An Ordinary Story

by Steady Gaze

Chapter 1: Pinkie Pie’s Gruel Fate

Or, Between a Rock and a Hardtack Place

In Sugarcube Corner, a stuffy voice rang out, “I have orders, duly authorized by the Princess herself, to requisition from this establishment all baking ingredients, heating appliances, utensils, and other articles used in the preparation of—”

Twilight Sparkle cringed.

She’d decided to come here herself from Canterlot, the capital of Equestria and her seat of power, to soften the blow to Pinkie Pie, one of her first true friends. It certainly wasn’t her style as a ruler, much less as a friend, to make her subordinates have all her difficult conversations for her. That still didn’t stop her from putting off this visit, making it one of the last ones on their route before moving on to Horsefield.

She’d arrived at the bakery and exchanged the usual pleasantries, which involved no small amount of confetti. (Twilight briefly lamented that Pinkie seeing her, at least in Ponyville, was now a special occasion.) Of course, then she’d fallen silent to think, yet again, of how best to break the news to Pinkie. Too long, in fact, because it had given that crusty administrator the chance to buck away all the gentle, less direct approaches that she’d carefully prepared.

Pinkie’s eyes had grown wide as a grin crept across her face, obviously not listening to the rest of the administrator’s remarks.

“Ms. Pie, do you have something to say?” the stallion official spat officiously.

“This sounds an awful lot like a party…and not just any party, a PRINCESS-LEVEL PARTY!” she said, spreading her hooves amidst another burst of confetti.

Twilight interrupted to salvage the situation while the official was processing the sudden appearance of confetti before he (who was it… Weighty Scales?) could give her friend a decidedly uncharitable clarification (and tonal whiplash). “Pinkie… Mr. Scales… you see, we need to use all your baking supplies for the good of Equestria.” Heading off Pinkie’s next remark, she continued, “And not in your usual way, by throwing an amazing party. There’s been a disaster in Puffington, and we need to make sure there’s enough food for everypony.”

Weighty Scales, regaining his composure, tut-tutted, “That’s quite right, Your Majesty. A catastrophic mixup in the Cloudsdale weather factory has downright submerged the entire region. We’ve gathered the displaced ponies to refugee camps until the crisis can be addressed. In the meantime, they require emergency food and medical—”

Pinkie Pie saluted. “Two thousand three hundred and twelve oat & honey cookies, coming right up!” Twilight didn’t doubt the accuracy of that figure, knowing Pinkie Pie’s freakishly thorough filing system.

Sadly, that wasn’t the half of it. Weighty Scales followed up, "Ms. Pie, you haven’t heard the full decree! We simply can’t accept oat & honey coo—”

“Oatmeal cookies?”

“No, Ms. P—”

“Chocolate chip?”

“N—”

“Oooooh, I love guessing games! Oatmeal raisin? Pistachio? Caramel? Gingerbread? Sugar?” Weighty Scales could only shake his head as fast as he could.

Pinkie’s eyes widened in excitement as her voice rose in pitch, “Oh… but what if we don’t need cookies… What if we need cupcakes, like strawberry, merengue, key lime pie, or… JALAPEÑO… RED… VELVET CAKE???”

Weighty Scales’s left eyelid twitched erratically as he took cover in front of the counter with his hooves covering his ears, his mind clearly short circuiting after the rapid-fire monologue followed by the incomprehensible combination of jalapeño with anything sweet. At least Twilight could count on the fact that the “party pony” was the bureaucrat pony’s biggest weakness.

Pinkie’s eyes were still gleaming at the mention of her favorite cupcake flavor, if it was even possible for her to settle on one (Starlight Glimmer had mentioned that factoid as part of some tale of Pinkie’s antics). With Weighty Scales down for the count and Pinkie Pie drawing ragged breaths before continuing into the epic-length list of cupcake flavors she knew of, it seemed the only option was to bite the speartip.

“GRUEL! You have to make GRUEL!”

Twilight stopped to wonder if Pinkie even knew what gruel was, but Pinkie’s stunned pause followed by her suddenly enlarged and glistening eyes told her all she needed to know.

“G-g-g-gruel? I h-haven’t m-m-made g-g-gruel since I g-g-got my c-cutie m-mark,” Pinkie stammered, barely whispering towards the end. She gulped and took a breath, and Twilight was conscientious enough to let her collect herself. “I drink rock soup once a year, but that’s a Hearth’s Warming tradition. Ever since I found out I was a party pony, I decided I’d never, ever, eeeeever make food that makes me frown.”

Twilight allowed room for a careful pause. “Pinkie, I came here myself because I knew this would be so incredibly hard for you,” she started, her eyes beginning to sting and threaten sympathetic tears. “I had a long chat with Spike and my other advisors about this, along with several ponies whose special talents involved numbers and measurement. There are so many ponies who need food right away, not to mention the rations for the armies of pegasi needed to fix all this. The only way to feed them all within a safe margin is packaged… gruel.” Twilight was about to launch into a discussion of how hardtack was also an option, and then of the pros and cons of each, but she’d learned by now that such an emotional moment wasn’t the time to prattle on about less important information.

Pinkie Pie said nothing, only meeting Twilight’s gaze. After another moment, she cracked a small smile, and Twilight felt the intimate warmth of Pinkie’s absolute trust, and moments later, the waterworks. Friendship is magic.

Pinkie hugged Twilight and remarked, “You can’t smile if you’re gone. E-everything’s fun the first time at least… even a gruel party.”

They unhugged and wiped their tears away. Twilight realized there were more instructions, but Weighty Scales was out of action. She levitated the relevant scroll out of his saddlebags, set it on the counter, and said, “I think you’ve got this. We’ve got to catch up with the rest of the bakeries in the region, and get Mr. Scales to someplace where he can recuperate.” Touching him, they both disappeared in the distinctive pop-and-flash of teleportation magic.

Pinkie Pie skimmed the rest of the scroll. The decree said she and the other bakery staff were being “impressed”, but Mr. Scales hadn’t done anything all that flashy besides entering a catatonic state. Suddenly, Pinkie Pie’s neck swiveled and swooshed erratically. With both hooves stretched wide, she grabbed the two edges of my mind’s eye’s field of vision and pulled her face in close. Oh horseapples! Oh sweet Celestia!

“YOU DISGUST ME, STRANGE WRITER-MAN!!! THINK OF THE POOR PONIES OF PUFFINGTON!”

Dammit, we were doing so well! She’s on to me! “Y-you see, it’s for the story, a-and—”

“BUT THAT ISN’T THE HALF OF IT! YOU MADE PINKIE PIE MAKE GRUEL???”

“W-well, t-t-technically you haven’t made any y-yet?”

No sooner had I spoken, Pinkie’s arms commenced a blur of opening, pouring, mixing, and oven-dial-turning. Was she still grabbing the “camera”? If not, perhaps I could “unload” Sugarcube Corner, fly to Canterlot and check out the rebuilt royal palace, or maybe—drat. It was another one of Pinkie’s abilities—the ability to use more hooves than she physically had, so long as her body was obscured. Was it time for drastic measures?

“DON’T TRY TO DISTRACT ME!” Pinkie Pie gave the mind’s eye camera her best pout/scowl combo. Ugh, keep it together! I took a moment to collect myself. I am the all-powerful author… I am the all-powerful author… aha! I’d fight meta with meta!

“Pinkie, you know I can dematerialize you with a thought, even if it makes no narrative sense? I guess we writers don’t talk about it that often, but…”

“Dema… dema… huh?”

“Make you go poof. Disappear you. Make you vanish into thin air, for no reason at all.” Now for the big reveal, the gut punch. “You wouldn’t even remember… if I’d done it to you before… and I could go farther this time. Write you out of the story entirely… make everyone you know forget that you ever even existed.”

Pinkie’s arms suddenly stopped mid-open, -pour, -mix, and -oven-dial-turn. “O-oh…” Pinkie said softly. Being threatened with dematerialization has the odd effect of reminding you of your mortality, though it’s definitely pretty weird to tell a character in your own story about it. “Can you at least help with the disaster in Puffington? Please?” Agh, no, not the puppy-dog eyes! “I’ll make you… cupcakes?”

“Pinkie, I created that disaster for… narrative reasons. You wouldn’t understand, being a character in this story yourself. Also, I can’t actually eat any cupcakes you make… I can only imagine eating them. And I can do that whenever I want, without your help. See?” I bit down on a newly materialized dark brown chocolate cupcake, through the thin sugary glaze. I hit a gooey fudge pocket, smearing it onto my tongue and drinking in its nauseating sweetness. I chuckled, “Taste is actually pretty difficult to put into writing.”

“You remind me of Discord, but without the delicious chocolate rain… and are you sure fudge is nauseating?” Gaining some confidence at not being dematerialized on the spot and attempting to retain a shred of dignity, Pinkie scowled again and said, “I’ll let you fly away this time, but you’re on thin ice, mister!” Pinkie Pie was an expert ice-skater with all the work she did skating every year for Winter Wrap-Up, so I didn’t doubt her choice of metaphor.

“Ok Pinkie, I’ll be on my best behavior… but don’t forget what we’ve talked about…”

Pinkie released the mind’s eye camera and continued working on the gruel, but at a more natural pace this time, with just her materially-distinct forehooves. I didn’t blame her for suddenly being in a contemplative mood after what I’d said. Not wanting to linger any longer, I flew up and away, until Sugarcube Corner was just one building among many, until Ponyville was just one hamlet among many, until the planet Equus was just one speck among many.

Author's Note:

There’s a somewhat awkward transition from Pinkie Pie making gruel to her making hardtack, which is far more practical to store and transport, due to the association of gruel with austerity being more widely known than that of hardtack… and also because I couldn’t resist the pun in the chapter title.