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Pinkie Calls5,293 words
Call 2#8,646 words

Call 2#

Some ponies viewed quilting as a fun hobby for rainy days. Others viewed it as an art form, a delicate and refined process that should take all the time necessary to achieve a perfect masterpiece.

Cloudy Quartz shared neither of these viewpoints. Quilting was a task and, more often than not, an unpleasant one that should be taken seriously and practically. Quilts were to keep you warm and covered as you slept for years, not to vainly draw every eye in the room and/or fall apart after a few uses. And while perfection should be the aim, it wasn’t the first requirement.

She had to remind herself of that as she pushed her glasses into place and sat staring disgruntled at the small squares of fabric that lay fanned out before her. They were mostly gray (because you couldn’t go wrong with gray), but there were also a few browns, some black, and a little scrap of maroon red that looked as if some pony had cut something out and thrown it back in the quilting square basket in a careless gesture. She noted it, but decided to dispose of it later—for now, she needed to concentrate.

Her eyes darted from square to another. Somewhere in there was the perfect—or at least satisfactory—pattern for the quilt she would soon start, but where was the question. With a sigh, she leaned back on her haunches and closed her eyes. That didn’t help a thing—now squares of serval bright colors danced behind her eyelids tauntingly. Disgusted, she opened them again and stared up at the wooden ceiling.

How long had she been sitting there, arranging and rearranging squares until her head ached? Mrs. Pie had no idea, but it was long enough. She hated this idle work—it was so time-consuming and got so little done in the long run. Rock farming was a work you could do and feel good about at the end of the day, while finding the pattern for a quilt could leave you upset and unsatisfied deep into the late hours of the night. It required a certain knack that Cloud had never possessed, and a certain love she couldn’t develop. Some ponies might call the two combined “artistic inspiration”.

The quilts she made for the beds at home didn’t need anything special to be appreciated, so she didn’t really mind making those. And making a personal quilt for each of her four daughters had been simple, as she knew each of them so well and they weren’t too picky. But making a quilt for any pony outside of her immediate family…that was a completely different kettle of sedimentary. Cloud wasn’t oblivious to the fact most ponies seemed to want something more than a warm covering when they asked for a quilt. That, and the fact that gray didn’t seem to appeal to most ponies the way it appealed to her, for some reason. It needed a certain something—color, pattern, shape, weight? She really wasn’t sure what it was, just that she never found it intentionally. Which was why she generally avoided making her skill a public knowledge.

But there were times, like this one, where it couldn’t be helped.

Lifting her head, she glanced distractedly over her right shoulder. Her eyes fell upon a certain envelope on the floor next to her tail, still crisp and white as it had been when it had arrived three days ago. It looked harmless enough, and yet as Cloud reached for it she couldn’t help feeling an unhealthy dose of dread. She knew exactly what it said—nonetheless, she opened it and reread the following:

Dear Cloudy Quartz,

How are you doing these days? I’m going to guess life has pretty much left you in the same position as when I saw you last—working day in and day out at your mining business with your family. I bet you’re still enjoying it too. Well, to each their own. Please let your husband and daughters know I hope they’re doing well!
It’s been a long time since I last wrote, so I thought I’d catch you up on a few things and share some exciting news. Me and Butterscotch are doing well—but busy, always busy! The way things are going, we probably won’t be able to handle it by ourselves anymore! Butterscotch is already looking for someone to help in the kitchen—hopefully things will calm down a bit after that.
The little ones are all healthy and happy—messy and loud too. I don’t know how you managed to raise your daughters to be so polite and well-behaved—it’s all I can do to get my foals out the door for school every morning without throwing the shop into total chaos! You once told me the largest boulder isn’t moved in one day—I assume you’d say that about raising children as well, wouldn’t you? Well, despite the extra chaos I’m sure it will bring, I’m happy to announce I’m expecting our sixth around winter! That will shake things up a lot, especially if the kids get the ice-skating lessons they’ve been begging for, ha ha!
Actually, Banana Nut was doing her new “begging dance” yesterday in the store and I was so embarrassed, but—

Cloud Quartz humphed and skipped ahead a few pages. The important bit was near the end, right before—ah, there.

—not my finest moment, I’ll admit, but somehow we managed to get him home. He has a bit of a cold, but in a few days time he’ll be right back on his hooves again, believe me. He’s such a little ball of energy! While he’s been wrapped up, he’s already made several mountains and valleys for his dolls, or action figures, and started a new civilization!
Actually, seeing Almond cuddled up in the quilt you gave me got me thinking—wouldn’t it be nice to have something similar for the new baby? The house doesn’t really insulate well, and during the winter we often migrate downstairs to the shop, where at least the ovens give off some good heat. I don’t want my new little Muffin to freeze…
This is where a favor comes in, Cloudy dear. I know how much you love quilting—would you please consider putting together a baby quilt? I’ve been looking, but I can’t seem to find anything quite equal to yours. I’d try making something myself, but the shop has got the whole family so busy I don’t think I’ll find the time. I know you’re kept busy on the farm, so if you don’t think you’ll be able to squeeze such a big project in, I understand completely—I can settle for less. Just keep it in mind, if you would.
Anyway, I just heard a crash from the shop—duty calls. I’ll look forward to hearing from you!

Yours Truly,
Spice Muffin

Cloud felt the skin between her eyebrows begin to pucker. There were a few things that bothered her about this letter (since when had Spice Muffin started calling her ‘Cloudy dear’ like one of the ladies in town?) but the biggest was that request. She had no idea how Spice had foolishly mistaken her commitment to her duty as enjoyment. Then again, it had been years since she had first come to the farm, (sent by her parents, Cloud’s second-cousins on her father’s side, to help her learn the particulars of rock farming), and during that time Cloud had been making Marble’s quilt. Time tended to warp the memory. Not to mention last time they’d seen each other face to face was at Spice’s wedding, where the older mare had given the new couple a quilt on behalf of the whole family. So, in short, it might be considered a well founded assumption on young Spice’s part, if not a correct one.

Mrs. Pie read through the neat hoofwriting again, trying to find a hint, a clue, an idea of some sort to help inspire her. All in vain—the letter didn’t offer her anymore than it had during her first read. A quilt, similar to the one she’d made for their wedding but smaller—well, how similar? Did Spice expect a miniature replica? Or did she want something completely different? The letter mentioned it should be something warm for the winter, but didn’t mention if Spice expected it to be used all year round. How was she supposed to know how thick to make it?

These were all questions that had bothered her on her first read through too. She had quickly realized this would be a project of trial and error, and more error. So, as not to put things off until the last second, she had explained to her hard-working family that she needed an afternoon to work on the project. A wise decision, it turned out. She was having a difficult time just figuring out the right pattern for this foal she hadn’t even met—this foal no pony had met...

The whole thing was absurd.

She sighed again, slipping the letter back into its envelope and putting it down. In a last hopeless attempt to visualize her end product, she picked up one of the nearest cloth squares and brought it close to her face, studying the threads intently as if they held the key to the whole puzzle.

Nothing—nothing but gray thread. As expected, really—it wasn’t as if the words outlining the perfect pattern had been woven in there, now was it? But…as far as grays went, it was on the bluer side. She could probably sneak it into the final design without counting it as one of the gray squares she intended to limit…

Wait—what was that?

She raised her head, ears twitching. Everything was silent now, but she could have sworn she heard something unusual. Unfortunately, her mind had been too focused on the task in front of her to really be certain what it was or how long her brain had taken to register it from the time it had sounded. She had no choice but to wait, listening carefully to hear if it sounded again...

There—it was coming from back of the house. Faint, but unmistakable.

Ring…

Cloud shook her head in an attempt to ward off her frustration. Why, of all times, was that stupid thing ringing now?

She stood up quickly, telling herself she might as well try and answer since she wasn't making any progress on the quilt. Stepping with care, she tried to maneuver briskly through the squares. Despite her best efforts, she ended up getting some stuck to the bottom of her hooves anyway, making her trip into her kitchen a bit more...awkward than usual. She didn’t have time to reach down and grab the stupid things, so she was very grateful no pony was there to see her final stumble through the door.

Ring Ring Ring

Just before she reached the side table where the phone rang, Cloud stumbled. With less grace than a hippo, she managed to catch herself just in time and pick up the phone. She straightened with a grunt of exasperation and brought the receiver to her ear.

“Hello, Pie’s Rock Farm.”

“Are you interested in becoming a rewards member at your local drug store?” An overly bright and obviously recorded stallion’s voice prattled across the adjoining line. “Well, we’ve got just the—”

Cloud removed the receiver from her ear and placed it back on the hook. She shook her head and reached down to pick up the one quilting square that had managed to stay stuck to the back of her hoof throughout all her blunderings.

Honestly, what was she expecting? It wasn't as if it could have been anypony else. And yet...she couldn't quite drop the idea it might be Pinkie.

Despite the fact her dilly-dancing daughter had sounded ready and willing to start calling every hour of the day when their last conversation was brought to a screeching halt, it had been more than two weeks since Cloudy Quartz had heard a word. It didn't really make her worried—just a little anxious. You couldn't help feeling anxious about a daughter like Pinkie, because no matter how well you knew her you could almost never guess what she’d be doing next. At least a quick note saying the new fledgling was still airborne in the turbulent sky would be very much appreciated.

She finally picked off the clingy fabric and lifted it up to get a proper look. To her surprise, it was none other than the little maroon scrap she had already condemned to the wastebasket. Tssking, she turned and trotted off to find one—might as well put the sorry thing in its proper place before she returned to her own.

Ring Ring Ring

Cloud paused, glancing back toward the phone. She hesitated only a second before turning back to pick up the receiver again.

“Hello, Pie’s—”

“Mommy?”

Cloud blinked. Speak of the draconequus...what were the odds of that? Could it really be…“Pinkie?”

“Mommy?”

Every tense muscle in Cloud’s body relaxed. She knew that voice, even when it was screaming in her ear. “Pinkie.”

“Mommy?”

“Dear—”

“Mommy!”

“Yes, dear, I—”

“Mommy!!!”

Cloud fidgeted. “Pinkie—“

“MOMMY!”

“Pinkie!” Cloud finally broke. She hadn’t meant to snap, but unfortunately that’s how it came out. She drew a quick deep breath before her daughter had the chance to recover from the outburst.. “Yes, yes I am present—I thank thee for strengthening the fact.”

“Oh Mommy!” Pinkie bubbled, sounding even happier than usual. “I’m so glad you’re there!!”

A mare couldn’t claim to possess any degree of natural mothering tenderness if that didn’t at least give her a little pleasure. Cloud felt her heart warm inside her chest.

“I mean, you’re not usually there,” Pinkie continued. “Usually you’re working.”

“Well, in a technical sense I was working. However—”

“But then suddenly my back-right-hoof started tappin’ like crazy and I was like 'Wow, what does that mean!?!!?!!?’ so I thought about it and realized it must mean 'Momma’s Home Early!! Call Home!!!!’ And I was right!”

It took a minute for Cloud to catch up. “Thou art referring to the 'Pinkie Sense’, I presume?”

“Yeppers! I love how you put the 'the’ at the beginning! Makes it sound nice and official!” Pinkie said with a giggle.

“It doth add an appealing touch, I suppose,” Cloud agreed, secretly amused at the idea of Pinkie’s quirky sixth sense fitting any of the definitions of the word ‘official’.

“Why ya home so early? Oh!—let me guess, let me guess!! Did you run out of extra picks and went to grab some more? Did you catch a cold? Was there a huge marshmallow explosion and you all had to stop because everything’s too sticky? Did—?”

“No.“ Cloud asserted before things got out of hand. Honestly, where did that filly get these ideas? The only time there had been any explosion of any kind on the Farm, it had been because of Pinkie’s explosive personality. The odds of exploding marshmallows had dwindled to non-existent with her out of the house. “Tis simple to explain. I am here due to the fact there is a responsibility I must attend to, one I feel would not be wise to procrastinate.”

“Ohhhhhhhh! That mostly makes sense! Except why would you pro-tas-ti-not it? Don’t you need a power hose to do that?”

“Pro-cras-tin-ate. It meaneth to put something off for another time.”

“Oh!” Pinkie’s voice had enough perk to wake a whale—she was probably cocking her head. “What didn’t you want to put off?”

“Quilting,” Cloud grimaced inwardly at the reminder of the task she would soon return to. But because she didn’t want her bad attitude on the subject to effect Pinkie’s mood, she tried to deliver the next sentence a bit more cheerfully. “For Spice Muffin’s new foal this approaching winter.”

“What?!! Somepony’sgonnagetababyfortheirquilt!?” Pinkie was so excited Cloud could barely understand a word she was saying, let alone make sense of it. The pink party planner let out a high-pitched skweeing noise. “How fun! Can I host the baby shower?! Did they pick out some names yet?! I think Giggle and Cutie are perfect Muffin names! Will you tell them I said so, huh, huh?!! Dotheyknowifit’saboyoragirlohgollythisisexcitingwillthequiltbelikemine?!”

Cloud’s head was spinning. “Pinkemena, I can not keep—wait, what was that?”

“Will it be like mine? The baby quilt?”

“Oh. More or less,” Cloud answered, trying to remember what the pattern for Pinkie’s quilt had been like. For some reason she was drawing a blank. She must have been working harder than she thought.

“YEAH!!!! My quilt is the best one!” Pinkie stated triumphantly.

That would be a matter of opinion, Cloud thought. She had always thought the quilt she had made for Maud was a masterpiece and a matter of personal pride. The grays she had chosen all looked the same to an untrained eye, but upon closer inspection one could see subtle variations. She had based it after Maud’s favorite geological structure on the farm: a dried creekbed full of choice sedimentary. Pinkie’s—she couldn’t remember what it looked like exactly, but she knew she hadn’t been nearly as satisfied. The grays didn’t suit her almost-youngest daughter in the way they suited all her other daughters, that was for sure, though she hadn’t figure out quite why until the day she received her cutiemark...

She shook herself slightly and shifted her focus back where it was needed. “And how art thou—?”

“NO!!!”

Cloud shied away from the phone as quick as she could.

“No no no no!” Pinkie’s exclamations were muted just enough not to be deafening at the distance, but they were still crystal clear. Cloud waited until the volume had died to a suitable level before putting the receiver back up to her ear.

“Pinkemena Diane,” she scolded. “What doth thou mean?”

“No mom questions!” Pinkie said stubbornly. “Later! I called because I have questions I need your help with today! And if I answer all of yours first like last time, they’ll get away again!”

Pinkie lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I want to be one step ahead of them this time!”

Cloud was a bit confused at first—then she remembered. Pinkie had asked for her help answering important questions and she had faithfully promised to do so because the pink pony was worried about them 'freeloading’. Whatever that meant exactly, didn’t matter. Pinkie was on her own for the first time, and any extra advice was bound to be of help.

“Very well, Pinkie, very well,” Cloud agreed soothingly. “I suppose I can exercise mine own patience, for the time being.”

“Awww Mom, you're the best!”

Cloud heard a wet smack, then blowing. She didn't know for sure, but it seemed likely Pinkie was trying to blow her a kiss through the wires.

The gray mare sat down and got herself comfortable—this might take a while. “Proceed—what is the question that most troubles thee at this moment?”

“Oh boy,” Pinkie sounded breathless from excitement. “We’re really doing this! Here we go! First!—do you tip the cashier?”

So Pinkie was shopping. Cloud thought about this one. “No, I have never heard of such a custom.”

“Next! How do you tell if your watermelon is just perfect?”

Oh dear—an area she had little experience in. Cloud frowned in concentration.

“Well, I have heard many different opinions, most common being knocking on the shell and listening for liquid, but as I myself have not—”

“Got it! Why are there sometimes two prices on the price tags for food?”

Cloud nodded—she should have seen this one coming. “The one which is the smaller will most often tell the amount due per pound, as to help determine if thou art receiving thine money's worth for the produce.”

“Wow, that’s smart! Who thought of that one?”

Cloud shrugged with a sigh. “I cannot say. Dear, may I suggest avoiding distraction for now? Focus on the questions thou hast called to ask.”

“Oooooh, right! Sorry about that! Okay, there was one more big one, and after that I think I’ll be okay if you ask me some.”

Cloud nodded to herself. Typical—she’d been prepared for at least a dozen more, so they hadn’t come—Pinkie logic. “Continue then.”

“Are nets or mouse traps better for catching a bargain?”

Cloud waited a moment, but there was no further explanation.

“Pardon me—what was that?”

“I said, do you catch a bargain with a net or a mouse trap?”

“Yes, yes that is what I thought thou didst say” Cloud lifted her hoof to rub her temple, only to discover it was still clutching the maroon quilting piece.

“Or do you get nets for the big ones and—wait, why do you sound like you do when I’m about to get a lecture? Isn’t catching bargains something you do?” Pinkie said, sounding utterly baffled. “That’s what you’re always saying—we go to the market early in the morning so we can catch the bargains! I guess we never caught any when I went with you, though, because I don’t remember a net or anything...”

“Pinkie,” Cloud placed the scrap on the side table and once again raised her hoof to her forehead, this time unhindered. “While I am positive I must have said something to that effect, what I meant was not what thou art assuming. ‘Catching a bargain’ implies finding lower prices than usual—spending less for a product than thou customarily would. No nets, no mousetraps, not even a snare—just luck and good common sense.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

Pinkie fell silent. Then—”Yeah, actually that makes more sense. So I guess I won’t be needing this fishing rod—it was gonna be my first choice, but I didn’t know if it’d work for bargains. Oh well. I’ll just stash it here in case of an emergency.”

Cloud pushed her glasses up a bit on her snout, shaking her head slightly. Pinkie had developed a habit of stashing things in random places just in case of ‘emergencies’. When or why this had started was unfortunately a mystery to her. She had found out about it one apparently normal day in the fields when little Marble had started crying without warning. She had gone to comfort her, only to find Pinkie was one step ahead of her. The pink filly reached behind the nearest rock and pulled out a box of slightly dusty tissues. Needless to say, everypony was a little surprised (except for Maud, that is, whom Pinkie confided almost everything to in advance if possible and had probably known about it for months). Cloud had mixed feelings about the whole thing—on one hoof, it was excellent that their teaching of preparedness had shown some signs of taking effect. On the other—well, what kind of emergency would honestly call for something like a rubber ball, or a pirate eyepatch? Maybe one day she’d learn to be a bit more sensible about her emergency items, but Cloud doubted it.

“Alright!” Pinkie sounded like she was beaming. “Goshy, I feel better already!”

“Any other questions?” Cloud asked, just to make sure.

“Should I be writing all this down?”

Cloud thought about that one. “Thinkst thou art liable to forget?”

“Nope!”

Cloudy Quartz had her doubts about that one. Still, she supposed that wasn’t her call to make—Pinkie logic, don’t assume.. “Then no, just remembering it wilt be sufficient.”

“Okie-dokie-lokie! Thanks! Those are really going to help!”

“Thou art quite welcome. I am glad I could help thee with thy shopping trip.”

Pinkie GASPED.

Not just gasped—GASPED. It was so loud Cloud winced. She was honestly concerned for her hearing during these calls.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT WAS TODAY?!” Pinkie hyper-demanded (A term any pony who knew her should know, as she did it a lot). “YOU REALLY DO KNOW EVERYTHING!!!”

“Thou were't questioning about prices on food and tipping cashiers,” Cloud began, quickly shifting ears so she could rub her blasted personal receiver. “What else couldst thou be referring to?”

“Snorkeling?”

Pinkie’s response was spoken with such innocent sincerity her mother didn’t dare question it. “...I see. A lucky guess then, I suppose.”

“I’d say! I’m actually in the store now!”

“Oh? Dost thou wish to hang up to continue with thy shopping?”

“No! I can do both!” Pinkie assured. “Just a second—I need to move the phone so you can come out with me.”

Cloud had no idea what she meant by ‘come out’, but the mention of the phone had her a little worried. Pinkie’s last call had ended because she had been using a phone she shouldn’t have and gotten in trouble for it—her mother had hoped she would be wise enough to avoid this in the future, but knew she couldn’t count on it. “Thou wouldn’t happen to be using another phone without permission again, would thou?”

“Nope! This phone is in the store and I’ve seen all kinds of ponies that are definitely not working here taking turns using it all day, so it’ll be fine.”

Cloud frowned, a bit suspicious. She knew Pinkie wouldn’t lie to her, but she might be being overly optimistic about the whole thing. “Not a soul will...miss it?”

“They shouldn’t—every pony takes turns, and it’s my turn now! We’ll know my turn is over when it’s over!!”

Cloud let out a soft sigh. She felt so helpless on this side of the connection, but it couldn’t be helped. She’d have to trust her dilly dally daughter with this one.

Hopefully that wouldn’t turn out to be a mistake.

“I know that sigh!”

Cloud blinked, emerging from her own thoughts. “Sigh?”

Pinkie giggled. “Don’t worry Momma! It’s just like Granny-Nanny Pie always said: ‘Every mistake you make is a lesson, not a loss!’ Right Mom? Didn’t she always say that? So if I get in trouble, I’ll just learn a thing or two from it! I did last time; no more taking phones on desks unless I get permission first!”

Cloud restlessly moved her hoof on the table. She had often wondered since that unfortunate incident how it had all ended...now seemed as good a time as any to find out the worst.

“Tell me Pinkie, wert thou...in much trouble afterward?”

“Hmmm?” Cloud could hear the squeaking sound of metal. She wondered what it could be until she remembered places outside of Rockville tended to put out large metal baskets on wheels that were called ‘carts’. Pinkie must be continuing with her shopping trip, as she said she would. “Oh! Not really—once I explained I was calling my one and only mom and I didn’t have a phone at home to do it, they were pretty understanding about it. They said I probably shouldn’t use their phones from now on though, because most of them need to have their line open for business stuff. But that’s okay—they told me about the public phones I could use and I gave them an Apology/Thank-You cake, so I have a lot of friends in the office now! I’ll tell you all their names and birthdays, if you—”

“Perhaps not at this second,” Cloud interrupted. She knew she’d have to find another topic to completely dodge the bullet of names and dates that Pinkie was sure to spew. Her hoof had found the fabric scrap, and she absently began fiddling with it as she quickly thought the matter over.

It wasn’t too hard, once she remembered exactly who she was talking to.

“I seem to recall thee mentioning a party during our last call…”

And—

“Oh yeah!!!” The bait was taken immediately, without so much as a hiccup. “I should have realized you’d want to hear about that!!! It was great! Everypony came! Or everypony I knew, which was only like twenty ponies but now it’s more because I got to know some new ponies at the party! I didn’t know them then but they showed up anyway! Oh, Rarity was there! You remember Rarity? She helped me with my banner! She came up with the idea of shortening I-Moved-In-A-Week-Ago-So-Let’s-Party-Now! To IMIAWASLPN! so I could fit in on the cupcakes! We put the whole thing on the sign, though, and added the glitter and made--oh, that reminds me!! I need to get streamers!”

There was an unpleasant screeching noise—Pinkie must be making a sharp turn. “Rarity said she didn’t need a Thank-you cake, though. When I asked why, she told me she lives by herself and a whole cake would be too much, even a smmmmaaaallllll one, so I just gave her a piece, which I really think she enjoyed—ohhhhh, there we go, streamers!”

Pinkie’s spiel ended abruptly. Soft thuds and clangs began sounding through the phone to Cloud, making a perfect beat to Pinkie’s thoughtful musings.

“Red, orange, yellow, sunshine yellow, salmon, hot-pink, white, purple, lime—”

Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank...

Her mother just listened, wondering how in the world her daughter could keep track of what she was doing with all those colors to worry about. She could barely keep up with the browns and blacks in her quilting basket.

As the list went on and on, however, something began to trouble her.

“Pinkie—”

“Baby-blue—Wow! These streamers are gluten-free! I better get these too! You never know when a gluten-free goat may show up and start chewing, little knowing the danger!” Clank. Clank.

“Pinkie—hast thou ever heard of a goat having any kind of eating disorder?” Cloud allowed herself to sidetrack, frowning.

“Well, not yet…” Pinkie admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen!”

Cloud rolled her eyes and continued. “Pinkie, I cannot help but feel thou art being...excessive with thy streamers.”

“Why’s that? Ooooooooh! Polka Dots! Into the cart ya go!” Clank.

Cloud shifted. “Well, I cannot fathom how twenty different kinds of streamers could possibly be a worthy investment at this time…”

“Forty kinds! And that’s because you're not a party pony,” Pinkie explained cheerfully. “You're a Mommy! And a rock farmer! And a quilt-maker right now! And you do so great at all those things you don't need to be a party planning master—that's my job!”

Pinkie giggled. There was one last clank and then the whining metal squeaking began again—she was moving on. Cloud couldn’t help being relieved. Pinkie’s compliments were heartwarming, but Cloud couldn’t take comfort in her assurance just yet. She knew for a fact that her daughter’s budgeting skills were untrained, to say the least.

“I thank thee for such high praise,” Mother Pie politely acknowledged. She couldn’t keep herself from adding, “Though I am not sure about the last title’s greatness. However, the point I wanted to—”

“Why?”

Cloud paused. “Why what, Pinkemena?”

“Why do you doubt you're a great quilter?” Pinkie sounded curious. “You're the best quilter I know!”

High praise indeed, considering how many ponies Pinkie ‘knew’. Mrs. Pie couldn’t help doubting it—Pinkie had always been biased. “Tis most kind of thee to say so. To answer that question...why, I suppose I have been a bit befuddled as to the planning and patterning of the one I happen to be working with, that is all.”

“Oh, that's rough,” Pinkie agreed sympathetically. “Sometimes parties are hard to plan just right too. You want to get it just right, because parties should be something a pony should remember forever as a time when they had fun with their friends! And so you need to decide what theme and activities and snacks will do that right, which can be a lot harder than it sounds sometimes, believe me! I guess it’s similar to the baby quilt you’re gonna make—you want to make it something that the baby can enjoy forever, and cuddle with when it’s lonely! That's what I do when I miss home—get the quilt Mommy made for me! Just seeing the heart on the front makes me feel happy inside! So don’t worry! I’m sure you’ll be able to make a quilt Baby Muffin will feel the same way about!”

Cloud was so touched by Pinkie's confidence in her, she forgot her lecture—yet, something in that fast paced sentence was confusing her. It took a minute for her to catch what it was.

“Thou pretendeth there is a heart on the quilt I made?”

“No silly! There is a heart on there!”

Cloud blinked and blinked again. “...No, there is not.”

“Yeah, there is!” Pinkie insisted.

Cloud felt her brow furrow. She knew some ponies made quilts that contained much more than the customary squares, and the truly dedicated ones of these even made whole pictures. But she had always found the typical all-square pattern was quite enough for her—she never would have added something like that to one of her quilts.

“No, there is not.”

“Don’t you remember? You put that on there for me that night after—”

Pinkie stopped. Cloud waited, but she didn't continue immediately..

“After…?” She prompted.

Pinkie suddenly let out an irritated huff. “Why aren’t the sprinkles with the confetti? It makes no sense! They're like, basically the same thing!”

Pinkie had evidently dropped the matter of the pretend heart on her quilt, so Cloud followed suit. “Art they?”

“Oh well,” Clank Clank. “I’ll just get some of this while I’m here! Now, where would the sprinkles be? I really should be drawing a map of this place, ya know. Oh! I bet they’re over by the cupcakes! I know where that is!! It’s a few aisles, but don’t worry Mom—I thought of a super easy way to travel here!”

There was a loud Clunk. “Okay, hold on!”

Despite herself, Cloud griped the edge of the side table. “Why must I…?”

“Blast off!!!”

Suddenly all Cloud could hear was the screeching of wheels, the rush of wind, and Pinkie’s happy squeals.

“Woooooooooooo!! I’ve always wanted to do this!!”

Cloud gripped the table edge tighter. “What, exactly?”

“Oh, we’re coming to the end of the aisle! Sharp turn!”

The sound of shrieking wheels. And then a crash.

Mother Pie winced.

“Whew, we made it! Wasn’t that fun? I think shopping carts are my favorite rollercoaster now! Scraped the strawberry stand a bit, but not bad for my first try, right!? And look! The sprinkles!”

Cloud breathed in and out, trying to calm her fast beating heart. She tried to tell herself she shouldn't feel this way, since she hadn't really been riding in the cart with Pinkie, but that did little to slow her heart rate. Sitting up straighter and pushing her glasses up a bit seemed to do the job better. She noticed her hoof had unintentionally griped the red fabric scrap into a ball during the trip, a reflex. Was it just her empathic nature or one of Pinkie's many quirks that was causing her to behave like this? Either way, if she had ever had the urge to try something like that herself, it was cured now ( she hadn’t, but there you go).

“Pink, yellow, red,” Pinkie had apparently began throwing more food in her cart, once again to the rhythm of the clunks. “Blue, birthday colors, Hearth’s Warming Colors—”

Hearing Pinkie list off sprinkles once again got Cloud worried. “Pinkie, may I have a word?”

“Sure!” Pinkie chattered. “Which one would you like? Heh, I knew these alphabet sprinkles would come in handy—”

“What is left for thee to buy this day?”

“Well, that’s more than one, but I’ll try to get that for you. Just let me open—”

“Dear, I do not need it spelled out in sugar. I needeth it answered.”

“Oh—just about everything!”

“Hath thou a list?” Cloud said despairingly.

“Yep, it’s here!”

Cloud let out a slow breath. “Very good—read out, if thou pleaseth.”

“Okay! Watermelon, sprinkles, tissue paper, lettuce, sugar, dog food—wait, why do I have dog food on here?! I don’t remember writing that... ”

“It sounds as if thy shopping trip is for far more than party supplies alone. Thou couldst not possibly have the funds! Hast thou consulted thy budget on this trip at all?”

“My…? Oh.”

Pinkie’s voice was very guilty, confirming what her mother had already guessed—she most definitely hadn’t. Cloud brought a hoof to cover her face. There were some things best left unsaid.

“Thaaaaaaaaat…” Pinkie began. “Actually, I think I brought it with me somewhere. Stay on the line! I’ll be back.”

Cloudy Quartz heard Pinkie set down the phone and then the rustling that must mean she was searching her cart, but she didn’t lift her face from her hoof just yet. Why, oh why hadn’t Pinkie let them go over more budgeting with her before she actually left home? Letting her cram it all in the last few days had not been a good idea. She and Igneous had tried to sit her down and talk all about this several times before she left, but Pinkie had somehow found any and every way imaginable to bring up something more important at that immediate moment. Finally, they had been forced to resort to drastic measures and turn the matter over to somepony else. That is, when Limestone had burst through the door and stalked straight to Pinkie—”You’re learning how to budget, now.”—they had simply exchanged a glance and left the room. Cloud wasn’t sure what their oldest daughter had done, but it had worked. Pinkie learned to write and use a suitable budget the day before she left. Still, Cloud couldn’t help but think it would have been a little more long lasting if Pinkie had actually let them teach her in a manner less rushed or...forced.

“Oh rats,” Pinkie humphed. “Looks like you were right—I was a bit excessive with the streamers.”

Cloud slowly nodded, even though she knew her daughter couldn’t see it.

“I just got excited!” Pinkie said, sounding unhappy. “When I saw all that stuff, I forgot I even had a budget!”

Cloud felt her frustration gently wane to sympathy. She raised her head from her hoof with a heartfelt sigh.

“An easy mistake to make,” she soothed. “Especially when one is young, like thee.”

“Well, it’s not just that,” Pinkie admitted. “Sometimes I move some budgeted money from one category to the other, just so I can get a little extra something.”

“Which category doth thee find most easy to take from?”

“Savings.”

Cloud nodded. “That can be a folly. If I may, I find it easiest to keep mine own funds in check by remembering a future purchase. For example, I and thy father put some money aside for a train ticket to get thee home for Hearth’s Warming when planning our own budget—”

“Awwwwww!” Pinkie’s voice instantly sounded happy again. “That’s so sweet of you!!!”

“But,” Cloud continued. “I may be in need of more fabric for my quilting before long, and may find much choice cloth while I am shopping that I find pleasing. What if I bought it all without looking at the budget I had established and thus completely exhausted all the money we saved to bring thee back home?”

“You wouldn't either!” Pinkie gasped.

Cloud shook her head. “‘Tis a scenario, Pinkie dear. Of course I would not.”

“Whew!!!”

“I would keep in mind the fact I want thee to come home for the holiday, and thus restrain myself. That is why ‘tis important to remember what thou may want now may not be as important as what thou may want or need in the future. And if thou catches thyself being tempted...well, remember why thou art coming home this year, so to speak. Is that understood?”

“Wow...I never thought of doing that!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Maybe that’ll help me too! I can remember I want to have a biiiiiigggg tea-party birthday bash for Rarity when her birthday comes when I’m tempted to buy a dinner I can skip!!”

“Well, perhaps not so extreme…”

“Oh yeah! Go Pinkie! You’ve got this! Oh yeah!”

Cloud sighed. At least Pinkie had understood the basic principle of the matter.

“Go—Oh! But if you want to use an ittie-bit of the money you're saving to bring me home to put a heart on the baby’s quilt, I don't mind!!” The party mare said sweetly.

Cloud frowned. Not this again. “T’was not my intention, Pinkamena. I suppose the new foal must imagine a heart on, as thou hast.”

“I don't imagine it!” Pinkie insisted. “The heart is really there! I was trying to tell you earlier, it was right after OH-MY-CHOCOLATE-SPRINKLES-IS-THAT-WHAT-I-KNOW-IT-IS??!!!!”

Cloudy Quartz had to quickly jerk the phone away to avoid going deaf as the unexpected shriek blasted through the receiver. She heard a sudden zoom! and clunk! and then…

Nothing.

Cloud waited. Finally she cleared her throat. “Pinkie?”

No answer.

She waited a little longer. “Pinkie, dear?”

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!!

The cluck of a receiver being picked up. “Mom MOM!! They have fish tanks here!! Real ones! Real fish, and real tanks!! I mean, not like boom! boom! tanks, but the other kind! You know what I mean! It’s so great, you need to come and see!”

“That is very thoughtful of thee, but—“

“Oh! Silly me—you can’t move! Here, I’ll take you!!”

Pinkie began to run—her mother knew this because a noise filled the speaker was rather like the wind a Wonderbolt would hear traveling at top speed (Cloud had never particularly cared to know what exactly that would sound like before, but here she was anyway, and she knew exactly).

It ended, with a loud clink--perhaps that of a phone being pressed against the glass of a fish tank.

“Lookie Mommy! Look at all of them!!!!!!”

Cloud sighed and shook her head. She spoke loudly so Pinkie could hear her. “Pinkie, I cannot.”

“Huh? What do ya mean, they’re right here!!!!!…Oh. That’s right. Sorry.”

Pinkie’s voice sounded sad—then it perked up again.

“But hey! I’ll just tell you!!! There are goldfish and orange fish and silver fish and blue fish and greenish blue fish and magenta fish and flippy-floppy-oh-so-sparkly fish! I’d have to take the rest of the afternoon to name them all!! There’s that many!”

“Very nice, dear.”

“OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Pinkie’s voice rose higher and higher until it became a squeal. “Mom!!! There’s a special fish in here! A Pinkie fish!”

Cloud blinked. Was she talking about a fish that was pink, or just one that was overly social? “What doth thou meant?”

“It’s my fish, Momma!” Pinkie giggled. “Just a sec—I’m gonna go say hi!”

Cloud froze—somehow she knew exactly what was going to happen.

“Pinkemena, don’t—!”

Splash!

It was too late. No one could doubt that there was an exclamation point on the end of that splash—she’d probably gone in head first.

Cloud Quartz let out a groan, wishing she was there to pull her daughter out and give her a good scolding. Being trapped on this side of the phone was a rather helpless experience. She prayed Pinkie had at least thought of leaving the phone outside so it didn’t short-circuit.

Sploosh!

“Hi Mom! I went and talked to Pinkie fish! I told her I’d take her home with me, but I’d have to buy her to do that, and I couldn't because I am saving for my friend’s birthday tea-party! Aren't you proud of me, huh, huh!?”

“For throwing thyself into a fish tank or applying thy new budgeting technique?” Cloud asked skeptically.

Pinkie laughed. “Momma, you're funny! That must be where Muad gets it from! ‘For throwing thyself into a’—ah ha, ah ha!!!!”

Pinkie continued to laugh. Cloud personally couldn’t find the humor in the situation at all, but she also couldn’t bring herself to scold Pinkie as she’d been planning. The whole conversation was beginning wear on her and she found she no longer had the energy.

“Anyway, what was I saying?” Pinkie asked once she had finished, and let out a hiccup.

“When, dear?” Cloud inquired exhaustedly. Her eyes were beginning to droop.

“Before I saw the Pinkie fish! I’m sure I was going to say something…oh yeah! The heart on my quilt! It was the night after—”

Pinkie paused, but only for a second this time. When she spoke, she spoke in unusually soft and quiet tone.

“...The night...right after Granny Pie went to heaven.”

Cloud’s eyes flew open.

“I was scared and sad,” Pinkie went on. “So I went to cuddle in my quilt, but that didn't help. The colors just reminded me that my Granny-Nanny was gone. And that made me even sadder—I couldn't even laugh, which was the worst because she’d always say to laugh when I was scared, and it had always helped before, so it should have helped then, but it didn't because I couldn't…”

Pinkie went silent again. Cloud shockingly found she was hanging onto every word, wondering what would come next. And yet, in a way it all sounded familiar. Her mind was grasping at strands of half-forgotten thoughts and feelings, buried under the other demands of life.

“But theeeeeen,” Pinkie’s voice had grown bright and cheerful again, like the sun breaking through a thin layer of fog. “You came in and cheered me up! You told me Granny would still love me, even though she was too far away to see her anymore. And then you cut out a heart and sewed it on there, just fip fip. And that made me even happier, and I slept with it all night! The end!”

Pinkie let out a satisfied sigh. “That’s the story! Honestly, you don't remember that?”

“It—I—” Mrs. Pie whispered. Wait a moment…

Slowly, she opened her hoof, revealing a crumpled maroon scrap. Wordlessly, she slowly took a corner with each hoof and pulled it straight.

Just like she had noticed before, something had been cut out. But now, she finally recognized the arch, dive and point that made half of a very familiar shape.

Suddenly, it all came flooding back to her, almost as if a switch had been flipped on in the back of her head. Pinkie and her “Granny-Nanny” had been very close, so naturally she had been the one who had taken it the hardest when the old mare had peacefully gone the way of the earth. That evening they found Pinkie hunched in a ball at the back of their woodshed. For several minutes, all her mother could get out of her was “She’s all gray now, all gray…” Cloudy Quartz had been heartbroken to see her like that—her hair gone straight and limp, her attempts to laugh choking in her throat. It had taken a lot of coaxing and even more warm hugs to finally calm her down enough to lead her back to the house and to bed early. Cloud had stayed with her for hours, soothing her by telling her how much her grandma had loved her and still did; that she was sure Granny wouldn't want Pinkie to be sad about it. She remembered whispering how she was sure Granny was laughing somewhere and, yes, was being invited to more parties that she could ever participate in at home, where she had always had trouble with her back. Her love would always be with them, no matter where they were.

That’s when Cloud had gotten the idea. She had left the room to fetch the supplies she needed and returned to set to work. The mystery of it all had been good for her little filly—”What’s that, Mommy? What are you doing to my quilt?”—but when it she had finished and revealed the finished product, it worked miracles. Pinkies face had brightened and her hair pushed up into its usual curly mess. She had even done a few good bounces before realizing she was exhausted and instantly falling asleep, a peaceful smile on her still tear-stained face and the newly added heart close to her own.

It was amazing. Just one little piece of fabric had been able to bring it all back. The bittersweet memory of one of the moments she had truly felt a major strengthening in her love for one of her children filled her. Tenderly, she pressed on the crumpled places to help smooth them down again, her eyes moist.

She realized Pinkie was still speaking and quickly turned her focus back to her daughter.

“—so that’s why I don't think I’ll take it on picnics! And I just got to say, a good decision! I mean, getting all those crumbs off would be waaaaaaaaaay—”

“Pinkie,” Cloud said gently, her voice slightly choked. She coughed a bit to clear her throat a bit before speaking again. “I think—I remember now. Thou were't in the right—a heart was added to thy quilt after I had finished it for thee.”

“Of course it was!’ Pinkie chirped. “I’m glad you finally remembered!”

Cloud felt a real and true smile spread over her face. “As am I. As am I…”

“It took ya long enough! I mean—huh? What's that? Just a second, Momma.”

Cloud’s smile melted. Oh dear. She heard the sound of whispering, followed by Pinkie's “What!!!! You're right! Tell everypony I said sorry, okay?”

Pinkie picked up the phone, “Soooooo...I may need to hang up now because the cord is starting to get in ponies way—Ooooh, I think that one just tripped on it—”

“What?!” Cloud interjected in disbelief.

“I know! I wanted to keep talking too! But the store pony said so, so I need to put this buddy back in its box…” Pinkie let out a disappointed sigh.

“Wait, Pinkie,” Cloud shook head in confusion. “What box art thou referring to?

“The box you put the money in to pay for your turn, silly.”

It hit like a bolt of lightning—why the phone was public, what Pinkie had meant by taking turns—

“How hast thou been dragging a pay phone across the entire store!?”

“Oh, I just stretched the cord! Kind of like a rubber—”

Click click click.

Cloud tapped the phone in frustration, but all she received was a mechanical mare’s voice saying: “If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again…”

Cloud sighed loudly, and put the phone back on it's hook. Either the cord had finally snapped under the pressure of being pulled across and around several aisles, or their paid time had reached its limit. Knowing Pinkie, it was...well actually, knowing Pinkie it could be either one and a few others besides. The best thing she could think of doing at this point was to hope for the best and return to quilting. After such a long and stressful talk with her daughter, it might actually be a welcome break.

The gray mare took a moment to recenter her sanity before standing up and heading back toward the front room. She stopped for a moment when she got to the doorway. The squares were all still spread across the floor like an ocean of patchy color, but somehow the idea of finding a pattern didn't seem as hopeless as it had before. She picked her way across to her place in the center and sat down again.

She was ready to continue working—and yet, she didn't immediately start searching the squares in front of her again. Very slowly, she unfolded the red fabric in her hooves. How different it looked! Something about knowing it had once helped dry her own daughter's tears at a crucial point made what had once been deemed worthless more precious than any of its fellows. Strange how simple things could come to mean so much, just because they happened to carry memory with them. Through this simple piece joy, comfort, love, warmth, and childhood had come together…

A light dawned in her mind. Cloudy Quartz glanced down at the squares again. That brown there could represent warmth. The blue-gray she had found could be joy. And that darker gray might be good for...

Mrs. Pie moved the squares toward her and began arranging them, soon submerged in her work.

Author's Note:

Thanks all for reading!
Special thanks to DragonGeek for helping me make Cloud's Olde English more accurate and helping me fix the formatting. (You're great!)
This story was actually written as a birthday gift for my own BBBFF. It's with his permission I'm publishing it. (I love you bro!) I hope you all enjoy it as much as he did! :)

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