• Published 8th Oct 2020
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Pinkie and the Mysterious Time Doughnut - Feech



Pinkie Pie lives the same day over and over and over. . .

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Chapter Two: A Well-Floured Machine

The table in the booth at Hayburger was piled high with triple stacks of triple hayburgers with cheese, beans-and-oats burgers with pickles, and deep-fried spicy walnuts.

Rarity gesticulated with a fry on the tip of her hoof. "There are three shows the very first day of Canterlot Fashion Week. I really must put in appearances to support other designers whenever I can. Then a street dance and reception the first night, models will be mingling. Four more shows the next day, and another reception, because the visiting giraffe designers will be arriving that day."

"I admire them so much," said Pinkie. "They're so spotty."

"And they make it work with stripes! At any rate, then we all model at Guess the Designer, where we swap ensembles with each other and the audience tries to guess who designed each outfit. Right away the next afternoon I do the collaborative show with Superior Buttons. Superior's work is far superior to any other pony designer's."

"So it's not just a clever name," said Pinkie.

Rarity gave a wan smile. Her normally brilliant white coat looked merely pale. "It's simply devastating that the solo Rarity for You show will be later in the week. The comparison to the blended work with Superior will surely not be kind. It's a brutal schedule, inequine, even if you're only a designer, but I also need to be at the boutique as much as possible. We're going to put on that most sadistic of inventions, an in-season show. We're hanging the new line of dresses on the racks when the Rarity for You show opens, not a second later and not a moment sooner."

Pinkie put a hoof to her chin. "It's not just the projects and stress. Not only normal Rarity flusterededness. There's still something else off. I can't put my hoof on it. But we'll figure it out."

Rarity said, "You're trying to help, darling, and I appreciate that. But I don't see as there's anything to be done about an indefinable something about myself, darling."

"One too many 'darling's," said Pinkie absently.

Rarity's cheeks flushed a light green. "Sorry, darling. Er, I mean—"

"The 'darlings' aren't the real issue," Pinkie Pie assured her. "But there's been something kinda off about your Rarityness."

"Three days," said Rarity. "Three days! I can't possibly be ready in time."

"You'll be as ready as you're gonna get when it starts," said Pinkie.

"I almost made a bug—big mistake in front of the press the other day, but Fancy Pants drew attention away from me, and I was able to save it."

"Good for Fancy Pants," said Pinkie. "You need to relax and have fun. You can't be your best self if you're not having fun."

"I'm trying," said Rarity, a little whine in her voice. She swirled the hay fry in golden sweet mustard sauce. "My best self has to be perfect. That's not precisely conducive to enjoyment and relaxation."

"I love sweet mustard sauce," said Pinkie. "I didn't know you liked it."

"Oh—I don't. I mean I didn't." Rarity glanced around as if somepony besides Pinkie might catch her at the sin of putting a hay fry covered in sweet mustard sauce in her mouth. She removed the fry before her teeth could close on it, and aimed it at the little cup of ketchup on the tray.

"That's a good idea!" said Pinkie. "I'll mix ketchup and sweet mustard too! Mmm, delicious," she said around four hay fries at once. "I didn't know you liked ketchup, either. You usually take your hay fries with salt and vinaigrette."

"Oh. I'm—I'm sorry about that. Of course you would know, darling, it's just that I—er—when I'm under stress I prefer ketchup?"

"Don't look so scared. Remember to smile!"

Rarity tremulously broke into a grin.

"That's a grin, silly. I mean smile. You don't need to grin wide like me."

Rarity put her head in her hooves and wailed, "Oh, Pinkie, I'll never make it the entire Fashion Week!"

"Yes, you will." Pinkie got out of the booth, went to stand beside Rarity, and put a hoof on her shoulder. "You will make it through. You are Rarity! There is only one of you."

"But I'm—"

"Shh! You are Rarity. Repeat after me: I am Rarity. There is only one of me."

"I am Rarity. There is only one of me."

Pinkie nodded approvingly and went back to her seat.

Before Rarity and Pinkie finished supper, raindrops were splattering on the Hayburger windows, and by the time Pinkie went outside, it was pouring. Pinkie splashed homeward through the puddles.

She had bought the same toothbrush over again, which was a new experience—getting to purchase the same thing brand new twice in a row. That night she put it in the toothbrush holder. She used her old toothbrush for the last time for the second time, saluted it gratefully, and threw it into the trash can.

The next morning her old toothbrush was the only toothbrush to be found.

The same day passed, and passed again, and again. Twilight checked over each batch of party supplies that Pinkie dutifully hauled to the library.

Pinkie made a point of memorizing each order she filled in the morning before Cinnamon Caramel Streusel Crunch Swirl came in with her boxes of mistake-flavored cupcakes. At night, just before bed, Pinkie went over the list to keep it fresh in her mind.

She got up at four as she normally did—the time spell, whatever it was, kept to her usual schedule. Her old toothbrush was in the holder. Pinkie Pie brushed her mane, put her cheerfulness in order, and neatly avoided the jelly bean on the step. She had her breakfast, fed Gummy again, and was in the kitchen by five.

Pinkie Pie slit her eyes at the kitchen shelves. She considered herself efficient and fast, and though Mr. Cake was not as quick, he was methodical and neat, so the Sugarcube Corner kitchen ran like a well-floured machine. Could Pinkie Pie make it faster and still turn out delicious delicacies to rival those of any other bakery in the history of Equestria? The answer, of course, was yes. The question was how.

Pinkie and the Cakes had years of experience in running a bakery, but that had been built on tradition combined with trial and error, until they had learned how to best work together. Now Pinkie had one day, over and over and over. She didn't have any way of preparing ahead of time. What she did have was the knowledge of the mistake she had made, and what time Streusel would be arriving to ask to have it corrected. Pinkie Pie couldn't prevent the mistake; it had been made the day before, and she had never been back to that time again. There was only this morning, and Pinkie was going to see to it that sometime, eventually, on this one morning, no other bakery customer in the history of Equestria, the planet, and neighboring planets would ever have been so abundantly compensated for their mixed-up order. Pinkie couldn't make progress from day to day, but she could experiment. She could whip up a little something as a do-for-now, to use every this-morning until she could figure out better ways to add to it.

Several big tubs in the dry-ingredients corner contained the Cakes' proprietary mixes for plain muffins as well as vanilla, lemon, spice, and chocolate cake flavor bases. Pinkie would stick with these tried and true mixes and not measure anything new or different. A few inches' less reach to the canisters for her flour-measuring hoof was all it took to shave seconds off of a cake batter. She took a moment to move the tubs and set the mixing table directly between them and the icebox, thereby saving a bit of time on each thing she would bake that day.

While Pinkie got to work, Mrs. Cake washed the family's breakfast dishes, swept the front steps of Sugarcube Corner, and whipped a large bowlful of cream to use as topping throughout the day. Mr. Cake put bread dough in the ovens, washed the empty proofing pans, and fried and glazed doughnuts. Pinkie zipped around him, barely dodging out of his way back and forth on her personal mission.

Normally any cake left over at closing the night before was left out for Pinkie to devour at breakfast. Baked goods didn't go stale at Sugarcube Corner. But this morning Pinkie exercised massive amounts of restraint, her light pink coat turning dark pink from sweat under her forelock, and she did not eat the day-old sponge cake. She had saved moments by cracking three extra eggs when she made Gummy's breakfast. Now she heated cream and sugar and whipped up some custard.

Pinkie couldn't give away all the breakfast rush muffins and scones, nor all the lunchtime focaccia nor teatime coffeecakes. She had to make something new for Cinnamon Caramel Streusel Crunch Swirl. One thing Pinkie Pie was good at was decorating cakes in a hurry without the end result looking rushed. She rebaked a cake meant for an afternoon order and decorated the one she had standing ready from last night. The fresh cake could cool until she frosted it just in time for the afternoon pick-up. This morning she could give Cinnamon Caramel Streusel Crunch Swirl yesterday's cake, freshly buttercreamed and boxed.

Mr. Cake flipped the bakery sign over to OPEN.

Before Streusel arrived each morning with the wrong cupcakes, four other ponies came in and ordered goods. One asked for two peach pies to be picked up at closing time; Pinkie set that aside to make later. The other three orders she had memorized. Croissant and a cherry cola. Pinkie's hoof was on the cherry syrup dispenser before the customer finished speaking. Butterscotch malt with whipped cream and sprinkles. "Yum!" And done before the mare who wanted it had opened her mouth to order. The next pony was still surveying the goods in the display case when Pinkie picked out a slice of cherry-chip torte and slid it across the counter to him, much to his evident delight.

Pinkie left the counter to Mr. Cake and dashed back into the kitchen. The custard was cool; she poured it over sliced sponge cake, used a dollop of the daily whipped cream on top, and met Streusel at the door, breathless, with a hoofful of animal lollipops.

Streusel's spontaneous "Ooh, I love trifle!" when Pinkie hoofed over the bowl gave the pink pony a surge of triumphant feeling that would suffice until she improved her technique. Streusel's make-up order was going to be magnificent, one of these days. Meanwhile, it was time for Pinkie to return the usual pile of library books to Twilight.

On the way to the library, she passed a little colt going in the other direction, spinning a hoop on the ground with a stick held in his mouth. He almost lost his hoop's balance when it wobbled in a wheel rut, but he deftly righted it. Pinkie called out, as she did most days: "Excellent hoop-rolling!"

The colt ran on after the hoop, and the stick in his mouth made talking difficult, but he collected his run into a canter and gave a pleased flip of his tail which showed Pinkie Pie that he'd heard her.

Pinkie went on into the library. Twilight said, "Hi, Pinkie!"

"Twilight! Drop the books and listen."

Twilight laid her open book on a bookstand, kept her place with a hoof, turned her head and perked her ears in Pinkie's direction.

Pinkie took a long breath and began. "Tomorrow will be your future, but it will be my today."

She told the story of what had happened to her so far on previous iterations of this same day. Pinkie Pie did this every morning, and the words had gotten to be really close together. By now they had hardly any spaces between them at all, in order to get the story told before it was time to leave for Sweet Apple Acres. "And I feed Gummy every day even though Fluttershy said it's healthier for him to be fed every other day, because every day is the other day to him, now. You've been looking—and right now you're about to start looking—for an artifact, something that magicked me into this wackiness. You've checked everything I bought yesterday—that is, real yesterday—that hasn't been used up. That took several yestertodays. So now I need to know what you think I should do next. Did you get all that?"

Twilight's ears quivered with how hard she was keeping them pricked in Pinkie's direction. "Got it."

"Thanks, Twilight, I knew you wouldn't let me down!"

"It sounds as if we should begin focusing on variables you can change one at a time."

"I left you out as a variable some days, already," Pinkie said. "I haven't seen you at all some days. I missed you!"

"Aw, that's sweet," said Twilight. "I'm sure I missed you, too."

"Thanks!"

"Wait—does this mean—er . . . I don't want to seem too obsessive, but those books were due today. I know your eliminating me as a variable is important, and that not bringing the books in was for science. . ."

"Don't worry, I return them to you most todays!"

"I hope that—"

"And on the few days when I stayed away from the library, I had one of the foals playing outside bring the books in for me."

"Why, thank you, Pinkie."

"You're welcome, Twilight! Also, I have something new. I forgot about the toothbrush. I bought a toothbrush and you said anything new I should test."

"Have you used the toothbrush?"

"Nope! I buy it this afternoon. I don't use it until tomorrow morning, but I've never been there!"

"Okay, don't change—"

"Too many variables," finished Pinkie.

"Right. Just pick a different color of toothbrush, or buy one somewhere other than the store where you've been getting it. The thing with artifacts is, it might only be that one toothbrush, or something might have magically affected all the toothbrushes from a specific supply."


Day after day, Pinkie bought toothbrushes of all colors and softness levels at the drugstore and at the dry goods store. She also changed her toothbrush holder to a cute one that looked like a spiraled candy stick.

When she'd finished changing minor variables about the toothbrush, she reported to Twilight, cramming in the whole story from the beginning and adding each of the places she'd acquired toothbrushes.

"To try another variable, I avoided buying a toothbrush, even though that's really hard. Do you know how hard it is not to buy a new toothbrush at the five-and-bit store, when you were really looking forward to it? Argh, it was too hard! But after a few days of practicing I managed not to buy one, and then I was walking and Minuette came out and offered me a free sample toothbrush! I couldn't say no to that! It would have been rude, orally unhygienic, and sad. So it took me a few weeks to figure out how to arrange it so I wouldn't see Minuette today—that mare really gets around, and she really likes to give out toothbrushes. I'm finally out of new places to get toothbrushes."

"Wait a minute." Twilight went to her bathroom and returned with a shiny new purple toothbrush. "You can have my spare."

"Thanks!"

"Unfortunately, if this doesn't work, we have to widen our net, and we have to make it extremely wide," said Twilight. "Now we need to address those objects which you have around you all the time, but which you only treated differently today. Objects you bought today were easiest to pin down. And it sounds as if you've pretty well stuck to the same schedule on each loop."

"Doughnut," Pinkie said.

"Doughnut?"

"Doughnut, the round kind, circular, not the twisty Long John kind. I've decided to call the time loop a time doughnut. If there's a filling it goes around the hole in the center, not in the middle. I thought of calling it a time hoop, like a fun toy, but time doughnut won out because the word always makes me think of soft, chewy, sweet dough, plus sprinkles, while the hoop makes me think of running and fun, but not sprinkles."

"Doughnut, then. So the question now is: Did you make or do something differently today, using something you've had around for a while?"

"I'll investigate! Thanks for all your help so far, which has been a lot, even though you don't remember it."

"You're welcome," said Twilight. "I hope it works out. Even if all of us don't experience the repeating days with you, I'm sure we need you looped back in with us."

"Doughnutted back in!"

"Yes . . . doughnutted back in."


At home, at bedtime, Pinkie regarded the purple toothbrush as she tilted it back and forth on the edge of her hoof. Gummy chomped on a squeaky toy underneath the sink. Pinkie asked the baby alligator, "What do you think? If I drop this last toothbrush into the holder, is this day going to be over?"

Gummy chomped his toy. The toy squeaked, once, twice, three times.

Pinkie hovered her hoof, and finally dropped the toothbrush into the holder. She watched it sit there. She sat on her haunches and watched it some more. Slowly she stood and backed away with her eyes on the toothbrush, and went to bed.

Pinkie woke up the next morning—that is, the same morning as the morning before, so she woke up the morning before, again, and picked Gummy up from under his corner of patchwork quilt. "Let's go see." She perched Gummy on her head and went to the washstand. The old, splayed, spongy toothbrush was back in the holder. Pinkie stared at it for a minute, then took a long breath that ended in a soft little sigh. She took Gummy off of her head, gave him a soft cuddle, and put him in his tank. "I didn't really think it would work," she said. "Well, time to go see if the jelly bean is there."

Sure enough, there it was on the top step. Later in the morning, when she went to the library, Pinkie took the jelly bean with her.

Twilight said, "There must be a lot of jelly beans in your day."

"This one was on the stairs. I must have dropped it. But the first time I saw it there was this morning, I mean every morning now, so possibly it got there magically and I didn't drop it after all."

"I need to examine this jelly bean."

Pinkie hoofed it over. "It's kinda sticky. I licked it once. Always the same flavor—strawberry."

Twilight peered at the jelly bean through a magnifying glass, cut it open carefully with a knife, and used various magic-testing instruments on it. Finally she stretched her stiff neck. "There's nothing magical about this jelly bean."

"Split it with you!" said Pinkie, and she grabbed one of the neat halves and chewed it.

Twilight smirked, but she bit into the other half, brightened and mmmed.

"There's one thing magical about it," said Pinkie. "The flavor!"

"It is pretty good," said Twilight, "but it's still just a jelly bean. Not the artifact we're looking for. Sorry, Pinkie."

Pinkie bounced in place. "Don't feel bad, Twilight. You're doing your best. Just like you always do!"

"We'll keep at it," said Twilight. "Well—you will, and the me who's here today, tomorrow. Tomorrow-tomorrow, I'll have moved on from this, and if you're living the same loop over and over, I don't know whether you'll know what I'm talking about if I bring it up to you in my own tomorrow. Or, I won't even remember it myself, if it's a closed loop."

"Doughnut," said Pinkie.

"Closed doughnut," Twilight amended agreeably but absently, adjusting dials on her telescope.


After her visit to Sweet Apple Acres, during her quick lunch of a lower-case cheese sandwich, Pinkie squinted in thought over the approaching meeting with Cheese Sandwich. She reflected on the previous day of the time doughnut, and the most recent iteration of the daily shouting match. She swallowed a bite of sandwich and said to herself, "Who knew a stallion could be so sensitive about serving Limburger with angel food cake? Well, I won't bring that up again. Still, I suppose an argument can't happen every day. Even though it has so far. Of course, it's not every day, it's only one day. It's just that it's every day to me, Pinkie Pie."

At the Elks Lodge, Cheese Sandwich objected to Pinkie Pie's choice of cheese to combine with strawberry shortcake. "Now, Pinkie, you know that's not a good flavor marriage. Anyway, we want to use the Aged Swiss as grilled cheese on Rye to go with the onion broth."

"Strawberry shortcake can marry whatever cheese it wants to marry," asserted Pinkie Pie.

"Pinkie, be reasonable. Aged Swiss is already seeing Rye."

"Strawberry shortcake is open-minded! It's willing to share!"

Before Pinkie Pie knew it, she and Cheese Sandwich were shouting at each other. She wasn't even sure how she had managed it this time.