Coinky-Dink World

by Split Scimitar

Put on a Smile

“Hello?” I answer rudely woken up, having landed only a few hours ago from dropping Rosalina back off in Hawaii.

“Hi! Pinkie Pie here! Care to meet me in Miami?”

“Opa Locka or Lauderdale work for you?”

“Don’t you own a house on Star Island?”

‘’Two actually, and I rent them out. I also control most of the real estate on Dilido.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”

“What?”

“You’re the Lord of the Dildo?!”

“If you want to put it that way. Aunque, por eso lógico, si tuviera una tienda de sexo, pero no es así.”

“¡¿Hablas español?!”

“No, pero ¿cómo lo dicen?, ‘enough to be peligroso.’”

“You’ll always be the Lord of the Dildo to me!”

“Is that what you’ll call me?”

“Now that you mention it…”

“God damn it.”

“You. Are. A. LAUGH RIOT, MAX!!!”

“What can I say? I make jokes when I’m nervous. And I’m always telling jokes.“

“Aww. Don’t be scared of me. I don’t bite.”

“Sorry to say, you’re one of those types I need to mentally prepare for.”

“Well, could you do that while coming down here?”

“Do you have transportation needs?”

“Yeah! I need a quick hop home and back.”

“You transporting big stuff?”

“I’m bringing a car, and some other big things.”

“Okay, so would you want to relax in passenger seats or sit in the cockpit with me?”

“What good would I be sitting in the passenger cabin? I’d get SUPER bored.”

“But you wouldn’t be able to stretch your legs if you don’t have a passenger cabin.”

“The flight to and back is only 2 hours. I doubt I’d want to stretch for that. Besides, I’d rather have someone to talk to anyway.”

“I won’t argue.”

“Can you come ASAP? I’m kind of lonely over here.”

“The minimum charter request period is 4 hours plus compensation for time zones and flight time. Can you hold for the next 7 hours?”

“I’ll try.” She says with some disappointment.

“Sorry. Can’t break the speed of sound.”

She sighs and says, “7 hours it shall be.”

“I promise I’ll try and get as much energy for you as possible.”

“Hooray!”

“I look forward to seeing you.”

“Aww!!! Me too! Bye Max! See you tomorrow!”

“Bye.”

KVCV HELDE V12 HEC J6 DRK J231 NABOB J74 CNX J15 IAH J86 LEV Q100 SRQ.FORTL7 KUBIC WUDIP KOPF

---

“Douglas 306FE, turn right at C, Where are you parking?”

“Atlantic, 6FE.”

“N306FE, C N E to Atlantic.”

“C N E to Atlantic, 306FE.”

Ushered in to park, I soon head in, pay the fees and order a couple hundred gallons of fuel. I then back out the car and make sure she’s secure before I head for the streets. Because it’s Miami, there’s no better car to rock than an American Classic. And there’s no better American Classic than the 1st Generation (C1) Corvette. Even though this car has a 4-speed manual, the car has the license plate ‘2SP AUTO’. (It was next to impossible to find one with a working 2-speed when I bought it). Since I don’t have Bluetooth, I call Pinkie the old-fashioned way, via EarPods.

“Hello, Lord of the Dildo.”

“¡Jajaja, qué funny!”

“¿Dónde estás?”

“I just left the airport. Your place or mine?”

“Um… mine.”

“Be there in 15 minutes.”

“I’m waiting for ya!”

“Cya!”

In 13 minutes, 57 seconds, I park in her driveway. When I reach up to knock on the door, I feel two taps on my shoulder timed perfectly with my knocking.

I turn around to the sight of Pinkie smiling wide and exclaiming, “Hi!”

“Hi Pinkie.” I respond flatly, pretending to act unfazed.

“Oh, how great it is to see you!” She says hugging me tight as Applejack.

“Yeah.” I wheeze out in her death grip. “It’s nice to see you too.” I finish as she lets me go.

“So, now that I’ve got you here, what do you want to do while you’re here?”

“Did you charter me just so we could hang out?”

She only grins ear to ear, the sound of a squeaky toy in the back of my mind as she squees.

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Well, I wanted to make sure you were available because I do need to pick up some things from home before my next big party this weekend.”

“Rockford, right?”

“Yep!”

“Anytime after tomorrow’s good. Or we can go today. It’s up to you.”

“Meh, we’ll go later.”

“I’ve heard you’re the best party thrower in party central.” I say as she opens her front door.

“My reputation precedes me.”

“Yay. I have an excuse to pick up smoking again with an imminent divorce on the way.”

“Aw.” She deflates slightly. “That’s precisely why I called you here. After Dashie told me about your little get together with the Blue Angels, and your wife returning to Hawaii, I didn’t want you to be alone.” She says patting her couch.

“I would’ve been just as fine alone.” I respond dryly. “I’m very antisocial.”

“You’re not antisocial, you’re just lonely.”

“Lonely? I’ve been married to Rosalina for all these years.”

“But soon you’re gonna be single and lonely and sad again!”

“No I won’t.”

“You’ve found somebody else?!”

“No!” I shout before sighing. “After 3 failed marriages, I think I’m ready to call it. The married life was never meant for me.”

“Your past marriages don’t define you.”

“Whether they do or not, I’ve been nothing but a terrible husband in all of my marriages. Even so, somehow Rosalina doesn’t want to lose me.”

“Then why are you getting a divorce?”

“Why does everybody ask that question?”

“If you two will always have each other, then why would you get a divorce?”

“Because sometimes, Pinkie, one needs the other, but not the other way around. In our case, I needed her, but she didn’t need me.”

Even more confused than before, Pinkie asks, “what do you mean?”

“Um, she was meant for me, but I wasn’t meant for her.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. You fell in love with her, but she never was in love with you. Or maybe she loves you, but isn’t in love with you.”

“Couldn’t‘ve said it better myself.”

“Aww…” She deflates again as her worries confirm.

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. But I’m not here to hang out with you so I can whine on about my personal life. I’m here because you wanted me to.”

“Well, it’s just you and me. You familiar with DJ Vinyl Scratch?”

“She publish on YouTube?”

“Not sure. She‘s big on SoundCloud. She’s got some serious talent.”

“I’m sure.”

“And a friend of mine is a friend of yours.”

“As long as I’m cool enough.”

“Please, she’s nice. She’ll like you.”

“I’m a band geek. My musical tastes are the antithesis of her work.”

“She’d probably like you, quiet and reserved as you are.”

“I’ll look forward to it if she’s in town.”

“Yeah! She’s the emcee at most of my parties!”

“Yay.”

A few hours later, after Pinkie changes and I wash my face, we hop in and I fire the thing up. Before I put the car in gear, I ask where we should go, and immediately, she suggests lunch, even though it’s already almost 15:00.

“You’re still on Pacific, and I’m actually kind of hungry anyway.”

“I left home at 7:00. I haven’t eaten much if anything, but I don’t really need to adjust.”

“You haven’t eaten anything at all today?”

“Not much outside of some peanut butter right before I took off.”

“Well, are you feeling anything in particular?”

“Not really, but there’s this really good Colombian place in Lauderdale.”

“Ooh. I prefer Cuban, but all the Latin American places are great.”

“We are in South Florida after all.”

“Which place?”

“Las Orquideas.”

“Oh! I’ve heard of them!”

“Yeah? If memory serves me right, they’re owned by a family friend of my brother’s. I was very glad to have tried it. If you’re craving fried yuca, black beans, or anything like, let’s go.” I say putting the car into first gear.

The Gallant Old Engine getting a stretch, we roll in and park right in front, but a furniture truck is taking up most of the parking lot, taking on a load from one of the stores next door. An okay parking job for a lot with tiny spaces, we head in and get a table, Pinkie’s Spanish much dwarfing mine, some of the wait staff do throw some español my way, which I refute back.

Quickly, we order, the food arriving as we start talking about our lives.

“So, you grew up in Rockford.” I begin. “What’s your story?”

“I’m a farmer. Well, rock farmer. We harvest geodes.”

“Nice. That life clearly not cut out for you then, pardon the pun.”

“Hahaha! Yeah, pretty much. What about you? You seem like a family rebel.”

“Everything but the kitchen. I love my family to death, but there were some major events that kind of soured my lineage. I was disowned for not going into the medical field, or as they liked to put it, “a profession with a guaranteed high salary, but...” I pause to catch my breath and fight back tears.

“Max, you don’t have to bring it up if it still hurts.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re my friend. I trust you, and I need to get it off my chest, so you can understand where I come from. Plus, it’s always easier to face your problems head on. Can’t solve your problems by running away from them.”

“Oh... well, I’m sorry your family treated you like that. While I may not quite understand exactly where you’re coming from, I’m still sorry your family was so petty.”

“I know I’ve painted them as bad, but they’re my family, though. I don’t want you to see them as bad people.”

“I can understand that.“

“Look, I’ve been told many a time that I’m too upfront and open, and I’ve been very intrusive to do so. I’m sorry if that’s how I make you feel.”

“It’s okay. I‘m glad you can be open about it.”

“Hence why I’m more comfortable with my reputation preceding me. Thus, Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash and other ways you’ve found out about me.”

“You know, Max, your story reminds me of my own. My family didn’t let me do anything apart from harvest rocks and follow in my family’s footsteps. For the longest time, my parents would have meltdowns because I was so rebellious, and my sisters would get mad at me for hurting them, because one gets bored harvesting rocks, rocks, and more rocks; really quick. Planning parties quickly became a way for me to deal with my boredom. Then, one time, I was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I longed for something amazing to happen as I finished harvesting ahead of a loud and heavy thunderstorm. When it passed, I saw a rainbow. After the day I had, this rainbow was extra special. I needed a way to channel this immense wave of happiness that overcame me in the only way I could. So, I threw a party in one of our empty silos, and finally, after what I thought would’ve been another failure, my sisters and my parents actually smiled! I was so happy!” She finishes with tears at the thought.

I smile in empathy with her as she relives one of her happiest childhood memories. That high quickly drops when I decide to pose the question, “pardon me for asking, but are you still close with your family?”

“Absolutely!” She gleams back. “I love all three of my sisters and my parents. They accepted me for me and they’ve always showed me unconditional love even when I scared them with my first parties.” She pauses happily, but slowly returns to reality and quickly tells me, “I’m sorry I can’t say the same for you though.”

“Don’t be. Even if I was a part of the family, I probably would be that relative that they never talk to. Somewhere between estranged and ‘that’ uncle.”

“Eww!”

“See what I mean?” I say mostly to myself.

“Of course I do, silly!” She says as we finish up and get our dishes bussed.

Pinkie and I both skip out on dessert, so I take care of the bill here before we head to one of her favorite bakeries, and first employer from when she moved to Miami, Sugarcube Corner. Now a co-owner for her contributions to the family business, Pinkie has been a dear family friend to the owners from her first days as an employee, and doted on by the owners’ twins, who handle all of the business transactions now as their parents direct all their efforts to their products.

We exchange pleasantries before Pinkie orders her usual. I ask the twins to surprise me with no restrictions or allergies, so after Pinkie foots this bill, she grabs a metal table outside the shop, only because all the booths and tables indoor are occupied.

“I love this stuff!” She exclaims opening the box.

“Not dissimilar to one of the Cuban bakeries I love going to at home.”

“Ooh! Cuban bakery?! We have to go when I’m in town!”

“Absolutely.”

After we finish, we take another drive further up the peninsula; past Pompano, halfway to Palm Beach. Oh yes.

“Welcome to Boca Raton!” The sign we pass says before we jump off Highway 1.

“You pack for the beach?” She asks.

“No. I’m still travel dirty anyway.”

“Well, you may as well get dirtier, right?”

“Except this car is worth way too much to get dirtied.”

“Oh… right. Well, at least let’s drive by so you can see where my favorite beach is.”

“Don’t we just go all the way down… what road is this?”

“798. Yeah. Follow the road to Ocean.”

“Blvd?”

“And the body of water. Of course, don’t take the car all the way to the water. Unless you want to mow people over and completely submerge the car.”

“The only people I want to mow over are my friends that harassed me to fly for Southwest so I could get them free tickets to Hawaii.” I quip to myself.

“What?”

“Just a scar from my past bursting open.”

“Tell me about it.” She says as we turn back towards ACH.

“When Southwest Airlines began flights to Hawaii, I used to get hounded by friends with messages like, “what’s your airline of choice? Southwest going to Hawaii now 😬. Still makes by blood boil to this day.” I immediately take a deep breath and sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, I’ve been going through a lot, and having these bad memories resurface isn’t helping either. I really want to spend genuine quality time with you, I really do. But I feel like all I’ve been doing is venting and projecting my feelings onto you.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re having to deal with Rosalina and her moving back. And I want to do everything I can to make you smile. And none of this “oh, funny, jaja” stuff. I mean a pure smile, straight from the heart. But I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself.”

“Thank you for bearing with me. I can’t apologize enough for being such an asshole. I, just, I’m mad at the world, you know?”

“Me too.”

I put the brakes on in two forms at a traffic light as I exclaim, “wait, what?!”

“You don’t think this cheery persona came from being showered with love as a kid, do you?”

“I know you had an oppressive childhood, and that rainbow gave you a renewed zest for life. That’s what I could ascertain.”

“That much is true. But guess what, Max? I was in your position too.”

“You, Pinkie Pie, were suicidal at some point in your life?”

“More depressed than suicidal, but yes. I felt like I was being punished for…”

“Being myself.” We both say in unison, but me phrasing it more as a question.

“Jinx! Jinx again!” We continue in sync before sharing a good laugh.

Pinkie then sighs and finishes with, “When I got out of it, I vowed with all my life never to go back, and to make sure no one, and I mean NO ONE! EVER AGAIN; goes back to that place! That includes you! You hear me?!” She says poking me on the last two sentences.

“If I couldn’t, I’d be dead.”

“That’s the Spirit!”

When we return to her house, she jumps out, rolls out her Nissan Kicks and has me park in the garage. Even though I have a house just a few minutes down the road, which I remind her of, Pinkie insists I stay with her. Even though she seems to know that I’m not someone who will easily smile, she won’t let up. Or maybe that’s why she isn’t.

“That car is pretty, but maybe I should do the driving.”

“That’s fine. I love cars and driving, so I’m always one to say yes to the reigns. I’ll give it up if that’s what you want.”

“Eh? Why not?”

“Hooray!”

As Pinkie does her usual afternoon chores, I hang out on her porch and have a smoke.

“You smoke?” She asks.

“Only recently. This is super low nicotine. Anyone else would probably hate it. It’s just a lung humidifier.”

She asks for it anyway, which I oblige. When she takes a huff, she hands it back and says, “meh, I’ve had worse. There’s still a reason I don’t smoke.”

“Saving for the coke, heroin, meth, and pills?”

“No! I don’t do contraband!”

“How have you managed to survive? People want to get turnt on the illegal stuff.”

“I plan and throw parties that are all about having a good time. What I don’t throw are raves.”

“Doesn’t that directly contradict most of what the party culture of Miami represents?”

“Not really. I’m on good terms with the police.”

“Probably because donuts from Sugarcube Corner.” I say smugly taking another huff.

“Very funny Max.“ Pinkie responds unamused.

“Don’t lie, there is some truth to that.”

“I mean, when I started at Sugarcube Corner, the Chief always had his early shift breakfasts there. He and I would always talk.”

“Glad you maintained such a positive relationship with the police, especially here, where the permeating culture is all “fuck the police.”

Pinkie nods as she takes a sip of her drink.

“Is that Coke?”

“No. It’s Fanta.”

“Eh? Coke product.”

“You’re funny. You know, I don’t get how your family could treat you the way they did when you’re such a joy to be around.”

“When you retaliate against them for your own interests getting in the way of theirs, then attempt suicide because they refuse to listen to you, it’s pretty easy for them to see that ‘I wanted nothing more to do with them.’ So, they took it upon themselves to make it easier for me, by just disowning me so I wouldn’t them.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Don’t be. My life, my choice, my deathbed.” I finish with a certain fervor on the last word.

“Stop it, Max. You’re bumming me out.”

“Sorry, but you asked.”

“I didn’t ask. I only pondered.”

“It’s easier for me to be upfront with you about that. Makes it easier to be honest with myself and about myself.”

“No wonder you like Applejack so much.”

“Thanks.” I spit back with a hint of venom, taking another huff.

She shrugs defensively then gasps loudly and exclaims, “you’re in love with Applejack!!”

“Say what you want. It’s not my fault she decided to coddle me in Chicago.”

“But then you confessed to her!”

“Wha… uh. H…how would you know?”

“She told me.”

“Hmph!” I grunt in contempt. “Well, I don’t know who she’d turn to for advice like that.”

“Anyone except for Rarity or Rainbow Dash, or Twilight?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

“Eh, well. Tell you what, let’s set up for my next party. That’ll take your mind off AJ.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s go, we’ll use my Escalade.”

“What does a typical party run consist of?” I ask after belting up.

“Confetti, snacks, raw materials for my homemade snacks, and of course, the venue.”

“Where do you usually hold your parties?”

“It varies from time to time, but it’s usually just at my place.”

“And how do you deal with collateral and such?”

“I have my ways, so don’t question them.”

“I won’t argue.”

When we head out and go shopping, I text Applejack, “Hey, did you tell Pinkie Pie that I had feelings for you? I’m not mad, I just want the truth.”

After I hit send, I tune out with my own soundtrack as Pinkie turns up the radio. Of course, she tries to get me to dance in the car with her, so I smile at her antics and let my mind wander.

*text*

“I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

“Ok, thanks.”

My expression goes rife with confusion as we stop at a light.

“What’s the matter?” Pinkie asks.

“Applejack told me she didn’t tell anyone anything, but you just told me she told you. Something’s not right.”

“Well, I can assure you she told me everything.”

“What’s the story you’ve heard then?”

“Well, you had been working on the farm for about a week, and after they decided your help was no longer necessary, you came clean to Applejack and left.”

“Surprisingly accurate, though you left out the parts where I rendered her speechless after I told her, and that Apple Bloom kept teasing the two of us whenever she saw us together, which is part of why I decided to just tell AJ the truth.”

“That’s funny. That’s exactly something Apple Bloom would do.”

“Of course it is.”

“You know we could be related.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Fourth cousin twice removed by a fifth cousin, but we’re all family anyway.”

“Absolutely.”

“Speaking of family, what else can you tell me about yours?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Well, who?”

“Who what?”

“When where why how?”

“Where do I start? One brother, one sister, two first cousins - also one of each, loads of second cousins, 7 from my dad, another handful from my mom. No direct-direct (Well, first) cousins from mom, she’s an only child. Full Filipino on both sides, with like 1 or 2 percent Chinese from my dad’s side.”

“Nice! Full blooded!”

“Indeed. Unfortunately, because I’m Filipino, my most likely cause of death will be a heart attack or something cardiovascular. Every single relative I know, with some exceptions, have died from heart attacks or strokes. The exceptions: 1 from cancer, 1 from sleep apnea, and the other, was a prisoner of war - lost during the Bataan death march of World War II.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of scary to think about, especially because my knowledge of my family tree goes back 4 or 5 generations. I used to joke that I won’t need to save for retirement because I’ll die of a heart attack before I have to retire.“

“Aww.”

“It’s a joke, because I’m still here. I’m my own punchline.”

“You’re funny, but far from a joke.”

“Thanks.”

“Call from: Vinyl Scratch,” the screen shows as her Bluetooth lights up.

“Is it personal?”

“No. I don’t mind.”

“Cool.”

“Hello?”

“We at your place on Friday night?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. The usual?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

“Same time, same place!”

“Rock on!”

“Later.”

“Bye.”

We soon pull into her first stop, where we head in and stock up on various groceries; if by groceries, you mean snack foods and chips and dip. After she fills the cart with groceries, she grabs a big bag of flour, sugar, salt, vanilla, lemons, and chocolate, the lot of it.

“Cookies? Lemon bars?” I think to myself before exclaiming, “Cake!”

“Cupcakes, silly!”

“Uh huh. Cookies and lemon bars on the menu too.”

“Yep!”

When the cart is ready for checkout, I cover for “tax” purposes, so when we head to the next store, we pick up confetti, and a lot of it. Because this is a party store, we also grab balloons and streamers. Next stop: Illinois!

“Ok Max,” she says after backing her Escalade in to the drive. “Let’s unload these things, then we’ll head to Rockford.”

“Ready in 2 hours.”

Author's Note:

Spanish translation:

“If you want to put it that way. Although, by that logic, if I had/owned a sex store, but that isn’t so.”

“You speak Spanish?”

“No, but how to say it? “Enough to be dangerous.”

Dilido is actually Italian, meaning “of the beach,” or “Del Mar” for the hispanohablantes. (Spanish speakers).

In the context of the scene, Pinkie Pie lives in Miami, and Dilido is one of the Venetian Islands in South Beach.

“¿Dónde estás?” = “Where are you?”

Ja is the Spanish way of writing Ha, as in funny, haha.