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Step 1: Get a slide whistle2,052 words
Step 2: Use the slide whistle2,463 words

Step 1: Get a slide whistle

It was one of those pleasant days; it was one of those days for Pinkie Pie, the kind of day where her alarm would ring early in the morning and think nothing of it as she slammed it and hopped down the stairs. Her morning shower would be pleasant, her breakfast with the cakes and the twins would be pleasant, her local greeting with everypony in town- or at least the ones who weren’t sleepy heads –would be pleasant, it all would lead up to a pleasant morning.

Today was a special day! Yes, it was one of those special days when anxiety melts away like a fresh slab of butter on freshly crisped toast. She had been waiting for this special day for a long time, a very long time. Her saddlebag that she wore strapped across her middle was filled with her well-earned bits and it jingled in tune with her melodic hums. Eyes fell on her in curiosity, as even the happiest pony in all of Ponyville wasn’t this, well, happy.

For the past week, Pinkie Pie had been hard at work after a life changing incident. How she had never seen or heard of one of these before, she hadn’t the slightest clue, but from the moment she saw one, she knew what had to happen. She had to have one. At first, she thought she had enough in savings. As it would turn out, Gummy’s recent trips to the veterinarian after his teething incidents put a bigger dent in her wallet than she realized.

It all was worth it to her. She was going to finally get one and put a plan into motion that she had been waiting to do for a long time. And think of all the other uses for it! Parties, surprise events, snooping, cooking, cleaning, hanging out with her friends, races, competitions, even opening a door! Oooh, she had to add that to her list. There was nothing this thing couldn’t handle, she thought.

At last, she reached the shop she was dead set on. It was a house with a flute painted over the door. It was one of the more recent shops that had been modified to fit into a house where the shop was downstairs and the living was upstairs, much like the Cake’s. The words read, “Frankies Frankly Fantastic Flutes!” The name struck the right chord with her, giving her a small but controlled chuckle as she pushed open the door. A bell hanging over the top dinged as she stepped inside and admired the shop.

It was simple in design. Glass cabinets with instruments lined the gray, carpeted walls and despite the house’s small size, it actually had quite a large selection of wind instruments. In the middle of the room hung a few other replicas of various designs and colors, seemingly hung at random. Her eyes were drawn to a sign that simply stated, “Step here and look forward.” On the floor was a crude red X. Throwing caution to the wind, she placed herself there and looked forward and immediately smiled.

“Oh! Neat! It’s a musical pony! And it’s playing a flute.”

A door in the back opened and a brass-coat stallion with a greyed yellow mane walked in, tipping his almost color matching fedora on his head at Pinkie Pie before hanging it on a sole hook on the wall. With a gentle smile, he greeted, “Ms. Pink! I see you have returned!”

“Good morning, Franky.” She hopped to the desk with the cash register while Franky walked to the one case he knew she wanted. “And how is little Lute today?”

He chuckled, fiddling with a key ring. “Her cold is gone and she’s back in school. I must say, her reception has been very warm thanks to you. She’s having a wonderful time at school. I do wish her mother could see her smiling again,” he finished with a soft sigh.

“Glad to hear,” she replied with a hint of reservation. She had always pondered what he meant by that, but it wasn’t the time or place and she shook the thought aside. “Is my delivery ready?” She watched him walk back across the store and to the desk. As if on cue, a wrapped package with a pink bow was placed there.

“Straight to the point, I like that. Now, I know you said you wanted the best I could find- and then make a better one – but I have to ask, Ms. Pie, why a slide whistle? Violins don’t cost this much, or even my best flute.”

“I saw you at the park with Lute the day you came into town and I thought, ‘If you were having that much fun at that age, imagine how much fun I could have with my energy!’ I told Twilight and she sounded a lot like you at first, but then I said it was mathmagically unpossible for me not to have as much fun or more!” Her eyes went wide as she remembered something and then shoved her entire head into her left saddlebag and popping back out with a scroll decorated with numbers and symbols the old stallion barely remembered from his high school days.

“See, FUN is equal to age times happiness to the power of imagination divided by bad experiences minus wisdom plus negative feelings.”

The stallion looked up for a brief moment and was surprised to see her hair was in a bun with a pen resting on her ear and reading glasses on her nose. He watched with impressed eyes as a pointing stick strapped to her hoof forcibly swatted each value.

“Age is measured by age while happiness is measured by a logarithmic algorithm of content and contempt. Happiness in this equation is assuming previous happiness, which shouldn’t matter when wanting to attain maximum fun, so landing this value as close to one as you possibly can is the best. The score of imagination has to be individually tested for and can land in between one and four. People with higher ages tend to have lower imagination scores due to this value.”

She huffed, and the continued. “Every bad experience generates what I call a series of ‘sores’. Each sore has a base value of point one, and the trauma of the experience, based on a scale of one to ten, is multiplied by the amount sores. The book of sores,” she hefted out a textbook with her face on it studying a band aid with a magnifying glass, titled “Sore enough?”, and opened it directly to the page she sought, “has a scale system. The lower the bruise, the lower the sores. Usually, it’s best to round down so some incidents equivocate to approximately zero sores. This eventually accumulates to your bad experience number. Now wisdom on the other hoof h-“

Franky coughed. “Ms. Pie, I think I understand what you mean.”

Her hair poofed out and she returned her educational belongings to her bags. “Personally, your fun score didn’t stand a chance. My I.M. was a five point three on a four point scale; the numbers were tipped in my favor.”

“Well with math like that, it’s hard to deny your decision.” He grinned and pulled on the bow string. The cloth fell off in neat triangles to reveal the final product. “Behold, the best slide whistle not yet known to all of Equestria.” His eyes got in close to the instrument, hovering over as he named each piece. “The reed was carved from a slim piece of bark from an ancient griffon tree by Iliad himself! The main chamber was cast in dragon’s breath and forged from three thousand year old dragon crystals. If you’ve ever heard of Crystal Clear, this instrument would put her legacy to shame. And last, but certainly not the least, is the slider itself. Fashioned from Changling fang, this slider morphs can conforms to the shape constantly, creating a smooth but powerful slide every time.” He nodded as Pinkie Pie oo’d and walked into the middle of the room. He pulled a small table behind him and placed a wine glass full of water on top of it. He grabbed the instrument with a careful hoof and raised it to his lips. “Observe.”

With the skill and precision of an expert flutist, he breathed into the instrument. A noise-less reverberation bounced through the room and focused on the glass. It wiggled in place and then without warning, it shattered into perfectly square pieces. But what surprised Pinkie the most was how the water continued to remain afloat in the air in an orb, seemingly ignoring gravity. It wasn’t until Frankly coughed that the suspended liquid dropped unceremoniously onto the table, sending a bit of glass over the edge.

“Whooooa. Can I try!?”

“Whoa is right and no, not until you pay. I admit, at first I was a bit worried about your record of credit-” he scratched behind his head, “-but when you showed me a forty page list of every debt you’ve repaid to the last bit.”

Pinkie made a “Psshaw” sound, waving a hoof at the very notion she wouldn’t repay anypony. “Nopony likes a Debby Debter.”

“I thought it was Debby Downer?”

Pinkie frowned for a moment. “I need to meet this Debby, she doesn’t sound like a happy pony.”

“No.” Franky blew a lone strand of hair out of his face. “No she does not.” He stood next to the register and began typing in the values. “Well, your grand total for this slide whistle is four thousand and twelve bits.”

As if it was nothing, Pinkie Pie plopped a purse of payment proudly and promptly to purchase her product. Wide-eyed, he scooted the bag to him and poured the bits inside of a bit counting machine hidden underneath the desk.

“Ms. Pie. This is four thousand and five hundred bits!”

“I never forget to tip!”

He shook his head. “No no, I can’t except such a genero-“ he stopped when his customer gave him a mute expression.

“Franky, be sure to get Lute something super nice on her birthday.” She leaned in closer, holding a hoof over her mouth even though nopony else was in the room. “I heard she’s been wanting a big filly lute to practice on.”

“That’s much too kind of you, Ms. Pie. I simply cann-“

“Can take it?”

“No, I w-“

“will accept it?”

“Please stop inter-“

“enterprising your generosity for your granddaughter?”

“Okay that last one doesn’t make any s-“

“cents that would help her?”

“You’ve made your p-“

“Purchase? No no, pickle! No, wait! Point!”

He nodded. “Here’s your slide whistle, Pinkie Pie. I do hope you get as much enjoyment out of it as you can, though I imagine with you that shouldn’t be too hard. Just remember, this isn’t a toy. If you abuse what that slide whistle can do, you j-“

Pinkie Pie blew into the reed with a hefty amount of force, filling the shop with a high tweet that made the old stallion cover his ears. Suddenly, there was a cracking noise, and Pinkie Pie stopped. She scanned the room of glass cases to see what she may have broken, but they all looked fine to her.

“What was that?” Pinkie asked Franky, who in turn rubbed his ears with his hooves in a circular motion.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was my ear drum, Ms. Pie.”

“Well, thank you for your time, Franky!”

He kept one hoof to his head and waved to the mare. “Goodbye, Ms. Pie. And please, don’t abuse the slide whistle. It has properties you don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be super extra careful!” She held her new whistle to her mouth and faced the door. With giddiness, she pulled it open slightly, just enough to fit her hoof in between. In one swift movement, pushing open the door and sliding the whistle…

Fwooooooooooooooeop!

She then stepped behind it and let he door close behind her.

Fweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeop.

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