//------------------------------// // Icing on the Cake // Story: To Serve Bronies // by Fuzzy Necromancer //------------------------------// Blossomforth sized up her cards. It was nice change of pace not to be playing Go Fish again, and Pinkie Pie had marked off a big “Quieter Zone” in the party, for board games, cards, and piles of pillows to rest on until the land stopped spinning so fast. She'd said something about “making room for less extroverted donkeys and shy pegasi”. She slapped down the six of cups on the five of pentacles and drew a card. “Your turn,” she said, after a sip from her appletini. Cloud Kicker frowned at the assembled minor arcana, along with The Tower and The Moon. She tried to take a peek at Flitter's hand before getting a gentle but firm wing to the face. “I guess I'll Petition this turn,” she said, picking up two cards and nodding to Flitter. She took a long drag on her small cider with a hay straw and salt-rimmed half-apple in it. She was a real lightweight, but you needed three ponies for a decent game, and Blossomforth needed a lot of time to build her energy and hold back the panic attacks before rejoining the party. Flitter gulped down some Zap-Apple cider, took a sip from her flank flask, and let out a phosphorescent belch. She looked over her cards, glanced at the Timber Wolf and Windigo wailing beneath the painted Moon, then shivered. “Does this party seem a little...tense to you?” She put her three of pentacles down beneath The Moon after a long hesitation and drew a card. Blossomforth looked around. A unicorn she didn't know was staring down Caramel across a friendly game of Thud that didn't seem to friendly. Clusters of ponies where whispering together, glaring, ignoring their hot food and cold drinks. She stared at the three of pentacles like she'd never seen it before. She could lead off that with a two of cups, but that would lead her open to an Ace-Arcana slam. She'd been holding back The Lovers since the game started. Major Arcanas were like the fine china, you never knew when the occasion was important enough to take them out. While she nibbled her cocktail garnish and weighed her options, an unequine voice hissed in her ear. “We hunger!” Blossomforth fluttered into the air with a whinny of panic and her companions reared up. A distorted, sub-equine grimace leered down at her while the wind whipped its insubstantial flesh. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you that badly!” said the voice, slightly less unearthly now. Blossomforth coughed and gathered up her cards. “Please don't do that!” she gasped. Her heart was hammering like an avalanche. The menacing costumed figure leaned down on it's stilts. “Let me help,” the thing said, managing to pick up a stray card with it's clumsy costumed limbs and pocketing the feathes of her sudden molting in the process. “Sorry. Sorry. Is everypony having a good time? Need any more drinks?” the figure said. It lowered down a tray with apple-slices covered by peanut butter and cheese. Cloud Kicker took a couple off the tray. “Thank you, um,” “Call me Reiko,” the stranger said. Maybe it wasn't a pony after all. Did pinkie hire dragon caterers or donkey party apprentices? Blossomforth took one of the treats. The cheese was a really sharp cheddar. “Thank you, Reiko. It's quite good.” The figure hovered, swaying back and forth on its stilts. “Um, I was...I thought...maybe...” Blossomforth stared at it. She could visualize the sweat collecting behind the mask. “CanIhaveyourautograph?” it gasped, and then recoiled as if expecting to be kicked in the face. “Um, I guess?” Blossomforth said, taking the proffered paper and quill. She didn't know why anyone would think her famous enough to want an autograph. The figure thanked her profusely and lurched away. Blossomforth finished her drink and thought, what the Tartarus. She slammed down The Lovers right next to The Moon. Something strange was definitely going on tonight. # “Ow!” Penny Whistle yelped. Something cold and slimey dribbled down his horn while his head throbbed from the impact. Upon crossing his eyes, he noticed the edge of a firemelon. He looked around. There were some slices of firemelon with swiss cheese and jerked tofu at the snack table, and diced chunks of firemelon in the more elaborate cocktails, but there was nowhere a whole firemelon could have fallen on him. “This better not be one of Pinkie’s pranks,” he muttered. He wasn’t fond of pranking at the best of times. He tried to shake it free from his horn, but just splashed some of the spicy juices into his eyes in the process. He bit back a scream. “Not funny!” he snarled. “Who did this?” The laughter of mares caught his attention. Maple Cookie was juggling fruits while her friend Boiled Okra snorted and guffawed. The squat green mare might have been amused by the little display, but she seemed to be looking at him more. She was always the first one to laugh at a mean joke, ever since that quip about him having to retake magic kindergarten. Concentrating his telekinetic energy, Penny Whistle plucked the fruit free. It would be really petty, he thought, to fling it back in Okra’s ugly little face, especially since he didn’t really know she was laughing at him. Somebody had to have thrown it though, right? He shook his head. No, he was going to be the bigger pony, like always, and take it all in stride. He made his way over to the table and filled a glass of vodka-elderberry punch. The wet squelch, followed by a series of bops on the back of his head in increasing strength, weakened his resolve. “I’m really sorry,” Maple Cookie said, visibly struggling not to laugh. “I just slipped on a patch of ice.” Penny Whistle lifted up the punch bowl, emptied it on Maple Cookie, who screamed, and then flung the spoon at Okra’s perpetually clogged nose. Maple Cookie gasped, and for just a moment, he felt a little ashamed. That moment passed. “Apology accepted.” “What the hay did she do to you?” Maple shrieked, pointing at her friend, with tears welling in her eyes. “She was laughing at me!” Penny Whistle said, his anger growing in proportion to the uncertainty of his justification. “I just had hot melon-juice in my eyes for buck’s sake!” “I was laughing because my friend is funny!” Okra shrieked. She flung the spoon back at him. It missed and struck Berryshine the unicorn on the head. “Oh, sorry!” Okra said. Berryshine charged up her magenta magic into a tray of artisanal pineapple-teriyaki hayburgers and declined the apology. The plate bounced off Okra’s head and smacked Maple Cookie between the eyes. Maple Cookie’s face went completely blank. Okra was still crying, but they were tears of rage. “You bone-eating mother-bucking bloodthirsty little carrot-heads!”