1. Chapter 1

Ponyville was a town of change. Where once sat an unimportant provincial village, Ponyville now had become the centre of the world. Many years ago, where small thatched buildings were built, sophisticated and aesthetically pleasing housing and storefronts now dotted the township. It was home to one of the premier schools in Equestria, a royal residence and an affluent business community.

For all the change that had occurred, one building stood the test of time.

Sugarcube Corner had weathered crazed demi-gods, demons, shadow kings, and an evil forest. Nevertheless, it remained the same bright pink traditional confectionery store it had been for as long as most ponies could remember.

If Ponyville had a heart, it was present in the unassuming shop that lay at its centre.

Of course, the store was only as good as its owner, and when that owner was the greatest party pony in all of Equestria, it was little wonder that Sugarcube Corner had become an institution for young and old alike.

Pound Cake swept furiously in vain at the floor. Confetti proved to be incredibly difficult to clean properly. The worst part was that the confetti got everywhere, into all the small nooks and crannies of the shop floor, resulting in large colourful build-ups of trash that drove Pound insane.

His sister’s magic would have made the manual process of cleaning redundant. Unfortunately, she was out of town for the week on a trip to see their parents, leaving Pound alone to clean up after the latest celebration at Sugarcube Corner.

He angled the brush on its side and furiously poked at the steady growing pile of afterparty trash he assembled in the middle of the floor. He sighed in defeat as the garbage remained frustratingly immovable.

Though the aftermath of the latest party was not the only thing on Pound's mind that day. His motivation for work had never been precisely top tier, but lately, he had become increasingly dispassionate about his regular errands of cooking and cleaning.

It probably had to do with the fact that he had not been paid in two months.

Pinkie was a great mare, like family to the Cakes. But her relatively…erratic nature meant she was prone to forgetting simple everyday things.

Such as paying Pound his wages.

He believed her distracted nature had something to do with the sugary foods she regularly ate. He usually was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt when it came to such matters.

But this was unusual even for her.

Pound had decided today was going to be the day that he asked her about what exactly was going on. He knew it was the opportune time considering it was just after a party, Pinkie was always in a good mood after a party. Pound disliked asking about money. It made him feel entitled considering Pinkie allowed him stay at the Corner for free. But when his lack of bits came at the expense of hanging out with friends and impressing the cute mares at the School of Friendship was where Pound drew the line.

The bell above the entrance door rang.

"We're closed," said Pound tersely as the strands of the brush tangled with the trash monster. "Lunch Break."

"Hrmph."

Pound turned to repeat to the new entrant what he just said but stopped when he noticed who exactly was their unwelcome guest. He bit his tongue and frowned deeply.

"Potter Plots."

"That's Mr Potter to you," growled the stallion. Potter Plots was a deeply overweight earth pony. His coat was a pale earth colour overlaid by a thick black vest that Pound associated with the nobles of Canterlot. The jacket was ill-fitted, straining at its finely crafted seems to contain the pony that wore it. The coat gave Potter the look of a sickly, sweating frog. He occasionally drew a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead repeatedly.

Potter Plots indeed had a repulsive appearance, befitting for a genuinely unpleasant pony.

Potter was a business magnate that had come to the local town some years ago. When Filthy Rich retired to Manehattan, Potter exploited the gap and bought up several of Rich's stores. He may have looked like an asphyxiated toad, but his nature was more becoming of a buzzard.

"What are you doing here?" hissed Pound.

"Shouldn't you be graffitiing some wall, boy?" he sneered, his lips wobbling violently.

"Only if it's yours, sir," snapped Pound. The elder stallion waved a dismissive hoof in Pound's direction.

"Bah, I am not here to engage in idle prattle with you," he scoffed as he shuffled away from Pound. "Where's Miss Pie?"

"She's out."

"No, I'm here," called Pinkie from the kitchen. Potter shot a searing look at Pound before turning towards the kitchen doors. He paid no heed to the doors to the galley being labelled as 'Staff Only' as he pushed through them. There was something especially grating about how he lurched about the place as if he owned it. Pound dropped his broom and scampered to follow.

The kitchen of Sugarcube corner remained unchanged, much like the building itself. A simple counter for whatever baking project that was ongoing was the centrepiece of the kitchen. Opposite to the stand was a bunch of old presses that was stacked with hundreds of ingredients. Pinkie had written no labels to identify what shelf contained which items. She did not need it.

Despite her distracted nature, Pinkie had a remarkable memory of where she could obtain anything in the kitchen. Because of this, she loathed any form of change. Thus, the kitchen age did show

The paint peeled from the various counters, and the old oven and stove stood where they had always been near the wall. They were rusted but surprisingly functional. Pans were stacked haphazardly near the corner, swaying from time to time with the light breeze from an open window. Pinkie thought it gave the place character.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

She had her head in the oven as she moved a dirty tray out and deposited it into the sink. She turned and beamed at Mr Potter.

"Hi, Mr Plots!" she said, giving him a small wave.

"Potter is more than sufficient," he snorted.

"Okie dokie lokie!" said Pinkie, the mare produced a bowl from under the counter and gently laid a carton of eggs next to it. She then moved to rummage inside the cupboards, probably looking for flour. Pinkie's tail bounced to some inaudible tune as she hummed absentmindedly.

"Perhaps Mr Potter can come back later, Pinkie?" offered Pound, failing to get around the stallion in the confined space.

"No, he's alright," clarified Pinkie as she pulled a large bag of flour from a cupboard that was far too small to contain such a thing. The petite mare pulled it from its cubie effortlessly and slammed the sack with ease upon the worktop with the bowl. Pound did not question such things; it was just Pinkie being Pinkie. "I'm glad to welcome any friend in my shop."

"Indeed," said Potter evenly. "Have you considered my offer, Miss Pie?"

"Your offer?" asked Pinkie with surprise. Her eyes widened. "Oh yes! Give me a seconmundo, hmmm, I just thought I had it here." Pinkie stuck a hoof into her mane, drawing out a random assortment of items. Eventually, she produced a packet of letters bound with a rubber band. "Ah, bingo!" Pinkie undid the binding, as she scanned the headings on the notes. She paused at one and placed the remainder on the counter. She unfolded the letter and proceeded to read the contents silently. Pound and Potter sat in uncomfortable silence as they waited for Pinkie to finish. "Hmm, oh yes, that's a dousie of an offer alright!"

"And?" said Potter, impatience clear in his tone. A loud 'ding' rang out amongst the relatively silent kitchen. Pinkie turned to one of the ovens and opened the oven door.

"Oh, right sorry, the cookies might burn." Pinkie turned to regard Potter finally. She continued to smile, earnestly. "While it's a super generous offer, Mr Potter, my answer is still no. I'm sorry."

"What?" huffed Potter, indignantly. Pound relished the look of surprise and anger that crossed over the stallion's sunken features. Pinkie in the meantime had removed the baked cookies from the oven.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't talk while I'm cooking, it’s rude," said Pinkie cheerfully. "I am politely declining your offer."

"This is absurd," he protested, his jowls swaying. "My offer is the best you're going to get for a dump like this!"

"Hey!" snarled Pound, as he roughly shoved his way in front of Potter. "This dump was my home, you overgrown wart." Potter rolled his eyes.

"Pound, that's rude, Mr Potter is a guest," scolded Pinkie, shaking her head disapprovingly. Potter narrowed his eyes at both of the ponies, rage visible on his face, and his teeth gnashed furiously. His mouth contorted into what Pound assumed was an attempt at a smug smirk, though its twisted nature was more befitting of a scowl.

"You know when they said you were mad I only half-believed them," he hissed. "Obnoxious yes, but how could a mad mare run a pastry store for so long? I suppose I have my answer." He turned to leave. "You are mad." He turned his head to glower at the pair one last time. "Doesn't matter to me, either you'll sell this heap to me or the bank will." He adjusted his coat and strode forward. "I'd wish you good fortune, but we both know you won't have any. Good day, Miss Pie."

"What a jerk," said Pound loudly enough for the still departing Potter to hear. Pinkie frowned deeply as she shuffled around the kitchen.

"Mr Potter may not be the nicest pony, but everypony deserves respect." She shrugged and returned to greasing a pan before her.

"Pinkie, he's a bully!" protested Pound. "He treats everypony like dirt and ponies are too afraid to stand up to him. I'd love to wipe that smug grin off his face."

"Mr Potter is an old pony," interjected Pinkie. "He's cranky and likes bits. Sometimes you gotta try extra hard to get through that." Pinkie focused on mixing sugar in with the butter. She moved with a certain degree of grace when cooking as the years of experience allowed her to bake with minimal effort.

Pound was about to object before something caught his eye. In the process of retrieving Potter's letter, Pinkie had left several other messages on the counter. Pound's curiosity turned to concern as the words on the cover pages stood out to him. The large block letters inked in red spelt out various concerning words such as ‘notice’, ‘reminder’, and ‘warning’.

"Pinkie, what are these?" For a mare whose diet consisted mainly of sugary sweets, Pinkie could move with speed when she desired. She swept up the letters before Pound could see more and laughed nervously before shoving the letters back into her mane.

"Oh nothing," she said sweetly. "Just some, uh, silly little letters!" She returned to mixing the egg into the batter, her movements more stilted than before.

"Pinkie.” She paused her cooking, for a moment, as she sheepishly regarded Pound. She let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh well, the good ponies at the bank are, um, just reminding me to keep up with my payments," said Pinkie. She rubbed her leg with her other hoof. "I made a few oopsies with the payments, so they kindly wrote some letters so I wouldn't forget."

"What?" asked Pound, barely registering what he was hearing.

"I'm sorry about your wages," sighed Pinkie, she stirred the flour and the eggs. "I know…I forgot again.” Pinkie’s eyes were downcast. A look of what could be described as a mix of embarrassment and shame plain on her face. “I promise this is the last time." Pinkie laughed solemnly. "I haven't been a good friend recently, have I?

"Forget about that," interrupted Pound. He stopped just short of her, laying a hoof on her shoulder. Pinkie dropped her stirrer. "Pinkie, are you in trouble?"

"Oh, no, no, no." Pinkie shook her head vigorously. "The Corner's just..." Pinkie clicked her tongue, "…having a rough patch is all."

"So that's why Potter was here. He knows." Pinkie nodded. "How did this happen?"

"Oh well, you know, there are so many super-duper shops now with all these new sweets from all around the world!" exclaimed Pinkie with genuine excitement. Even when speaking about the competition, Pinkie never had a bad word to say. "And you can buy so many super fantastic sweets for so little bits!" Pinkie titled her head. "I guess maybe the Corner can’t always keep up. I don't know. Rarity was always better at these types of things."

"But Pinkie…if you can't pay the bank, you'll lose the Corner."

"I know." All was silent for a moment. Pinkie opened a drawer and drew out some whipped cream. She liked to make faces on the cookies. Pound found his voice.

"So, what about Potter's offer?"

"It's still no, Pound." Pinkie shook her head; with years of experience, she gently overlaid the happiest smile she could over the cookies.

"Pinkie, you could lose everything!" Pinkie stopped. She gently laid the whipped cream can next to the tray. She turned to look at Pound. Her expression was mystifyingly blank, which only worried him even more.

"Pound, if I take his offer, I will lose everything.”

"I don't understand." Pinkie smiled sadly.

"My dad always worried about money," blurted Pinkie.

"Your dad? As in from the rock farm?"

"Yep, that's the one. Life was tough on the farm. We didn't have much besides each other. We had to work during the summers on the farm from dawn till dusk because dad couldn't afford to hire ponies to help him and he couldn't do it alone because his back was bad.”

“That sounds...rough.”

“Yeah, it was,” she whispered. Pound had never known Pinkie to be serious about anything, he at times honestly forgot that this mare came from a tough as nails rural community. Maybe she had told him, but he never cared that much at the time. He was more focused on when his shift ended. Pinkie's mane deflated slightly. Pound instantly outstretched a hoof but stopped short. He cursed his cowardice. "The only time I saw him cry was when he couldn't afford Hearths’ Warming gifts for us one year." Pound didn't know what to say. "My dad's a good pony, but money made him sad.” Pinkie clicked her tongue again. “A lot."

"I'm sorry." It felt like a meaningless, hollow statement. Pound's parents were relatively well off. He had never even considered Pinkie had grown up in different circumstances. Pound began to realise that perhaps he had taken the silly pink pony for granted. Maybe, Potter was right, that he was just a stupid kid.

"When I got my cutie mark, I promised I would never worry about money like him," said Pinkie quietly. "I would do everything I could to make him smile. When bills were late, I'd put a whoopie cushion on his seat. When he worried about quotas, I'd cover the farming equipment in clingfilm. And it helped. It didn't make that stuff go away, but I think dad appreciated it." Pinkie laid a letter on the counter.

It was the very same letter that had come from Potter. Within its contents, the sum of bits offered was prominently displayed. Pound’s eyes widened. Pinkie had not lied, the offer was very generous, even by the bludgeoning Ponyville prices.

Pound gasped. "Pinkie, you could live the rest of your days comfortably. You could open a new shop and everything." Pinkie regarded Pound quizzically.

"Why would I do that?" giggled Pinkie. "When everything I have is here."

"What?"

"I always wanted to run this place, ever since I first started working here." Pinkie sighed wistfully, her smile serene, a twinkle in her eye. "When I bought this place, your dad was all like 'you take care of her, Pinkie'." While repeating his father's words, Pinkie made an extremely admirable if silly impression of him. If the discussion wasn't so serious, he might have laughed. “It was the most fantastic, super day of my life. I held the craziest party you could ever imagine that night. I was cleaning punch out of the floorboards for weeks!” Pinkie’s smile was radiant. “Good times."

"If you won't take Potter's offer then at least ask your friends; they'll be sure to help out!" Pound stated, his wings ruffled in agitation.

"No," said Pinkie very evenly. "If my friends give me bits, then they don't become my friends anymore, they just become another bank." Pinkie nodded to herself with conviction. "I love the girls, but this is my job and my responsibility."

"Pinkie, this is no time to be proud!"

"I'm not being proud, Pound. I'm being, uh, mature, I guess? That feels funny to say." Pinkie wagged her tongue. "I got this place into this mess, and it's my job to get it out of it." Pinkie poured the thoroughly stirred batter into a clean pan. She gently took the pot with her mouth and placed it into the oven. She turned her head to the still cooling cookies. He let her finish before he spoke again.

"But Pinkie, this is just a building, it's…not important, especially--"

"This place is me,” said Pinkie definitely, her tone brimming with determination. “If I lose this place, I will lose it on my terms. Not Potter's.” Pinkie bounced once in place. “Sugarcube Corner isn't just my home, Pound. It's their home too, and a Pie never gives up!"

"Their home?"

"I didn't do it for the money, Pound. I did it for them." Pinkie pointed beyond the kitchen doors, at first Pound thought she was talking about the shop front, but it was clear that she was speaking more broadly than just the walls of the Corner.

She was referring to none other than the regular residents of Ponyville.

"But you've done enough,” said Pound. “Ponies would understand."

"Oh, it's never enough.” Pinkie cleared the bowl into the sink. She kept shaking her head. “Not for me.” She paused before looking back at Pound. “You should ask about Water Lily.” Pound titled his head. “Her dad is a soldier, so he's away a lot. She only sees him twice a year sometimes. She hasn't been smiling since his last deployment, according to her mom. Today’s party was the first day she had seen her happy in months.

“You know about that?” Pinkie nodded.

"That's why I do this," said Pinkie as she pulled some candles from a drawer. "That's why I will do this. And that's why I will continue to do this for as long as I can.” Pinkie pursed her lips like she had eaten something particularly sour. “I'm not stupid despite what ponies say. I know the world isn't always fun, but if I can make ponies laugh, if I can take away the blues if only for a moment then it will all be worth it.” Pinkie gazed toward the window, the noise of the town filtering through into the kitchen. She grinned contently.

“Pinkie?”

“When I'm a super old pony, I want to look back and know that I did something good with the time I have,” said Pinkie softly, as if not even speaking to Pound. “You know Rarity's got her shops, Applejacks got the farm, Rainbow Dash has the 'bolts, Fluttershy has her sanctuary and Twilight's got the whole of Equestria! But I've got this town, and that's enough."

"But if it all goes wrong you can't do those things if the bank owns this place."

"I don't focus on what may be, only what I can do at the moment." She shrugged. "For Water Lily, for Drawing Page, who still has writer's block, for Rose Luck who worries about her husband overworking, for Swift Mane ‘cause--"

Pinkie continued to list names of ponies that lived in the town with surprising precision. Ponies she met with or joked with regularly or only occasionally. She didn't differentiate. It was clear they all mattered to her. "Oh, and how could I forget Little Rocky who still gets scared on Nightmare Ni--” Pinkie was interrupted by a tight hug. She blinked, still processing what Pound was doing before gently reciprocating and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Pinkie, I'm sorry," said Pound, his voice barely a whisper. "I know I haven't been the best employee. I'm always complaining, and I-I don't appreciate you, not as a friend or as family." Pinkie opened her mouth to interrupt, but Pound continued, "I-I take advantage of your kindness." His voice hitched slightly. "But Pinkie… you mean so much to this town. You do make a difference. Ponyville wouldn't be Ponyville without you. And you are right, we can make it through this." He paused. "I Pinkie promise." He still couldn't see Pinkie's face, but he could practically feel her smile.

"A Pinkie promise can't be broken Pound," she said with a giggle. "You know the rules."

"Then let's make sure I don't break it." Pinkie tightened the hug extra hard at that. She parted from the hug and faced Pound, a hoof still on his shoulder. Her smile had returned, Pound swore her eyes looked extra watery though, yet still they sparkled with joy that only Pinkie could possess.

"Come on, help me clean up. We need to get ready to design the cake! The next filly will be here at four."

"Sure, Pinkie." Pound donned a white apron hanging from the press. After awkwardly fitting it over his head, he looked over the kitchen to see what required his attention. He noticed a haphazardly stacked grouping of saucepans to Pinkie’s far right. With difficulty he gathered them with his wings and stumbled to deposit them into the sink for cleaning. So eager was Pound in his new found optimism for the role that he had barely thought about whether taking so many pieces of kitchen equipment was wise.

Such concerns proved to be valid when he bumped into one of the cupboards close to the sink. Said cupboard swung open and deposited a bag of flour on his head. A loud clang echoed through the room as he dropped the saucepans. Pinkie had turned soon enough to receive a puff of the white powder in her face. Pound stood there unblinking. The kitchen was saturated with the pesky substance. Pound gaped, questioning whether he should apologise or groan in despair at the new mess.

Pinkie snorted, which then gradually descended into uncontrollable giggles as she pointed at Pound. Pound realised how ridiculous they both looked and soon he could not help himself but join in with the laughter. Soon their chuckles filled the whole shop.

Pound laughed heartily, not because he was afraid that one day this all might be gone. He smiled because he knew that he was here now, experiencing the little joys that came with working in Sugarcube Corner. He supposed he had forgotten how he relished these moments of cheerfulness.

At that moment, he began to think that he finally understood Pinkie. As he shared in genuine joy with a close friend, he would give anything for this moment to last forever. He realised that everything she did was in pursuit of these small moments of happiness.

To share the little wonders of laughter with all ponies that entered her life, for joy was truly worth more than gold.

Author's Note:

Dedicated to all those who bring joy to others while doing what they love.

A huge thank you to EverfreePony who did some tremendous work in editing this piece together!

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MixMassBasher

MixMassBasher #1 · Aug 28th, 2019 · 3 · ·

Sad but uplifting. Hopefully Pinkie doesn't lose the shop again. She's being too stubborn not asking for help. It was literally the first thing AJ learnt back in the day

Coronet the lesser

Coronet the lesser #2 · Aug 28th, 2019 · 2 · ·

9804074

I wouldn’t say stubborn, I’d say she’s just trying to be an adult. Considering the past I outlined for her in this story, I think Pinkie Pie has an aversion to involving those close to her with her finances. Pound only knows because just happened to be there.

Thanks you!

Comickook

Comickook #3 · Aug 28th, 2019 · 1 · ·

Excellent job on the latest installment to your series. The exchanges and characterizations are quite well done. And, yeah, I can understand Pinkie's reasons for holding out the way she has. Mr. Potter might be a good business-stallion, but that's literally ALL he has going for him, while Pinkie, at least, still has her family and friends. And, speaking of those friends, yeah, Pinkie actually DOES have a point concerning her friends' accomplishments. Pound's chats with Pinkie were great too.

All in all, I'll definitely be looking forward to the next story in this series.

Coronet the lesser