Roight, wot's all 'dis 'den?

by -Watcher-

Chapter 3 - Strange Mornings

Pinkie Pie was confused.

It was eight in the morning, and Sugar Cube Corner was filled with the sights and smells of all sorts of treats and drinks and just all around tasty goodness. Each item brought with it a distinct, enticing scent that wafted throughout the main dining hall of the restaurant and bakery, working to rouse sleepy customers in time for the workday.

The warm summer sun shone through the windows of Sugar Cube Corner, basking the dining hall in a glorious amber light that did wonders for drowsiness. Though it was often a little bright for Pinkie’s tastes, she found it welcoming and warming all the same.

All of these things were completely normal, so Pinkie doubted it was this that was confusing to her.

She had triple-checked the breakfast goods to make sure nothing was wrong with them. Once more, she concluded that this brought no source of the unease that troubled her.

The furniture, windows, and even the shingles on the roof were all inspected carefully by the eccentric pink pony, only to find that nothing about the air or building quelled her growing unease. As such, the party crazy pony reasoned, it wasn’t something that was bothering her. No, the only explanation was that someone was bothering her, which only worked to confuse the poor mare even more.

Pinkie Pie loved ponies. And not just ponies; she loved everyone, be they yaks, griffons, minotaurs (when they weren’t magic-eating meanies), or changelings. There was simply no reason anyone should be bothering her this much, especially since there was only one other in the dining hall with her.

In a booth near the front of the hall sat a single man. This man was dressed in a fancy black outfit that Pinkie didn’t recognize, and he took short, quick sips of his beverage of choice—earl grey with a generous amount of milk and sugar. Pinkie wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but the way he held his tea made her think he valued it more than life itself. It was like he used the drink for support, for a way to ground himself. He held the cup with both hands as if he was afraid to drop it at any moment. Each time he raised it to his lips, he closed his eyes slowly, seemingly basking in the swirl of flavors between his hands. Pinkie imagined each drink would stir a content sigh from the man before he returned the mug to the tabletop and cast his eyes out the window to watch the world outside. This cycle repeated over and over again.

This, by itself, would never even be noticed by Pinkie Pie. Many of her customers went through the same process every day with coffee or tea or many other kinds of drinks. It was such a common occurrence that it was all but ignored by Pinkie most days. This . . . this was not most days.

For one, the man had been doing this ritual for over half-an-hour now. Even from her perch at the counter, Pinkie could tell the man had long since run out of his tea. Even still, the man continued to “sip” on his nonexistent tea.

Another thing that bothered Pinkie was that she recognized the man. It was Anon, and if Pinkie knew anything about Anon, it was that the man despised tea. Though not a fan of it herself, Pinkie never even considered saying half of the things Anon said about tea. Among the most confusing to Pinkie had been, “It’s just ground-up leaves and dirt with boiling water,” and Pinkie had found that strange. Anon was a big fan of coffee, and that was just as similar to “leaves and dirt.” Anon even called it “dirty bean juice,” which made Pinkie dislike coffee even more than she already had. So, to see Anon so infatuated with what Pinkie assumed to be his nemesis was confusing to her.

Yet another thing was how he spoke. Pinkie Pie prided herself on being able to read and understand people better than most could. It was something that had helped in many many times in her line of work, and she had yet to meet someone she failed to understand or communicate reasonably with (animals didn’t count, that was Fluttershy’s thing). That was until this morning when Anon walked in calling her “mum” and asking for whatever the heck “black pudding” was.

Pinkie Pie wasn’t a mom, at least she didn’t think she was. She had immediately thought of every possible scenario that would have led to her being a mom without her knowledge and came up with nothing. That comment alone sent her into a moment of panic that she barely was able to brush off as tiredness when Anon asked her why she was staring at him.

That didn’t even factor in the blank that she drew when he started asking for dyed pudding. Who the heck would dye pudding black? Maybe he meant chocolate pudding? Who has chocolate pudding for breakfast? Thankfully, he was satisfied with the tea and left to sit alone, but Pinkie was still recovering from the mental onslaught that she had endured in the span of two minutes.

None of this was what had her worried, though. She had endured way worse with her friends and their exploits around Equestria to be truly bothered by confusing lingo and strange ways of talking. It was when Anon wasn’t drinking his not-tea that worried Pinkie. Every time he lowered the mug and looked out the window, Pinkie felt her tummy shift, her eyes twitch, and her mane sniffle.

Pinkie had no idea what that meant, but she felt that it was really, really important to whatever was going on with her friend.

Anon didn’t drink tea, he didn’t dress all fancy, he didn’t call people mom, and he most certainly didn’t eat pudding that was dyed black! No one does that! This whole thing made no sense to Pinkie Pie, and she was really good at making sense of no sense making things.

Pinkie hadn’t moved a muscle in the forty-five minutes it had been since Anon sat down. No other customers had arrived, leaving Pinkie free to stare at her friend and worry. There was an emptiness in his eyes every time he looked out that window that made Pinkie’s tummy turn and kept her rooted in place. For some reason, Pinkie had a strange instinct that told her not to approach him.

And so, she sat at the register across the room from Anon and stared intently at him, beads of sweat slowly rolling down the side of her face.

Pinkie’s first movement was the twitching of her ears as Anon turned to grab his fancy hat. He rose from his seat and smiled brightly toward Pinkie as he placed the fancy hat on his head.

“Thanks fer the tea, mum. Smashin’ stuff, that. ‘Ave a good one, mum. Cheers!” he said as he placed something on the table next to his mug and strode through the doors to Sugar Cube Corner.

For the first time in almost an hour, Pinkie allowed herself to relax and exhale a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. She chastised herself for not at least saying goodbye. For shame, Pinkie, for shame, she said inwardly and vowed to make it up to him later.

Pinkie Pie absently grabbed a cloth from underneath the counter and moved to clean Anon’s table. As she reached the table, she found three strange-looking bits next to the mug. Well, Pinkie assumed they were bits, but she had never seen one quite like these before. They weren’t as heavy as normal bits, and they had a silvery center. A strange image of the head of someone that looked like Anon with a crown was minted in the center along with the words “one pound.”

It was then a familiar unicorn burst through the doors, startling Pinkie Pie before she could be confused again.

“Pinkie! I’m glad you’re here,” the unicorn almost screamed, gasping for breath. “Bon Bon is making me go around and check if things are going well with the whole wedding business because she isn’t feeling well,” the new pony said excitedly. “Obviously, I thought it would be most appropriate to check on the most important part first: the CAKE!”

Pinkie simply stared at the unicorn for a few moments before her eyes lit up as she remembered. “Lyra, you silly filly, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Pinkie said, feigning disapproval and giggling, “But I’ll forgive you since you know that CAKE is the most important feature of any party, even a wedding.” That made Lyra smirk and roll her eyes. “Come on back, I’ll show you what I was thinking!”

And with that, Pinkie bounced across the floor as she led Lyra to the kitchen, completely forgetting about the strange morning she had just experienced.

Author's Note:

A little short, but I found this one funny to write.

Comments

[Amnesiac 12]

Whu... what the fuck just happened in this chapter?

[-Watcher-]

10595001
i.redd.it/4nxc6eljq4p51.png

Strange mornings are strange.

[hamster wizard]

10595001
Pinkie watched a man drink tea for 2/3 of an hour.

[King Kenya]

Well done. Sadly sugarcube corner isn’t a greasy spoon. There’s nothing quite like breadcrumbs and suet in a medium of pigs blood. It is an official superfood after all.

[Gale Maze]

10595066
Well I politely disagree on the grounds that every time I hear a song by Henry Enfield when I leave my phone on shuffle, I run away screaming

[Mr Bob]

I love that you say he said "Mum" and then write pinkie thinking mom brillant little thing

[PrinceOfDarkness]

10595011
Also, I'm British and this is pretty much how us boys from Birmingham act and talk.

And it's a good representation of some of us.

And it's funny.

keep writin the story ya little wanka.

[PrinceOfDarkness]

10595001
Oi, don't disrespect the British.

Pack it in you little shit.

I'm British myself.