"Pinkie, I feel like we should stand back," you murmur. You see see the pot shaking back and forth. Pinkie shrugs, but she still finds herself stepping backwards just as you do. A torrent of low moans smack against the sides of the pot from the inside. Your lip quivers. "Sweet Christmas, is there something alive in there? Was I just your Igor a second ago?"
"E-go-re?" Pinkie comments as she looks up at you. "Is that a kind of frosting on your planet?"
"Forget it!" You slide over beside a refrigerator at the far side of the kitchen, not sure how to react.. The pot shivers, little magical pulses beginning to pop up at the base. "Pinkie, are you really sure about that dose of ingredients?"
"Dosage? Of course, you whiner!" Pinkie says, hopping over and sitting down besides the pot. "We only used a 'centimeter cubic' of the 'milk of amorous clover' or whatever." She scratches her head. "I thought that clovers were planets, by the way. It's so crazy that they can be milked like cows. I wonder where the udders are on a clover?
In this physics defying world of cartoon ponies, you wouldn't put it past them to have plump pink udders on plants, maybe somewhere deep in the forests outside Canterlot. You put a hand over your eyes for a second, trying to get the thought out of your mind. "Pinkie, are you aware of how small a 'cubic centimeter' is? You haven't taken any pony-chemistry classes or anything, have you?"
She shakes her head, giggling. She leans up against the clattering pot, not caring in the slightest about the bursts of magical energy going on around it. You scratch your head for a second, not knowing whether to cower in imminent danger or just relax with another iced tea.
"You poured like a third of a giant test tube in there," you say. You strain to think back to community college a couple years ago. You got a 'D' in the last chemistry class, but an 'A' in the labs portion. You look at your thumb, knowing that one cc had to be less than that. Well, wait a moment, why do ponies use human-ish concepts of measurement, anyways? Damn this silly colorful world and it's lack of sense-making! "Pouring all that! Isn't that, like, five times more than 'one cc'?"
"Oh, that would be great if it was, Snoopy!" Pinkie calls out, jumping out in your direction. "Five times the magical popping! Five times the flavor!"
You take a little breath as you slide down and sit on the kitchen floor. "At least you know what you're doing."
"Of course, I do!" She rustles a hoof in your hair. You pretend to swat at her, really not liking these little-kid-ish moves of hers. "I mean, I mostly do." She shuffles her hooves around. "I sort of do. I kind of do." She whistles, opening up another refrigerator. "It's trial and--"
*Boom!*
"Error," Pinkie mouths.
Time seems to slow down as you hear a deafening explosion, almost like one of those god-awful Michael Bay movies, and a bright pink light envelops the big pot. You see Pinkie flipping her body around with her back propped against the open refrigerator door. You lean out towards her. Gigantic ripples of what look like pink electricity course through the air along the floor. You open your mouth to scream, but you can't even think.
You blink. You see the bottom half of the pot seeming to totally evaporate, metal shards melting into pink goop as the pink magical light turns pure white. What looks like a never ending flow of fluffy pink bubbles pours across the floor from the pot. You flash back to when they showed a Saturn-V rocket talking off in U.S. history class for a moment.
Your feel your hands grabbing onto Pinkie's back hooves. Her tail goes over your face, and she partly curls over back upon your body. You blink again. You hear the explosion fading off into some combination of a crashing and sputtering sound. You close your eyes, and everything goes black.
You spend goodness knows how long out. Finally, you try to move your hands. You feel your fingers wiggling, and you shift about your feet.
"Snoopy!"
You push yourself upwards.
"Pink!" you scream out. "Pink! Pink everywhere!"
You shoot your head back and you glare upwards. You see the metal pot rocketing out out into the stratosphere, a thick pink and magenta trail flowing out of the back. It punches through a set of clouds, and you take a gulp. You taste cherry pinkness. At this point, you realize that the kitchen no longer has a roof, and you shiver.
You move your head down, and you eyes feast on the scene before you. Pink goop drips from the countertops, the ovens, the refrigerators, the trays of untensils along the wall, and everywhere else. The pink stuff seems to have transmogrified inside everything as well. Pink spatula. Pink clock. Pink oven-mitts. Pink cabinets. Pink doors. You run your fingers against the wall, and the layer of pinkness seems as solid as stone. And then you see your hand.
"Aaaaah! Pink! So goddamn pink!" You shudder your hand in the air. Your fingers obey your commend, but every inch of your skin and body hair looks every little bit as pink as Pinkie Pie. You suck in breaths, feeling overwhelmed by that endless pink flavor in the very air around you. You throw yourself to the right and glare at your reflection in the sink. "Oh my God!"
You run your bright pink hands against your pink face and up to your pink hair. It has fluttered about and poofed up almost exactly like Pinkie Pie's mane. I'm her. I guess. This is either my greatest dream or my worst nightmare.
"Or both!" Pinkie burst out, appearing from out of nowhere behind you. You spin, feeling so overcome by emotion. Your eyes swell up as you see Pinkie looking just as happy as ever.
"Were you reading my thoughts again? You!" you holler, your hands running down your back over to your pants. You finger the empty air behind you. Thank goodness I didn't grow a tail.
"What's wrong with a tail?" Pinkie asks, grinning as she blushes. She slides her own tail against your left leg. You blink again and again, hardly able to take how her hooves and your legs have the exact same color and general apparence.
"Pinkie!" You hop up and down, looking less like a human and more like an angry kangaroo from some Looney Toons production.
"Oh, Snoopy, you adorable-dorkable-pinkie-pants!" Pinkie replies. "I don't really read your thoughts, I just read your super-deedly-dudely-dooperly-quietly talking that you do when you think, using my Pinkie sense!"
"Okay..." you sit atop the counter, a pink metal fork sticking into your bottom. You pick it off as you wince, and you lock eyes with Pinkie. She seems just endlessly amused by the whole thing. "Well, trial and error right?" You furiously point out at all directions. "Holy cheese and crackles, I feel pink underneath my skin!" You pinch your fingers against your cheek, and she simply giggles. "I feel like I'm bleeding sugary raspberry frosting!"
Pinkie props her body up against the counter besides you, shifting her mane around. "That would be great, Snoopy!" Pinkie responds. "You'd taste great if you put a lot of yourself into my new--" She makes a 'cracked' sort of expression, her eyes dilating. "Cupcakes!"
You feel yourself turning white-- or, at least as whitish-pink as you can. "Pinkie," you moan like a defeated animal, your fingers going over her front hooves.
Pinkie throws her head back and laughs, her bottom hooves clopping against the floor. "Oh, you should have seen the look on your face!" She laughs even harder as you just stare blankly back at her. "You shouldn't believe everything that you read on the Ponynet with those pPads you, Twi, and Rarity use so much!"
You blow a raspberry, putting your fingers against your cheeks.
"So, I guess code XJH-9911-03.008 didn't work out," she says, slanting her head to the side. "Oh, well. Back to the cutting board, I suppose."
"Pinkie," you moan, "how long am I going to be like this--" You point with one hand over at your other hand, fingers gripping her hoof. "Just like you?"
"No worries, you frowny-pink-complainer! Won't be long at all!" You let out a sigh of relief. "Give or take a month or two, maybe."
"A month or two!" You can barely breathe. You feel sweat pouring off your head. You stick your tongue out, and you lick your own pinkish-red sweat. It tastes like cherry soda.
Pinkie shrugs, and she breaks free of your grip. She jumps up atop the counter besides you, and she stands up straight on her back hooves. She points up into the sky with both front hooves. "Enough talking! It's time for getting back that rocket-pot-thing!" She leans over and wiggles, making a concentrated face as she almost bites her lip. Her eyes narrow.
"Uh, Pinkie, what are you doing?"
"What's wrong with my engines?" Pinkie scowls, her tail drooping. "I need to complain to Boeing about these... these mechanical monstrosities. They don't even accept commercial fuel around these parts, anyways."
You take a deep breath.
"Oh, no!" Pinkie scrapes her hooves along her sides and smacks her cutie marks with her hooves. "What happened to my engines? Somepony must of stolen them!" She flips about left and right, glancing out in all directions. "My big grey engines are probably being sold on PonyBay on some 'Buy It Now' auction as we speak, most likely by some no-goodnic-Hooftington-underworld type!"
"Pinkie!"
She gropes about her flanks. "Maybe there's somepony with a fedora hat and trenchcoat coupled with red eyes walking about, with my engines clutched inside his pockets! If watching television has taught me anything, it's that dark-haired ponies with red eyes wearing a trenchcoat and fedora are evil! And they're everywhere! If only we could call Scooby-Doo and the gang to help!"
"Pinkie!" You smack your hands against the counter besides her.
"Yes?" She asks in a surprisingly calm, measured tone, sounding almost like a receptionist.
"Since when have you been able to fly?"
"Since--" She starts to say, opening her mouth up wide and melodramatically waving a hoof in the air. She trails off, closing her mouth and having a cold chill flash over her face. "Oh, I can't fly." She takes a gulp. "I forgot."
"Can't Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy take care of, uh," you say, fumbling for the right words, "areal assaults of a confectionery nature?" You glare at the pot way up in the sky, flipping about in a weird loop-de-loop as you speak.
"They're all the way over in Canterlot with their coltfriends, remember?"
You start to sweat even more, thick reddish-pink trails going down your cheeks. What the hell are we going to do? We didn't just destroy the kitchen-- Mr.Cake will be so pissed-- we have to do something about that flying magical whatnot. What if it comes back down and levels Mayor Mare's place in City Hall? Or Twilight's library? Or worse! And I'm still a living mix between a male human Pinkie Pie and a walking, sweating cherry!
"Oooh, that's right!" Pinkie says, reaching over and slurping along the side of your face. She smiles. "Like cherry soda!"
You make a low, angry groan. You turn, and you see Lyra's body perched out from part of the ruined roof. You take a deep breath.
To Be Continued...