Pinkie's Off Day

by The Engineer Pony

Unbreakable

With a smile and a wave, Pinkie turned to exit the castle. After a long evening of running a party, it was finally time to head home and rest.

Ordinarily, going home to sleep wound have been the last thing on Pinkie Pie’s mind. Celebrating with her friends usually filled her with so much energy that she would stay up half the night bouncing off the walls (a tricky thing to do silently so as to not wake the Cake twins). But this evening, she just felt…weary. Like a balloon that had lost most of its air, but still retained just enough to keep its shape. If she had to continue to be Pinkie Pie for one more minute, she would fall apart.

So with a drooping neck and a slightly deflated mane, Pinkie descended the front steps of Twilight’s castle. Slowly, she began the trek back to Sugarcube Corner and her waiting bed.

Only to be stopped three steps later by the gentle but firm request of the Princess of Friendship.

“Pinkie Pie, wait a minute please.” Twilight glided down from the entryway and landed next to Pinkie. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

“Sure thing, Twilight,” Pinkie said cheerfully. “What do you want to talk about? Ooh! I know! You want to discuss why the only ancient magician whose spells ever seem to impact our lives is Starswirl the Beard! Is that it?”

“Well, not exactly, Pinkie,” Twilight matched Pinkie’s slow pace as they meandered toward the heart of Ponyville. “Actually, I just wanted to check to see if you’re doing alright.”

“Of course I’m doing fine! I’m always fine!” Pinkie punctuated her exuberant declaration with a miniature explosion of streamers and confetti. She gave Twilight a wide smile, but then quickly turned away to stare off into the distance.

Twilight said nothing. She craned her neck to stare at the rising moon as the two ponies walked in peaceful silence. After nearly a minute of contemplating the subdued majesty of the celestial orb, Twilight looked again at her oddly silent friend.

“Really?” she asked.

Pinkie tried to hold Twilight’s gaze. She tried to smile, to bounce into the air, to dismiss Twilight’s concerns with an easy laugh. But the muscles around her mouth simply would not cooperate. The smile that normally came so easily to her suddenly felt out of place on her lips; the boisterous expression that she usually wore felt as foreign as a dragon’s greedy snarl.

Eventually, Pinkie could bear it no longer. Her eyes dropped toward the ground, and her hoofsteps slowed. A sound that almost never came from her escaped into the still night air: a short, fatigued sigh.

“Actually, Twilight, I’m not alright. I don’t feel like myself today.”

Twilight tipped her head in curiosity, but otherwise said nothing. Pinkie paused for a second to gather her thoughts, and then continued.

“I don’t know what it is. I woke up this morning feeling a bit depressed. I couldn’t get excited about anything. Not about baking, not about parties, not about making other ponies smile. I was able to go through the motions, but I didn’t want to.”

“You seemed lively enough at the party this evening,” Twilight observed.

Pinkie snorted. It was a tired, lonely sound. “I pretended be myself. I knew the kind of things I would normally do, and I spent the party perfectly imitating my usual crazy Pinkie-ness. Well, almost perfectly.”

“The mix-up with your present for Spike.” It was not a question.

Pinkie gave a small nod. “I hadn’t been paying attention when I wrapped his gift. I was still trying to figure out what had gone wrong with cheering up Fluttershy, and I accidently mistook a party cannon for a set of cooking supplies. And when Spike opened the wrong gift, it threw me off. My Pinkie-ness slipped for a minute.”

“What happened with Fluttershy? I was able to get some of the details from her, but I wanted to hear about what happened from you.” Twilight’s voice was gentle, but the pointedness in her tone betrayed a trace of the keen analysis behind the simple question.

“I heard her crying in the forest, and I went to cheer her up. I tried everything: a surprise ambush, a cake, an impromptu song…but all it did was make her mad. Well, mad for Fluttershy, which is still a really frightening thing.”

A cool breeze fluttered by. It rustled through Pinkie’s mane, blowing a few loose strands into her eyes. As she brushed them away, Pinkie noted that the strands had straightened out. The usual chaotic curl of her mane had disappeared. Just as well. Everything else that defined her seemed to be gone as well.

Pinkie stopped walking completely. She turned to completely face Twilight, staring directly at her friend with an unwavering plea in her eyes. “What’s wrong with me?” Pinkie’s voice trembled. “I’m the element of laughter. My destiny is to make others smile. Why can’t I seem to do that? And why do I not even feel like I want to?”

Pinkie fell silent. After a few agonizing seconds, she looked away, staring off into the nothingness in front of her. She stood there, somewhere between crying and screaming. Pinkie waited for Twilight’s condemnation, her detailed explanation of why Pinkie was an inadequate friend and a horrible pony for abandoning that one true part of herself that made her who she was. Pinkie tensed in anticipation of Twilight’s thorough assessment of the precise chain of events that led to this point, all of the bad choices she had made that had caused her to stray from the correct path. And worst of all, Pinkie dreaded Twilight’s inevitable conclusion that she could no longer associate with such a disappointment of a mare.

Near silence. The only sound came from the gentle murmur of the wind. Neither pony spoke; neither pony moved. Pinkie dared not glance in Twilight’s direction. She doubted she could handle seeing the disappointment in Twilight’s gaze. Pinkie closed her eyes in solemn resignation.

Then Pinkie felt a wing lightly brush against her back. It was a gentle touch, neither a firm strike nor a crushing hug. Rather, it was a humble gesture that simply conveyed Twilight’s presence.

“Pinkie,” said Twilight, “nothing is wrong with you. You’re still the same great pony I’ve come to know and love over all the years since I first moved to Ponyville.”

“But…” Pinkie opened her eyes to the sight of Twilight’s gentle smile. “I don’t feel the same. I feel like a mess.”

“Nopony can be happy all the time,” Twilight replied. “Not even you,” she added quickly as Pinkie opened her mouth to interrupt. “Emotions come and go, and sometimes it’s just more appropriate to be sad. Look at Fluttershy. When one of her animal friends was injured, she naturally wanted to cry. It showed that she cared. Acting cheerful would have just been fake.”

“So…you’re saying that all I ever do is make ponies into hypocrites by trying to make them happy?” Pinkie’s voice quivered with worry.

“No!” Twilight response came abruptly, but it conveyed surprise more than anger. “Every day, I see you offer something far greater than a momentary laugh: you give ponies hope. You show them that the world is never as bad as they think, and there is always something to worth being glad about. Your joy is so infectious that other ponies can’t help but realize that they too can face life’s difficulties with a smile.”

“Except today. Today I don’t have any joy to contaminate other ponies with,” Pinkie said with a slight frown.

“We all need to be reminded at times about those things that are truest about us. I know that I routinely forget what it means to be a good friend, and I’m supposed to be Equestria’s leading expert on the subject. And sometimes, it’s when we struggle to remember these things that we come to truly understand them.”

“But what if I never stop feeling this way? What if I never go back to my bubbly, crazy, make-every-pony-in-town-smile self?”

“In that case,” said Twilight thoughtfully, “I suppose you continue on as you always have: you spread that joy of yours that runs deeper than what you feel. Not faking a cheerful attitude, but giving an optimistic confidence that goes beyond your current mood. And maybe you can reach out to other ponies that really some hope right now.”

“Like Fluttershy,” Pinkie said somberly.

Twilight nodded. “I think you’re the only pony who can cheer her up. You just need to try a different approach from this afternoon. As long as you’re sincere, I know you’ll do great.”

---

Pinkie Pie opened her eyes. A dull, grey light coming in from the windows illuminated the familiar sights of her bedroom. There were the same pink lollipops; there stood the same ice cream cone. Her perpetually impassive pet stared out the window at the same lifeless image of a town frozen in the pre-dawn glow. And once again, one of the balloons on her bed had sunk down to the floor during the night.

With a contented yawn, Pinkie climbed out of bed and set her hooves on the cold floor. She stood there for a moment, contemplating the leaking balloon floating in front of her. Then, after a second’s hesitation, Pinkie gripped the balloon and detached it from its string. Putting it up to her mouth, she re-inflated the shrinking party favor with helium, restoring it to the proper sizes and buoyancy. Then she retied the balloon to her bed, making the knot just a bit tighter than before to keep the air from leaking out.

Nodding in satisfaction at the completion of this task, Pinkie turned to greet her gloriously stoic pet alligator. Gummy responded to her sincere “Good morning!” by briefly licking her face. It was a simple, almost indifferent gesture, but Pinkie appreciated it all the same.

Before heading downstairs to begin the day, Pinkie took a few seconds to peer out the window and enjoy the peaceful sight of Ponyville laid out before her. There were no ponies out and about to break the stillness with their chatter and bustle, but Pinkie knew that would soon change. Soon, she would be the most exuberant pony out there, disseminating her energy throughout the entire town. Soon, pegasi would clear away the gloomy layer of clouds, and the sun would shine brightly across Ponyville. Soon, the town would light with all the colors and noises and smells of a typical, lively day.

Pinkie blinked slowly a couple of times. Then, with a slow sigh, she turned her back on the window and bounced toward the stairs.

It was time to bring life to an otherwise dreary morning.

---

Fluttershy tenderly placed a hoof on the sleeping head of Mr. Beaverteeth. The creature was resting uneasily, still racked by pain from the injuries he had sustained the previous day. As much as she hated to admit it, there was little else Fluttershy could do for the poor beaver. He would need time to heal, and all she could do was be there to help him through the pain.

“Um, Fluttershy?” asked a timid voice behind her.

Fluttershy turned around. Standing in the entrance to her cottage stood a familiar pink pony.

“Hello.” While her voice was as soft as always, Fluttershy felt some of her sorrow and disappointment trickle into her voice. “Are you here to throw another wild party?”

“Well, um, actually…” Pinkie Pie fidgeted uncertainly as she attempted to respond. In fact, Fluttershy noted that her friend was not bouncing off the walls like she usual did. Today, she seemed more…contained. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn’t have tried to force a party on you the way I did.”

Fluttershy gave a nearly inaudible gasp of astonishment. Then her face softened into a gentle smile. “It’s alright, Pinkie. I know you were just trying to help.”

“Well, for once my helping didn’t seem to go so well.” Pinkie swallowed before continuing. “And I wanted to make it up to you. You’d said you couldn’t find Mr. Beaverteeth’s family, so I went out in my Pinkie-copter this morning and let them know what had happened. They’ll be coming over in about two thousand seconds or so.”

“Thanks, Pinkie,” said Fluttershy gratefully, rather surprised by her friend’s behavior. “I know it means a lot to Mr. Beaverteeth. And, it means a lot to me, too.”

“In the meantime, I thought that maybe I could, well, help you keep Mr. Beaverteeth company.” Pinkie Pie slowly walked over to Fluttershy. “I Pinkie-promise I won’t go all happy-crazy like I normally do. I just figured, well—I figured it might cheer you up to have somepony sit with you.” Without another word, Pinkie calmly sat down next to Fluttershy.

“Thank you,” Fluttershy whispered. “I really could use a friend right now.” Fluttershy wrapped a wing around Pinkie and pulled her close. Pinkie responded by putting a hoof around Fluttershy’s shoulder.

The two ponies sat there quietly, gazing somberly at the sleeping Beaver in front of them. Pinkie Pie did not squirm; she did not bounce around; she did not even burst into song. But her presence meant more to Fluttershy in that moment than any jubilant celebration ever could.

Next to her, Pinkie Pie smiled.

Comments

[Shamrock95]

Awww, how sweet.

[HiddenMaster]

Ah, that was sweet.

Relatively short, but Pinkie was characterized exceedingly well here, and the issue explored-days where you just can't be your typical self-was done very well. And the end was sweet enough to make up for the heartache of the thought of a depressed Pinkie.

Well done.

HiddenMaster out