This weeks prompt is a wee bit specific. Today, we take a look at all those short stories that feature the Sugarcube Corner.

I have a lot of fun with the Corner, myself. It's where Pinkie seems to live, for some reason... at least, I think. It's a bakery, but also does parties, maybe? It's weird. I'll be honest, I never even checked all this on the wiki, I just kind of use it as a jack-of-all-trades building. It's even been a coffee shop in one of my stories. Maybe in another it could be a hotel?

Anyway, post short stories and stuff below! You guys know the rules by now, I should think. (I'll probs still get questions though. Feel free to ask if you want to)

Have fun!

4677221 This is less about the actual building, and more about what goes on inside. Here we go:

It was a regular day in Ponyville, or at least for the Cakes it was. The sun was out; pegasi were on strike about unfair cloud cover during sporting events, and a loud crashing sound could be heard from the downstairs kitchen. Mr Cake rolled over on the bed, taking care not to kick his wife as his legs flipped from the right to the left.

"Think we should check that?"
His wife murmured drowsily under the sheets, "No, no dearie, it'll just be old Pinkie whipping up something."

In reality, this was fairly close to the truth. It would be completely accurate if Mrs Cake had used an 's' in place of 'wh', but ponies soon forget those sorts of nuances in language. One may wonder at this point what Pinkie Pie could possibly be sipping for it to be making such a raucous clatter, but one forgets about whom we speak. Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie, simply brewing a mug of hot chocolate wasn't enough. First, she had to go and buy some scrap metal from the junkheap. Then, she needed Applejack and Rainbow Dash's help to weld the components together, and after all that, Twilight had to be consulted on the exact temperature required to make perfect hot chocolate.

The exact formula required to calculate the mug size to heat required ratio, Pinkie had forgotten, but she had continued building the device regardless. Now, it looked something like a giant bee, with each wing being huge bellows that fanned a massive furnace. At the antenna of the iron monster were two cup holders on either side, that automatically dove in and out of the flame, pulling away from each other and swinging in on a hinge. The whole thing was powered by a large steam engine, which made the most horrendous, uneven and metallic claps with each chug.

Pinkie had remembered to put earmuffs on Pound and Pumpkin, and she knew the rest of the Cake household were heavy sleepers, so she had no qualms about turning on the device so early. She had to know if it worked, whether or not the whole hot chocolate industry could be revolutionised with new hot chocolate factories, churning out gallons of the stuff every second. Equestria would never go thirsty again. She pulled a slightly chipped pink ceramic cup from within her mane, carefully poured just the right amount of milk, added the cocoa powder, and placed it gently on an antenna receptacle.

Instantly, it was whooshed along, inside and out of the machine like the clappers. Bang, bang, bang, bang. It darted back and forth like a wary wrestler, until all of a sudden, Pinkie snatched it from the machine. Was it the right temperature? Was it cold? Boiling? Was there enough cocoa powder? Did too much spill inside the contraption?

Pinkie Pie squirted a copious amount of whipped cream onto the top of her concoction, and then, full of apprehension and excitement, took a sip...

4677221 Another challenge, another experiment.

Pinkie Pie Saves Equestria

Edit: Approved and visible.

It started as one thing... Then changed.
As usual any feedback and advice is appreciated.

You know, I'm actually pretty tolerant.

My life has been a long series of messes, changes, confusions and challenges. Take now, for instance. My floor gets covered in flour every darn day, dozens of tiny, irritating ponies scuttle around leaving behind all kinds of detritus and blocking up my plumbing, they drop sticky pastries and smelly drinks on my carpets...

They trip on the stairs and then complain about it for hours, and the tall ones bump their heads and then have the gall to tell themselves that I'm inadequate. They should have been born shorter, the nitwits! Who even needs to be that tall?

And don't get me started on what the pink one did to the basement. How she even installed a toboggan is beyond me. I'm this close to collapsing, and then they'll be sorry.

I'll be dead, of course, but at least I'd have taken them out with me.

Anyway... that's today. You want to hear about yesterday?

Ponyville is an old place. Not ridiculously old or anything, but it's been around for a while. I was one of the first buildings to go up. Before I was some strange bakery/nursery, I was an office.

It wasn't much better. Oh, they shouted. They yelled and they tore up papers and there was more litter than you could imagine. They spilled coffee everywhere and oh, the things they did when they thought ponies weren't looking...

The world would be a lot nicer place if photocopiers couldn't handle the weight of a full grown pony. Why do you even need a half dozen pictures of your butt, anyway? Grow up. Get a mirror like everypony else.

Not to mention what they did to each other. I don't even know the mechanics of pony biology, but even I don't think they were doing everything right.

It was horrible. But let me tell you about the day before that.

I was some kind of mansion. Rich ponies lived in me. Like parasites. I didn't even mind, back then. I was a young structure, only just constructed. I had more walls inside me, so that the rich and powerful didn't have to suffer looking at the maids and the servants and the cooks. Not that they were much different. They farted and went to the bathroom just like everypony else. Everypony poops the same, that's what I've learned after all this time.

And the cooks... they had the foulest language. You wouldn't believe it.

And then there were the babies, and the midwives, and the noise, and then they knocked the wall down to make a larger dining room... That hurt, by the way.

No respect. Ponies don't have any respect for buildings. These days I'm putting up with monsters putting holes in me. Why, the library next door got burned down. The outrage.

I ought to unionise. I heard the clothes store is peeved as well. I...

...

I've been made into the new library.

The books are all heavy. My floor and walls are sagging.

The silence is deafening.

Why? Why won't they just turn me into a regular house like I always wanted to be?!

Looks like this one is done. Locking! Prepare for inbound prompt.