Pinkie Pie Tells A Story

by FeverishPegasus

Something New

Little Pip shivered from the cold, breath coming out in frosty whites. “C-could you stoke the fire for a bit? I think it’s started to die down.”

“Sure!” she said, chipper as ever.

“And give me something new. I want to hear a new story.”

“What do you mean, new?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Like, you’ve covered wacky stuff, sad stuff, happy-disturbing stuff. I want to feel something different.”

She huffed, “I hate to say it buddy, but you’ve only got a certain range of emotions. Only so much I can do.”

He tapped his hoof in the air, “What about...I’m not sure how to describe it. Like, you have a mystery, and you’re sure you have all the facts, you just can’t quite piece it tog-”

“Intrigue?”

“Yeah! Whatever that means. But it sounds like what I mean.”

“Well,” Pinkie Pie said, “I can’t do that.”

“Why?” He frowned, eyes watering.

“You know what? Okay. Fine. Just don’t complain if you have no idea what’s going on.” She stoked the fire.

“Why would I feel like-”

---

The ponies on the planet Mantis hadn’t adapted well to their environment, and you could see from the lines on their faces, that it wasn’t doing much for their sanity.

Death rate at fifty percent every year? What can you do?

It certainly didn’t help that the atmosphere around them tried to kill them at every opportunity. And that every time they went to get a drink of water, it involved a fifteen step process that they had to get down perfectly, lest one mistake result in their immediate and untimely death.

An atmosphere made of anti-pony. Let that sink into your mind.

And I’m sure you’re probably wondering. How in the heck can an environment be anti-pony?

Fifty percent sulfer, twenty percent cyanide, and thirty percent arsenic is my answer to you.

To say that life on Mantis was complicated would be an understatement. Not to mention the fact that the only surviving alien race on that planet liked to eat anything and everything.

Well, except for lasers. Hence, why the ponies had survived for this long

The ponies that managed to keep their sanity survived, and they usually did that by putting the effort of their stress into long and complicated puzzles. Scavenger hunts mostly, and the occasional outing into the wild expanse of Mantis was certainly dangerous, but for the sake of everypony’s well-being, necessary.

And what a fun time they had! Looking for clues, losing more lives to the natives…

An epic quest for ponies in a particularly hopeless situation!

But how did I fit into all of this!

As the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, totally-going-to-die-in-the-first-few-hours-on-this-planet kind of pony. And there had certainly been a bunch of close calls for me.

I’d actually gotten pinned down by one of those Mantis creatures, serrated claw extended toward my neck, going for what it had learned as my vitals, ready to snap together!

But a grizzled veteran, known for taking down Manti regularly, knew what to do.

He drove a wooden stake deep into its right eye, hanging on as it whipped its head back at an unimaginable torque. The poor pony’s ankles cracked under the strain, but I could see from the fire in his eyes that his ankles were still functioning, only sprained, that nothing would stop him from killing this beast until he became incapacitated.

A quick swipe left! Claw extended, shooting for the pony’s midsection, but he was ready.

Putting immense pressure on his injured joints, he pushed himself off the stick, claw barely clipping him, shorn fur floating into the atmosphere as his body tumbled to the ground.

A swipe right!

But once again, the pony was ready. Jumping onto the bug’s thorax, digging his hooves into the soft joints separating the creature’s head and body. Ripping, tearing, desperately trying to find purchase. Out of plans and ingenuity. A last resort.

And he did it!

The bug fell and the pony rode it to the ground, doing everything in his power to hold the helmet keeping him alive in place. Not ready to die after such a powerful victory.

He closed his eyes, and his body language spoke of wild hope.

No cuts.

Was probably what he’d been thinking.

A single cut and the atmosphere would kill you.

Keep the helmet and no cuts.

All you had to do to stay alive.

But covered in the green juice of the alien, how could you tell? How would you know?

You just had to the hope that by the time you got back to base, you hadn’t dropped dead yet.

And what does that do to a pony? What did it do to the grizzled veteran? As he tried to yank his helmet off, the other ponies stopping him, tying his hooves down, trying to comfort him in stressed out calm voices.

He’d just wanted control.

The basic urge of every living thing in existence.

How the heck were they supposed to survive on this planet?

But they did, they did, and in the traces of the wildly flailing veteran’s hooves, I saw three figures emerge in the murky atmosphere.

505.

Even in his panicked moments, the stallion set me on the trail to one of his puzzles, as if there were two minds to him. Behind his uncontrollably overwhelmed emotional side, logical, calculating.

********************************

The second we walked into the airlock at Base Zero, we let the other ponies tend to the Veteran. We couldn’t bear to look at them all together, desperately trying to calm themselves down. It hurt too much.

So Mr. Mystery and I hung out together. What could 505 possibly mean?

Not enough clues is what it meant. Mr. Mystery and I needed a marriage counselor, if this was all he’d be willing to offer in the relationship. Perhaps if I had a way to access a large network of information, things would’ve worked out.

But for now, I got a divorce with Mr. Mystery. I was not concerned about the hour or the minute of our divorce, except that when put together, it formed a three digit number.

********************************

After that fallout, I trotted back to the ponies fussing over their friend.

It looked like he'd made it. Ragged cheers erupted from the attenders as the veteran stood up cautiously. Already coherent, he said, "Thanks, guys, really. Trust me, I'm all good. Just panicked for a bit back there. What's that make it, three unarmed kills now?"

A pony with a nasally voice corrected him, "You used a stick remember? It doesn't count because you used a stick!"

"Alright, alright. I'll keep it at two. But that means I can add it to my armed kills total right?"

"Actually...no."

The Veteran opened his mouth in frustration. "A stick is a weapon or it isn't. It's one or the other."

"No. A stick is neither. You should add that to your environmental kill tally."

"Just give it to him!" Somepony growled. "It's not like anypony cares."

Before the heckler could speak again, the group of ponies closed in on the Veteran. One massive bear hug, 100% survivors.

For once.

And with a great deal of hope sparked by my misfortune and the brave pony's boldness, we all went to bed.

********************************

Mr. Mystery whispered into my ear as I tried to go to sleep that night. "You know you want me."

"I don't!" I said, eyes wide and heart racing. "You're just leading me on all the time. This relationship isn't going to work if the only thing you're going to contribute are some unimportant numbers."

"Oooh, touchy. You tried to divide that 505 number into two pieces didn't you?"

"Well yeah, what did you expect me to do?"

"Not that. This relationship thing goes both ways you know."

"What is it then. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Use your brain, and that vast network of information."

I rolled over. And over. Again. And again.

"I'm going back to 505. It's the only number I can think of!"

No answer.

As the tendrils of sleep deadened my brain, I let that information roil in my brain. Maybe I'd have a solution tomorrow.

********************************

Breakfast was surprisingly nice on the Planet Mantis that morning. Bug meat galore! Not after a good battering, seasoning, and frying, though. Tasted surprisingly like pork noodles.

I squeezed in among the ponies surrounding the Veteran, voices hounding him for combat lessons. As if all of them weren't already highly trained ex-military officials.

It occurred to me that I was the only unprepared pony on this planet. I'd have to get off as soon as possible.

But not until I deepened my relationship with Mr. Mystery and asked that Veteran why it even occurred to him to wave his hooves in such a strange pattern.

After about ten thousand, 'Sir!'s, I was able to get his attention. "Sir!" I said.

"What?!" he yelled, a bit irritated after the first ten thousand times.

"I must know, sir, why you waved your hooves in the shape of a 505, sir!"

Wrinkles etched themselves into his brow. "Must've been a coincidence. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't believe you!"

"It doesn't change the fact that you're not getting any information now does it? What does it matter who seized Assyria? I don't care!"

My shoulders tightened up, and in an angry hazy daze I walked from the table. Plopped my food tray sanctimoniously onto another table. Still, something niggled at the back of my mind.

That had been an odd statement.

But whatever, he'd been rude to me. I wasn't about to dwell on his poorly chosen words. It didn't do to let ponies under your skin.

I picked at my food trying to get my appetite back, and eventually succeeded, but I could feel that his words had awakened Mr. Mystery. Analytical thoughts flitted through my brain and began talking to me.

"You heard what he said right?" the Mystery asked. "The Veteran said something important."

"What does it matter?" I said fiddling with the sides of my tray. "It's like he grew up sometime in the BC era, disregarding me like that."

"Well yeah, but you heard what he said about Assyria right? I'll even give you a hint."

"Dammit! It's always hints with you!" I slammed my hoof against the table.

The ponies on the other table paused to look at me talking to myself, but went back to haranguing the Veteran.

I whispered, "Well? Give it to me."

"The person you're looking for, he's got different spellings for his name. You want to make sure you've got the four letter version."

"You're serious? How the heck is that supposed to help me?"

Mr. Mystery only sighed, and faded from my thoughts.

Clack!

I whipped my head to the right to see another metal tray, and a pony looking at me with her hoof over her mouth. "Oops, sorry." She chuckled nervously.

"Ah!" I waved my hoof. "You're not one of those bug creatures."

"You'd never know," she said, eyes wide. "I've heard some of them can shapeshift..."

"Whatwhatwhat?!" My entire body shivered. "Don't even suggest something like that!"

She snickered. "Where do you think we get those rumors about the mimics?"

"You aren't being serious are you?"

"No, but I swear, I wouldn't put anything past those bugs."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "...why are you sitting next to me?"

"I saw you talking to yourself. Last thing I want is somepony killing me in my sleep."

"It's just...an invisible friend of mine."

"Ha! Now I'm really worried."

"It's not that! It's just that you ponies are weird." I motioned wildly in the air. "We're in a pretty sticky situation where we're at, and to de-stress, everypony just wants to do puzzles. What pony wants to do puzzles when they don't even know they'll survive to finish them!"

She looked really, really angry for a second, before slipping back into her polite routine. "That's not why we do it."

"Let me guess, the journey is better than the destination?"

"No. I mean, it's nice to work on a puzzle, yeah, but that's not why we like it."

"Then why?"

"It feels constructive," she said patiently. "Keeps our minds sharp."

"Wouldn't it be more constructive to work out?"

"We already do that, and you should too, instead of just lying around in bed all day." She looked away in thought. "Have you ever been in what felt like an impossible situation?"

"I think so. This one time I was working for Mrs. Cake and she needed me to make twenty different cakes for a party that was going to happen in a week, but because I like to procrastinate I waited until the last two hours to do it all, and whenever Ms. Cake asked me how things were going I'd just reply with great! But of course I was screwed! But with enough careful consideration, I was able to outsource some of the work to my helpful friends while also running around town gathering all the necessary ingredients."

"That's...a good example." She sighed. "The point is, we have problems like that a lot at Base Zero. Whether it's like your cake fiasco, or something to do with the impending bug attack, our ability to solve puzzles keeps us alive. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to get along on the resources we have."

I realized that I'd been disrespectful. "Sorry. You have a point."

"Glad to see you understand! I didn't mean to jab at you earlier either. It's looks like you've seen your fair share of shit."

"Yeah."

The conversation hit an awkward pause.

She broke the silence. "Sooooo, you do sports?"

"Not really, but I'm thinking about getting into rugby. This specific player inspired me, but I can't seem to remember his last name."

"Ok...I'm not really a rugby pony myself. To be honest, I don't even know what that is. Hoofball's where it's at."

I smirked. "Please. You should see the Glandipangular races on planet Zorular, Dimension +2.361. Not only do they risk their lives racing in that circuit, but all other versions of themselves in different dimensions. It's exciting, and illegal everywhere else in the universe."

"You're making that up."

"I'm not, actually."

She glared at me for a moment. "You're making it really hard to talk to you."

"I'm a hard pony to talk to."

"And you don't see anything wrong with that?"

"It's just..." I shrugged. "Don't you get bored living the same life over and over again, running the same strands of conversation? It might sound like I'm trying to stifle conversation, but that's only to keep myself talking more often. Otherwise, it's always the same thing from ponies around me. The same damn words that get cycled around and eaten up as if they mean anything! Like holy shit! Do something new for once! Isn't there something else to learn beyond the fact that your favorite hoofball player got a sprained fetlock for the fourth season in a row?!"

The mare sitting next to me winced. She had been hoping to push the conversation in that direction.

"I'll take you! I'll take you if you want! I know how to travel to those other dimensions! Where the hoofball players don't get fetlock sprains, but ankle sprains! Where the sport is actually called football! Hell, if we go far enough, you'd find societies that run solely on sports! Money gained solely through competition. Whether it's clicking buttons in different flexible patterns, or running around with the skin of another animal between your arms. Societies that don't need to concern themselves with the rough and tumble worries that come along with survival because they're clever enough to transcend that with ingenious inventions that do all of that stuff for them! I could..."

"Wait, you know how to get out of here!" Her eyes shone with hope. "How?! Tell me how!"

Everypony in the cafeteria crowded around the table, eager to hear something from the pony that had joined them under mysterious circumstances. What was this about an escape?!

I looked around at everypony, and something in my heart shifted. "So...I know you're all going to settle down and enjoy the rest of your lives to wherever you escape to, and I have every reason to let everypony go down in a blaze of glory on this god-forbidden planet so that you'd at least die like the interesting ponies you are, but..."

"But what?!" they all yelled in slightly different variants.

"I think I'm going to help."

Silence, until the mare sitting next to me spoke. "But...how exactly are you going to help?"

"For every inhabitable planet I've visited, each has a trait that remains consistent throughout my travel."

"What?" They all whispered, enraptured.

"That one plant always exists as a key method of travel." My cheeks went red for a second, ready the feel the humiliating jeers and guffaws. To see the smirking and disapproving faces that always looked at me whenever I revealed my secrets.

This time though, the ponies continued to look at me with serious faces.

"Well," the mare next to me said, "why don't you show us?"

A pony in the group ran to get some of the planet Manti reserve plant, the only native photosynthesizing organism on the planet, but useless until now due to the fact that it provided less energy than a pony's stomach needed to digest it.

As soon as they brought it back, I showed them, and found myself looking at things I didn't understand. The universe around me turned into a sliver of string, interwoven in an immaculate roughshod quilt.

Only thing I could do was hang onto something I remembered from my hooman years. The first name of that rugby player, born in the year 1990, had been my first name too.

Mr. Mystery invaded my mind again, but I think I understood now, how the breadcrumb trail worked...

---

"What happened to the Veteran?" Little Pip asked. "Why did you even call him 'the Veteran'? Who is 'the Veteran'?"

"Hollip Peño? I mean, yes, it's Hollip Peño."

"What?! The guy from your second story?!"

"Yeah haha. We go way back..."

Little Pip frowned. "I think you're lying to me."

"What? I don't know what you're talking about..."

"If you were in a story, you'd have ellipses at the end of your dialogue."

Pinkie Pie looked very stern all of a sudden. "Alright! Alright. You caught me."

"So, who is it really?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you. It would have been best for the timeline if you believed it was Hollip Peño." Her eyes bugged out in horror. "Oops."

"I'm guessing I wasn't supposed to hear that."

"Maybe..." She sighed. "But it doesn't matter too much. What matters is whether or not you understood my story."

Little Pip thought about it for a moment, his face contorting into a bunch of thinking expressions. "Yeah...I'll be honest. The story about Mantis was cool, but all those little clues you left behind went over my head. I have no idea who Mr. Mystery was supposed to be in the first place."

She facehooved. "It's...it's okay. To be honest, without a vast network of information, I shouldn't have expected you to get it in the first place."

While Pinkie said that, her mind continued to follow a different string of thoughts. She had to be careful about the things she said in her stories. Overdo it just a bit, and the Veteran wouldn't have been there to save her.

Author's Note:

So, what is Pinkie's first name?

If you figured it out, you can post it, but be sure to black it out.