Ponk Home, Virginia

by totallynotabrony

Smoke and Fire

Fresh air. Pinkie needed some. She took a huge gasp as she stepped out of the church.

The sun had gone down and the air was cool. Pinkie stood on the front step, people flowing around her like a rock in a stream.

Hers was not the only whole-family to come to the service that night. Pinkie spotted them in the crowd and fell in step on the walk to the parking lot. Her mother looked up and smiled. “You’re back.”

If anything, it only made Pinkie more uncomfortable and unsure about her place in Dashville. Having seen the outside world and having gotten a taste of what she thought she wanted…she still wasn’t sure this was it.

“Hey girls, can I talk to you for a minute?” Pinkie said, sliding through the center of the group to face her three sisters as they walked. Her parents and grandparents gave them a look, but kept walking.

“What?” Limestone demanded. She did stop, though.

“I got hired to host a par-er, an event here in Dashville,” said Pinkie, lowering her voice. “It’s tomorrow night. I was hoping you three could come.”

Marble’s eyebrows lifted. Limestone said, “What kind of event?” Maud glanced at the other two, and then looked at Pinkie.

“It’s a low key event at the college,” Pinkie said. “Just cake and music.”

“The college? I’m in.” Limestone grinned, all teeth.

“If you come to the quarry,” said Maud.

Well, she’d been to the house and the church. “Sure,” Pinkie agreed.

After telling her sisters where to find the party, Pinkie said goodnight and drove back to the truckstop. Despite the day she’d had, well, it wasn’t worse than the day before. She felt optimistic as she fell into bed.

In the morning, Pinkie had her coffee and leisurely prepared a few things for the party. She got the truck and trailer mated back up and had time to fix a few of the more unsightly pieces of tattered graphics. Tearing them off seemed like a good idea when she went on the run, but in retrospect it probably didn’t matter that much because who else would be driving a pink rig with PONKPK license plates? She was beginning to wonder if she’d overreacted.

I mean, it was just a gang of Chinese drug smugglers… They probably offered all sorts of people the opportunity to transport things for them. People probably turned them down all the time. It didn’t have anything to do with that city block in Miami burning; she was just overreacting.

As the evening approached, Pinkie got going. She’d very rarely been to College Heights before, but found the sorority easily enough - always helpful when they put up Greek lettering in ten thousand point font on the building facade.

It was slightly disorienting being alone for this event. She’d gotten used to having help. Pinkie Pie's roadshow turned into a travelling carnival so slowly, she only realized what was happening when a convoy of party-seeking caravans started following the eighteen wheeler she'd hired to carry the stuff that didn't fit into her own trailer. Or the tour bus they picked up in Duluth from a deathcore band that had suddenly went under after something about a murder suicide involving the bassist. Or possibly something about the drummer getting a job as a CPA. Or maybe both, the used tour bus salesman had gotten Pinkie confused. They'd never gotten around to painting over the cutesy balloon lettering of the band logo. Pinkie wished her house band was actually as friendly and approachable as Party Cannon had sounded.

She’d left the whole crew behind when she’d run. They were definitely wondering where she was right now.

Distracting herself, she parked her rig at the curb outside the sorority, lowered the corner jacks, and started the generator. Going around to the back of the trailer, she hit the switches that lowered the tailgate.

A layer of fog and haunting tones rolled out the open door, an ethereal golden glow revealing Pinkie’s tools of the trade. The special effects were only for her own amusement, but she was glad she had rigged it up.

She stepped onto the trailer and released the parking brake of a vintage Maserati TC convertible. It was painted in metalflake red and rolled on gold-plated wire wheels. Pinkie backed it down the tailgate and to the curb with gravity.

Next, she activated the trailer’s slide-outs to increase the room inside and folded down tables from the walls. The inside of the trailer featured extravagant vinyl graphics of her logo and brand just the same as the outside used to.

The tile floor already appeared clean, so she kept unloading her stuff. She ran wires between the car, trailer, and rolling DJ booth, hung the disco ball, and started to preheat her ovens.

The three girls from the other day appeared just then. Even if they knew who she was, they still appeared starstruck that Pinkie had actually shown up, and brought all this stuff.

Pinkie finished closing the oven door with her hip and turned to smile at them standing at the foot of the tailgate. “Cake should be out soon. I brought the grill, did you bring the meat?” She didn’t trust anything in the trailer’s freezer at the moment.

“Um, there might be some in the kitchen?” the redheaded girl asked. “We don’t actually live here, since we haven’t officially gotten in yet.”

“Well, I’m here to make that happen,” said Pinkie. “I’ll tell them this was all your idea. Er, what are your names?”

The pale girl, who seemed to have more fashion sense than the other two, was named Sweetie Belle. The lean, tanned one was Scootaloo. Apple Bloom was the redhead with a trace of a country accent.

“We live with my big sister at the old orchard outside town,” Apple Bloom said. “Though it would be easier to live here, so we didn’t have to commute.”

“Seems like a nice place. Centrally located,” Pinkie commented, glancing at the sorority building as she walked over to the car. “Y’know, there’s an old rumor about Virginia A&M. They say sororities were required to be located on campus because any group home for young ladies might as well be a brothel in the eyes of the town fathers. And mothers.”

“What is it about this town?” Scootaloo laughed.

“And how did you hear that?” Sweetie Belle asked Pinkie.

“I actually grew up around here,” Pinkie explained as she lifted the hood of the car.

“That’s really cool,” said Scootaloo. “Hey, um, can I get a selfie?”

“Sure!” Pinkie posed for the three of them. Scootaloo’s phone, held high, revealed the complete lack of an engine in the car behind them. After the picture, Pinkie turned around and began to light the grill that fit neatly under the hood. The igniters made the typical tic-tic-tic-whoosh sound that was half the charm of a gas grill.

Pinkie went around and opened the trunk, revealing a set of subwoofers that barely fit. Other speakers of various sizes were mounted in the car’s interior and all around the trailer.

Other members of the sorority had begun to notice the setup, as well as random passers-by. Just in case they hadn’t, Pinkie started the music. She was already square with the RIAA for public playing.

Apple Bloom actually did find a couple of pounds of hamburger somewhere and a loaf of bread. It was only going to make weird sort-of soft tacos with one slice of bread wrapped around a dab of meat to ensure everyone got some. Well, that was better than nothing. This wasn’t the first college party Pinkie had done and most of the time kids were just happy to get free food.

Pretty soon, there was a small crowd gathered around the trailer, talking, some of them dancing, just hanging out. While the crowd was mostly girls from the sorority, other people had begun to join, a few boys circling like predators around the herd.

Pinkie had put out the red Solo cups, though just with a cooler of instant lemonade. She could have made arrangements for a liquor license in this state, but the three girls who had contracted her were freshmen. Alcohol wasn’t in their budget, anyway. Pinkie spotted a few of the guests with flasks who thought they were being sneaky.

When the first cake came out of the oven, Pinkie slapped pre-chilled frosting on it from the fridge. The temperature difference balanced out well enough that it didn’t melt everywhere. It had the added bonus of sealing in the moistness of the cake itself. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but she’d perfected the art of being good enough. Again, college kids were happy just to have it, and would rather have slightly sticky cake than wait an extra fifteen minutes for it to cool. Pinkie cut it, and put it out with paper plates and biodegradable utensils. Again, she had to know her crowd. It was a country school, but hippies were everywhere these days.

The cake had just gone out when Pinkie’s sisters arrived. They were older than the students, but not so much as to stick out. Pinkie wiggled through the dense crowd to greet them.

“So this is it,” said Limestone. She actually seemed too interested to even snarl.

“There’s cake.”

That got the attention of the others, too.

First, though, she took them by the grill to get an underwhelming bread burger. Apple Bloom was doing a good job, despite her initial reluctance. Pinkie had said “grill your own meat,” after all.

“What did you do to this car?” said Limestone.

“It just seemed like a convenient way to combine entertainment essentials into one eye-catching package,” said Pinkie. “I’ve got the gas turned up for grilling now, but I can also do low-temperature slow-cooking.”

“How low?” said Apple Bloom. Pinkie was reminded that some folks in this part of the world were very particular about their barbecue.

“My Maserati does 185. I put this grill in; now I don’t drive.” Pinkie added, “Farenheit, of course.”

“Pinkie, how many times have I told you, the scientific community frowns on your Imperial units of measure,” Maud replied patiently.

Pinkie got her sisters cake and went back to hosting. She occasionally adjusted the music when she noticed a shift in the crowd, cleaned up when she spotted trash, and sometimes had to stop and take a selfie with someone who recognized her.

More people had started to drift in. Maud and Marble hung at the edge of the crowd, not talking to anyone else. A few minutes later, Pinkie spotted Limestone huddled with someone over behind the car. He seemed a little crusty, and wore a headband and a patchy mustache.

“Who’s that?” Pinkie asked the next time she went by Maud.

“He goes by Captain Planet. He’s a drug dealer.”

Pinkie came up short. “Wait, what!?”

Maud recognized the rhetoric and simply stared at her.

Pinkie’s eyes went between Maud and where Limestone was apparently making a transaction. “Is she really-”

“Yes. These days, she mostly does crystal molly. Though, she might be switching. She said something about it getting hard to find.”

It wasn’t that Pinkie didn’t know anything about drugs. She was in the party business after all, but most of the substances that snuck into her events were either pot or sometimes X. She had heard of crystal molly, some kind of new designer chemical that was said to somehow combine the blissfulness of molly and the hard-edged craziness of crystal meth.

“What would mom and dad say?” Pinkie accused.

“You think they don’t know?” Maud looked at Pinkie, bitterness barely visible on her face. “They can’t admit it to themselves, and they won’t tell anyone. Can you imagine if the church found out?”

“Well, why don’t you stop her?”

“I’ve tried. I could go over there right now. It would only cause a scene and get someone arrested.” Maud turned to stare at Limestone’s back, expression cloudy. “I’m sure you don’t want that to happen at your party, either.”

“But-but we have to do something,” Pinkie whined quietly.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Maud replied. “All I can really do is just make sure she’s safe.”

Even as worried as she was, Pinkie caught the barb in Maud’s words. She felt it in her heart, too. Could she have stopped Limestone if she’d been around?

It ate at her the rest of the evening, even as she drove back to the truckstop, emptied the trailer’s grey water tanks, and tossed her trash in a dumpster. Maybe going to the quarry the next day would give her ideas on how to handle Limestone.

Pinkie lay on her mattress, listlessly scrolling her phone. Even as worried as her mind was, her body was coming down from the rush of the party, doing what she loved. She just liked seeing people enjoying themselves. Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle had thanked her profusely, though Pinkie was happy to help.

She saw that she’d been tagged in something and opened the picture. It was the one Scootaloo had taken. Smiles all around, not knowing what was going on in the background.

Well, now Pinkie did know. And now, she could do something about it.

In the morning, she got up and put on boots, jeans, and flanel. They were more designer than functional, but still the closest thing to work clothes she had these days. What would her family think, Pinkie wondered as she drove her pink pickup truck to the quarry.

The front gate was as she remembered it, flanked by two large stones in rough cube shapes. The metal gates were swung open. The sign was faded, but still perfectly legible: Pie Family Aggregates.

Just inside the gate was a low building that was temporary, yet had been around as long as Pinkie could remember. A small sign that said office was by one of the doors. The other door was unmarked. Most of the cars parked around were closer to the further door.

Pinkie parked and went into the office. It was exactly as she remembered it, except for maybe newer computers and phones. It had the smell of dirt and the same worn...well, everything.

Her mother looked up from a desk as she came in. “Pinkamina! This is unexpected.”

“I just came by to see everyone.”

“They’re just about to head out.” She tipped her head towards the accompanying wall.

Pinkie said goodbye and went next door. There, she found Limestone and Maud getting ready. This side of the building was part locker room and part break room. It was even more dirty and worn than the office.

Limestone muttered something as Pinkie came in. Maud nodded to her. Pinkie glanced around, spotting a coffee maker among the detritus. She grabbed a cup, purposely not looking inside, and poured coffee.

Pinkie gagged on the first sip. “Wha-what even is this? Is this even coffee?”

Limestone smirked. “Too much for you, city girl?”

Pinkie picked up the bag of grounds. “I have nothing against this brand. Apparently, you just suck at making coffee.”

Limestone changed the subject. “If you’re coming with us today, listen to everything I say. You haven’t been around for a while, so you might have forgotten how things work around here.”

“So you...still suck at making coffee, or is this new?”

It was mildly astonishing that Limestone ignored her and went on. “Stay out of the way of the trucks. Don’t get too close to the walls so you’re out of the way of falling rocks.”

While she talked, Pinkie had put down the coffee cup and was attempting to clear up the table. There were crumbs, dirt, coffee stains, and even a handful of gravel for good measure.

She had just lifted a small plastic bag when Limestone said, “And stay away from Holder’s Boulder.”

“What’s Holder’s Boulder?” asked Pinkie.

“Her last dealer safeguarded his crack cocaine inside his rectum,” Maud replied.

Pinkie hastily dropped the bag. “Wait…” she paused “...was that a joke, Maud?”

Limestone, face red, threw open the door and stalked out. Maud leisurely went after her, with Pinkie bringing up the rear.

“That’s Holder’s Boulder,” said Limestone, jabbing a finger at a huge monolith perched on the far quarry wall. “We were carving out that side and eventually cut it free. Making sure it wasn’t going to come down wrong was going to take too much time and effort, so we just left it.”

“It looks unsafe, like it could fall,” Pinkie observed.

“That’s why you should stay away from it,” Limestone said.

“I feel like it looks kind of like a monument,”Pinkie went on. “Like a mascot or something, like if it ever fell it would mark a dark day in the quarry’s history, a metaphorical end of days.” She turned to Limestone. “Why would you do that? Are you trying for a Fall of the House of Usher vibe? Because that's how you get falls of houses of guys named Usher!”

“No, it isn’t a metaphor for anything. It’s a fucking boulder. What is this, a romance novel?”

“There are other literary devices out there than those used in Granny’s harlequin books,” Maud put in.

“Nothing mom and dad would allow in the house, there aren’t.”

Limestone and Maud climbed aboard aboard an enormous dump truck parked behind the building that dwarfed any of the personal automobiles. It used to be yellow, but was now mostly rust. Pinkie rolled up her sleeves and followed them. There was only one seat, so while Limestone sat in it, Pinkie and Maud held onto the ladder outside the cab.

“Isn’t this also one of those things that isn’t safe?” said Pinkie.

“Only if you fall off,” said Limestone, starting the engine.

They drove down into the quarry pit. The truck’s suspension mostly just consisted of flattening the ground as it went. Still, Pinkie enjoyed the ride.

Limestone pointed out things along the way, shouting above the noise. “Don’t go near the rock crusher, it sometimes spits out chips. Don’t get caught in the auger. Don’t go near the water at the bottom of the pit; a crocodile lives there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Pinkie. “Crocodiles live in saltwater. Gummy is an alligator.”

“I still don’t know how it survives,” Maud muttered.

“I asked Marble to feed him while I was gone.”

Both of them looked sharply at her. “What?” Pinkie said. “It’s not like she had to do much. A lot of wild animals find themselves lost in the quarry.”

They came to a pile of loose rock that had been blasted from the walls. A large loader was working the pile, scraping up bucketfulls. Pinkie saw her father driving it and waved with her free hand. He seemed surprised.

Limestone stopped the truck and their father began to load it. Huge, jagged boulders made a sound louder than thunder as they tumbled into the truck’s bed.

With a full load, the truck started back up the hill. At the crusher, Limestone backed in and pulled the hydraulic lever to raise the bed. Maud and Pinkie got off with the load.

Most of the rocks had gone into the loading area. Maud walked over to a small booth with all manner of controls inside, Pinkie tagging along. Limestone drove off for another load.

Off the truck, it was quieter. Maud grabbed a grease gun and headed for the crusher. She connected the hose to the first zerk and started pumping.

After a moment, she said, “It’s strange how I only realized I missed you when you came back.”

Pinkie looked at her, confused.

“I knew I had another sister, but I never really thought about it. Nobody talked about you. But when you came back...I remembered everything. I overreacted. It was too much at once. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“I’m sorry,” said Pinkie. She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, but now felt that she might have something. If she had been forgotten...that had to be at least partially her fault.

She wrapped her arms around Maud from behind and rested her chin on Maud’s shoulder. Maud stopped pumping the grease. After a moment, she leaned her head sideways to rest against Pinkie’s.

“I’m not going to do that to you again,” said Pinkie. She added, “I want to make it up to you.”

After a moment, Maud said, “You can start by fixing the coffee.”

Pinkie laughed and disengaged the hug. “No problem.” She said goodbye to Maud and walked back up to the office, where she threw the coffee out and made a new pot. Borrowing a sticky note and a pen from her mother, she wrote out simple directions. Hopefully Limestone would follow them.

She drove away from the quarry, pondering on what she would do next. Maud had seemed to take back what she had said the first night, but that didn’t mean Pinkie wasn’t still thinking about it. Maybe...some kind of benefit event? The rock walls might make for nice acoustics.

Pulling into the truckstop parking lot, Pinkie frowned at the sight of a fire truck in the back parking lot. Her eyes widened when she realized whose trailer it was parked near.

There wasn’t much smoke, but that was still a lot more than she wanted to see. Pinkie jumped out of her truck, hurrying into the crowd of people standing around.

The firefighters didn’t seem too concerned, so apparently the fire was out. A small crowd of police were behind them. A man in a trucker hat was telling a cop, “I seen a car pull up and throw something out. There was a big fireball.”

A couple of other truckers stood around, some of them with empty fire extinguishers lying on the ground beside them.

Most of the side of the trailer was scorched, with powered extinguisher mix and water everywhere. One of the firefighters commented, “Good thing it didn’t catch the tires, or there would have been nothing left.”

Forget about the trailer. It could have burned to the ground and it would have meant the same to Pinkie - the important thing was, they had found her.

She turned away, shoulders hunched. She hurried back to the truck and fished in the center console, finding a business card. She dialed the number.

“Hello, this is detective Whet Stone.”

“Hi, this is Pinkie Pie. I, uh, have a problem.”

“Oh!” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you to call, but I’m glad you did. Are you the owner of a trailer with Florida license plates?”

He’d apparently found out before she had. Surprised, Pinkie asked, “How did you know?”

“I’m looking at it right now.”

Pinkie turned around and walked back towards the crowd. She saw Whet Stone with his phone to his ear. “How does it look?” she asked.

“Well...salvageable, probably.”

“I hope so.” Pinkie stepped up beside him.

He glanced at her, and then did a double-take. He put the phone down. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to need to ask you a few questions.”

Comments

[Reese]

...So, now I find myself wondering: exactly how many guns does Granny Pie keep in the house? Because it now feels like it might come up.
I enjoyed the chapter. :)

[Dorath]

The pale girl, who seemed to have more fashion sense than the other two, was named Sweetie Belle. The lean, tanned one was Scootaloo. Apple Bloom was the redhead with a trace of a country accent.

And the CMC appear

crystal molly

Damn, so Sombra either has people or subcontractors in Dashville ... Twilight and Flurry aren't as safe as they think they are

[Genial Precis]

I do appreciate that Pinky is swimming in dangerous waters but consistently trying for an outcome where the people she likes are happy and no one gets hurt.

[PresentPerfect]

Hang on, Party Cannon is a real band, I get that reference! Did that actually happen to them? :O

My Maserati does 185.

Does she keep the windows up in case she's attacked? :V