Three Little Words
“Snrk!”
Pinkie’s eyes shot open as something very soft but very tickly invaded her nose. They closed again as she sneezed, springing to her hooves with a squeak and a quiet clip-clop on the wooden floor. A couple more rushes of air flew out of her nostrils, briefly leaving a white haze to cloud in front of her before it slowly floated downwards and out of sight.
She lazily blinked a few more times and smacked her lips, running her tongue along the little strands of fur that seemed to coat her teeth and mouth.
“Ooh, wowee! What a night that was!” she said as the last tethers of sleep finally lost their hold. “I have so gotta ask Applejack to bring that stuff more often!”
Her face stretched into its customary, massive grin, and her blue eyes danced with little twinkles as memories of the night before fought for space inside her head.
Every so often, Ponyville would run through a dry spell of exciting things going on. There was nothing wrong with this, and many ponies appreciated that the supposedly quiet little town could be just that—for a little while at least. But for Ponyville’s premier party planner and grand-mistress of games, goofs and giggles, a lack of things to celebrate meant only one thing: no parties to celebrate those things!
That couldn’t happen. Or at least Pinkie would never allow that to happen on her watch. Thus her patented “There’s nothing to celebrate for the moment so lets just have a bash to keep things all lively and fun!” Party had been born.
Last night had been the two week anniversary of Applejack’s return from Dodge Junction. With another week and a half to wait for the beginning of Cider Season and the sure arrival of some new ponies to party with, Pinkie had chosen that evening to act.
She and Gummy had passed out invitations to her bestest-best friends, this time with an abridged version of her song. She had coated almost every inch of her room with streamers and glittery confetti and posters and sashes and banners and every piece of party paraphernalia that she could lay her little hoovsies on. But all of that fun was bound to work up a humongous hunger, so she completed the picture with a table heaving, creaking, groaning under a mountain of smoothies and sundaes and Simnel cakes—whatever they were—and suckers and sweeties and sarsaparilla!
But there wasn’t any cider.
Sadly, it was still a week until Cider Season. It hadn’t been what Pinkie would have called a damper on her mood, and she had still easily worn her biggest beam as she had brought her friends up to her bedroom, but some of the good, sweet, potent brown gold would have made an already perfect party even more perfectly-perfect!
Good thing Applejack had piped up just before they began the bash.
“Listen, y’all…” said an Applejack in her head, “Ah just want t’apologise again fer what happened back at Dodge…”
“Ah, don’t worry about it, AJ!” said Dashie’s voice.
“She’s right, Applejack,” said a Twilight. “We understand how awful it feels to let someone down… even when you haven‘t!”
She heard all six of them chuckling.
“Ah know, and I rightly appreciate that. But Ah still put y’all through a lotta worry, so…” Pinkie saw the Applejack in her eyes reach back to fish through her saddlebags.
“… Ah wanted t’make it up to y’all with somethin’ Braeburn sent me.”
Applejack held in her grinning mouth the strap of a small, burlap pouch, which swung beneath her chin. Pinkie remembered her eyes following the motion and picking out the word on the side.
Salt.
Now, her baby-blues swept across the room with little snippets of the party swimming across her mind’s eye. She saw the sheets and sashes all tangled up in the middle of the room with a dent in the middle like a bird’s nest, summoning the hours the six of them had spent dancing to a stream of show-tunes, their hooves getting more and more silly and their singing more and more slurred as the minutes merrily ticked by.
She caught sight of the broken mass of cardboard in the corner, with all colours of crepe paper crowding around it, conjuring the several seconds it had taken to reduce a once proud piñata into a cloud of yet more confetti and send a torrent of treats tumbling to the floor. The corners of Pinkie’s grin descended for a moment. She’d liked Poco. It would only be right to dispose of his remains with dignity.
Her maximum capacity of smiles returned moments later as she spotted the small circle of soft cushions, bringing forth the time they had spent lounging on the little pieces of plushy-ness and swapping stories before they swerved into a game of truth or dare. Fluttershy’s already-flushed cheeks going even darker, and her curling up into a ball as Dashie loudly told her to spill her most secret of secrets. Rainbow and Applejack’s glasses jittering all over the place as they dared each other to drink the most salted fizz. Rarity delicately putting her lips to Twilight’s ear and whispering, making her purple eyes go bright and wide for the teeniest of tiny moments.
Pinkie’s rump fell back to the floor with another squeak and she let out a small, satisfied sigh.
Set up party? Check.
Bring friends over? Check.
Have absolutely amazingeriffic fun-filled fandabulous time? Check! Check! Check!
Clean up after the party? Not check… for now.
She rose to her hooves again. “Time to get my room back to being pristine and squeaky clean!” She raised a hoof and smiled determinedly.
“Oh, Pinkie, dear, are you awake yet!” said a muffled, cheery voice from beyond the door.
“Sure as sure am, Mrs Cake!” Pinkie put a hoof to her forehead, before something else crossed her mind. A slight strain pulled across her cheeks. “Say… my party wasn’t too loud last night, was it?”
There was a pause and Pinkie was certain she could hear something tapping. “Well… I wouldn’t say you and your friends were quiet last night, dearie, but… I suppose Carrot and I can handle noise like that every once in a while.”
“Okie dokie lokie, Mrs Cake!” Pinkie’s wave of relief silenced the doubt that there was something a little odd about that pause.
“Now, Pinkie...” This time, Mrs Cake sounded very slightly closer. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen any sacks of flour anywhere, would you?”
Pinkie’s gaze swept the room again, taking in the light dusting of white over just about every surface mixed in with the great big piles of powder dotted about the floor.
She tittered quietly and rubbed a hoofsie against her snout. “I guess that’s why my nose was so snuffly this morning,” she mumbled. As she looked again, though, her eyes widened and the sheer amount of whiteness coating the room hit her like a train. Or maybe just one of the ponies that used to pull the train. Either way, it hit her quite hard.
“Why? Is something wrong, Mrs Cake?” She tried very hard to stop her voice from going a little wobbly.
“You could say that.” Her muffled voice had lost some of its lilt. “There aren’t any sacks left in the storeroom or the basement, and you saw how full they were yesterday.”
Pinkie couldn’t stop her mouth from doing what her eyes had done moments before.
Oh… Pickles…
No. No, no, no, no, no, no! No!
This wasn’t what a party was supposed to do at all!
She should never have let Applejack bring so much salt to the party, not when she already knew how much sarsaparilla could make her go all silly and clumsy. If this was all the flour that Sugarcube Corner had, then they wouldn’t be able to bake anything today. Today, just after they had taken a massive delivery. She had to suppress a ginormous gasp.
Today, when they were supposed to be bringing out the Hearts and Hooves Day special-somethings for special-someponies! Like the heart-shaped cupcakes and the Spicy Sweetheart Surprises and… and…
And the big, super-duper, enormous, gigantic Hearts and Hooves Day Cake with strawberry jam and icing that stood tall and proud over everypony in Ponyville and brought smiles to all the little ponies who saw it!
Pinkie could almost feel herself deflating. That steady rhythm that bounced its way through her body began to slow. The Cakes were going to be so disappointed. That was worse, far worse than the times she told a bad joke and made nopony laugh! This was… was…
This was something that would take much more than even her most spectacular of parties to fix. She was going to make somepony sad. The thought grabbed hold of her little heart and shook it to pieces.
“Mrs Cake…” Even her voice was not immune; she sounded like her nose was stuffed with the tickly powder again. “You might want to come in here for a looksie.”
“Pinkie,” said Mrs Cake, talking over the creak as the door swung open. “Are you sure nothiii…”
Mrs Cake was entirely still. Not even her bouffant nor her apron swayed as she stood, mouth threatening to make friends with the floor, glassy eyes staring at the… aftermath surrounding her.
In the middle of the mess, feeling something unfamiliar well up in her eyes and as though she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the whiteness, sat Pinkie. She blinked, and she was sure something began to trickle down her cheek.
“I’m sorry, Mrs Cake! It’s all my fault! Applejack brought some salt to my party last night, and I thought that we could all handle it but I should have known better! We got all dry and dehydrated and I guess we must have started a flour-fight. I mean, I didn’t know you could have a fight with something that won’t stay in one piece…”
She stopped herself. What was she doing? Now wasn’t the time to get sidetracked. That was for when everyone was laughing and having a good time, not when she could feel warmth behind her eyes and cold in her chest.
“But that’s not the point! I’m so sorry, Mrs Cake. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you! I’m sorry!”
Pinkie held back her sobs and brought her head back down to stare at the mess she had made, bracing herself for the inevitable anger. She raised a hoof before her eyes, unable to look at the kindly mare who had done so much for her over the years. Who had helped her complete the lessons in baking that Granny Pie had started. Who had put warm food in her tummy, and a warm blanket over her at night, and had looked at her with warm eyes for most of the day.
And who could do an incredibly, scarily, horse-apple-inducingly accurate impression of a fully-grown dragon if the mood took her.
However, before her hooves could get jittery and wobbly and wibbly enough to make little puffy clouds of the flour, Pinkie realised something. The wrath wasn’t coming.
Bravely, she put her hoof back into the powder and pushed her gaze upwards. Where her mane wasn’t doing its usual good job of bouncing in and out of her sight, she could see the blue, slightly-lined, subtly-rounded face of Mrs Cake, still locked in the same expression as before.
But it looked as though she didn’t want to keep it that way. Her bottom lip was twitching like Pinkie’s parents’ had done all those years ago, back at the very first party she had thrown, but the corner was darting more to the side than up.
Eyes still wide, Pinkie tilted her head. “Mrs Cake?”
Almost immediately, the spasms on the elder mare’s cheek ceased, and that gentle smile returned to her lips.
“Oh, no need to be sorry, Pinkie, dear. I know you didn’t mean any harm with any of this.”
The glassiness of her gaze was gone, replaced with a warmth that seemed to fill the room was well as a merrily crackling fire, or a nice sponge cake drizzled with chocolate. That always made Pinkie feel warm and sleepy. Or even a platter of fudge flapjacks, that would do the trick, too!
Whatever the simile, Pinkie heard something squeak behind her, before something else began to tickle her neck. This was soon put aside, though, as a super-duper warmth of… something and everything happy began to fill every fibre of her fluffy little body, and a beaming grin kept pace with it across her muzzle.
However, another part of her managed to spoil her fun. That sour, silly little bit of her that she sought never to seek advice from: actual logic.
“But Mrs Cake,” she said, her smile fading slightly. Slightly. “If all the flour is in here making it look like Hearth’s Warming Eve—or maybe it’s Hearth’s Warming Day, I can’t really tell—how are you and Mr Cake gonna make all the sweets and treats for Hearts and Hooves Day? Surely you’ll have to close Sugarcube Corner!”
Pinkie didn’t like listening to actual logic: it always told her that a lot of what she was doing when she bounced around Equestria and Ponyville simply shouldn’t be. But if it was bringing smiles and laughter and joy to the little ponies, she would counter, how could it not be? However, she had to admit to that weird little bit of her that sometimes, occasionally, maybe, possibly it had a good point. Like when it helped her make friends with Cranky by doing something he would appreciate. This was another one of actual logic’s good points, thereby bringing the total to two.
Pinkie had just enough time to remind herself to get a present for the donkey, as his birthday was in thirty-two days, before Mrs Cake spoke again.
“Well, I suppose we won’t be able to run the bakery, but we won’t have to close up the counter!” explained Mrs Cake, her smiling turning proud. “And if we do run out of stock, then I can always spend time with the twins.” Pinkie could almost see Mrs Cake glowing as she sighed happily. “Oh, it would be so lovely to spend a day playing with my little Pound and Pumpkin!”
Okay, three good ideas by actual logic.
“But Mrs Cake, didn’t you already spend the afternoon before yesterday playing with the twins when Sugarcube Corner closed for Sunday?”
For the most mini of moments, Pinkie was sure that there was something straining Mrs Cake’s cheek, and her brows furrowed for a fleeting flash.
As quickly as Pinkie could zip across Ponyville, though, the look of complete calm and wonderful warmth had returned.
“Oh, Pinkie, don’t worry about any of that. It’s no trouble, I promise.”
Pinkie cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, dearie. Really,” said Mrs Cake, her smile utterly unwavering.
Actual logic began to protest, but Pinkie was too over the moon and overjoyed to really pay attention any more. That giddy fizzy feeling flooded her fluffy form again.
“Oh, thank you, Mrs Cake!” Her grin grew almost beyond the bounds of her face. How a smile could be wider than her face she wasn’t sure, but that sure was what it felt like!
However, as her twinkling eyes opened again and took in the explosion of mess that still surrounded them, she pulled her grin back into a much more manageable smile.
“Hehe… I guess I should start cleaning up in here, though,” she said.
Pinkie’s eyebrow almost cocked again when, though she had already thought it would be impossible, Mrs Cake’s look grew even warmer. She could feel the heat beaming out of those eyes, or maybe it was just the sun hitting her back.
“Oh, Pinkie, aren’t you just the loveliest little mare! You always know how to make my day seem brighter.”
Pinkie playfully rolled her eyes. “Well, of course I am, Mrs Cake. Didn’t you hear my song the other day?”
The elder mare chuckled, and Pinkie Pie joined in with a few giggles and snorts of her own.
“Have fun, Pinkie!” called Mrs Cake, trotting out of the room. Pinkie brought a hoof back to her forehead.
“You bet I will, Mrs Cake.” Now she could sing her party clean-up brigade song!
Oooh, when you want to clean up a room,
It always helps to bring a broom.
And when you need things spick and span,
You’ll need his old friend, Dusty Pan.
She was certain Mrs Cake’s voice was what stopped her singing, but before she could cook up a question she was gripped by another matter.
Every other time she did this song there always seemed to be an army of dancing mops and brushes and dust-pans and trash bags and everything else she would need to return her room to its former self. It was always her all along, dashing and darting around to make it look as though it was a dance, but there was still something missing.
Everything she needed was downstairs.
“Oopsie, silly me!”
Barely more than a few bounces later, and Pinkie had made her way to the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were gently closed as she hummed the way through the rest of her little number.
A big thud was what it took for her eyes to pop open again, before they almost immediately popped out of her head.
In the centre of the open reception area, Pound Cake was playing with his blocks. His little white hoovsies planted on the floor, and he furrowed his tiny brows in a way that almost gave Pinkie the giggles through sheer adorableness. But the illusion was blown to bits as his eyes screwed up, and he cheered as he punted one of the blocks halfway across the floor.
Next to him stood Mr Cake, his face contorted in a way that make Pinkie ponder. His eyes were wide as they followed the careening cubes as they came ever closer to the cases of cakes. Little beads and balls of sweat trickled their way down his face, and his lips were twitching just like Mrs Cake’s had done earlier. More than that, she could see little creases pinching and puckering around the middle of his mouth.
Did Mr Cake have a mouth ulcer? Did he have something stuck in his teeth. Was he biting his lips?
“Nom nom nom!”
Pinkie’s pupils were pulled across the room, and her eyes came ever so close to covering the distance again. There sat Pumpkin Cake, her bow bouncing as she swayed happily, her mouth bulging with the stuffed softness of her Miss Flutterby doll’s head. The little yellow filly’s eyes closed contentedly as she chewed cheerfully, while her mother sat by her side. Mrs Cake was gazing warmly down at her daughter, but Pinkie couldn’t help noticing that those teeny tiny little spasms had made their way back to her mouth from wherever they had gone.
Pinkie rubbed her hooves against her eyes, and blinked away the blurriness as she took a second look.
Nothing changed.
That odd chill returned to her chest, and her smile slipped sadly away. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Her thoughts wandered back to her conversation with Mrs Cake all of two minutes ago. She had thought that Mrs Cake had been too… lax about what she had done. Too calm. Pinkie had always known that there was a line she could not cross with her parties, lest she be forced to face the super-scary-wary… face. But she had definitely crossed that line last night, and would be the first to raise a hoof and say she did. Which she had done.
And yet Mrs Cake had done nothing.
Pinkie hadn’t thought too much about it all those minutes ago. Maybe it was because the utterly and totally-truly terrifying… face had not been made for so long. Maybe she thought that Mrs Cake was beginning to trust her, and knew that feeling guilty would be punishment enough. Maybe it was that Mrs Cake had looked so genuinely happy to have a day with her foals, and Pinkie wouldn’t have dared to take away the chance for somepony to be happy.
But this… This was… this! No other words came to her head apart from… this!
Something was so very, very wrong that she couldn’t think of a stronger adjective to describe how wrong it was!
At that moment, Mr Cake opened his mouth, and for a tiny moment Pinkie felt a beacon of hope force through her fear. Actually, force was too strong a word for hope: it was more of a sort of push.
“All right, Pound Cake,” said Mr Cake, smiling the same warm smile as his wife, “if you want to use your hooves to push things, how about we play Patty-Cakes?”
The little colt waved his hoovsies in the air, cheering and grinning as though it were his first and second monthiversaries together.
Pinkie Pie opened her mouth to protest, but she could find nothing apart from splutters to say for herself. For the lost-count-of-how-many-eth time, her eyes nearly popped from their place.
Actual logic made it’s case in the swirling soup of her thoughts, and her mind was made up.
If there was anypony in Ponyville who could give her an explanation for… this, then it would be the most super-smart smart smarty-smart pants herself. The mare who lived in a tree full of tomes, who would spend hour upon hour with her gaze glued to the wondrous works of ponies from the past. The filly who filled her days with the cause of completing her compendium of knowledge.
Twilight Sparkle.
She bounced out of the door.
The odd, unpleasant, totally-not-fun-at-all fluttery feeling in her belly began to fade away with each spring of her step towards the tree. Before too long, all of the jumbling thoughts settled down so that she could take stock of what had happened.
What had just happened?
The Cakes were good parents. All throughout her life under care, through the best times and the not-so-fun times, they had been nothing but good, kind, caring, gentle ponies, who had showered her with all of the love and attention that she could ever have asked for, and more.
Pinkie took a moment to remind herself to plan the most super-awesome, secret, secluded “Party-for-a-Pair” for their anniversary next month, before heading back onto topic.
But still, they were good parents. Whether through Mr Cakes normal nudges in the right direction, or through Mrs Cake’s barely-perceptible pushes and her… impression, they had always made sure she knew where her boundaries were, and they had carried that over to the twins. What would suddenly stop them from discipline their own children? Why would they allow them to do things which she had seen them admonishing them for just weeks ago? Or was it months?
Pinkie shook her head. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that something had changed, and she had to get to the bottom of this.
Fortunately, she was now within sight of the tree that she was looking for.
She allowed her smile to spread; soon she would solve the mystery and all the oddities and strangeness that had happened in the last half-hour would be back to normal!
At that moment, a flash of grey flew in from the right of her vision, plummeting at a pace that made her Pinkie Sense pulse and her heart hammer. She sped up her own springing step as the blur hurtled towards the ground, her smile replaced with a grimace and her eyes wider than dinner plates. As the grey dot got closer to the ground, the blue orbs rivalled baking trays.
She looked away at the final moment, the flash’s flight ending with a heavy thud, and her breath whistled through her teeth at the sound of something splintering. Or somepony.
Oh, gee-whilly that was a big spilly!
Unlike most ponies, Pinkie did not match the thundering in her chest with a similar action in her hooves; she bounced her way over to the crash site.
It looked like a big accident. It sounded like a big accident. But, now that Pinkie thought about it, Dashie had had harder landings than that, with the only injury being the frown that would sit on her muzzle, refusing to budge until Pinkie had unleashed her world of pranks and puns on the unsuspecting expression. That would teach a mean old frown for messing with her friends!
She giggled. Now she was getting sidetracked from her sidetracks! She sure was being a silly Pinkie today. Maybe that salt hadn’t quite worn off yet.
Still, even if that crash was as big and nasty and bruise-y and break-y as it had sounded, Ponyville General was barely more than ten minutes away on hoof. They could simply take the poor pegasus there and they’d be right as rain and back in tip-top shape in a jiffy!
As she stepped over bits of broken wood and around splinters, Pinkie spotted a grey mare sitting on a pile of crumpled and crushed letters. Her blonde mane was tussled and sprinkled with dust, and the bubbles on her flank were hidden by a smudge of dirt that would have given Rarity a fit. She pressed a hoof against her forehead, eyes screwed shut.
“Ooh… muffins…”
“Are you okie-dokie, Derpy?” asked Pinkie, masking the sudden tenseness that had gripped her throat again.
“Hey, Pinkie,” said Derpy, blinking her eyes a few times. “I… think I’m all right.” She twisted her head and shook out her fore-hooves as if they were jelly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Oh, goodie.” Pinkie mixed her sigh with her words. “So, what happened?”
Derpy’s muzzle darted around like she was trying to follow a fly buzzing somewhere near the ground in front of her, before she turned to face Pinkie.
“I don’t know…” she began, one eye looking at Pinkie, the other finding something exciting around town hall. “I think I might have leant over too far and let my mailbag slip, so I couldn’t fly straight. At least everypony’s all right.” Her eyes went into happy semi-circles as she beamed.
Those golden orbs reappeared a second later, or maybe just over half a second later, as she turned to face a small stump with a mess of splinters covering it. “I guess Mr Mailbox didn’t make it out okay, though.”
“Neither did somepony’s window,” said another voice, one that Pinkie could only describe as neutral and boring. And who wanted a boring voice?
They both turned to face the newcomer. It was a hot-pink mare with a yellow mane, who Pinkie recognised from the flower shop that she had snacked at yesterday. In fact, she had a couple of her namesakes nestling in her mane right now.
“Hi Lily!” She waved a hoof.
“Hello Pinkie,” replied Lily, in that same calm but decidedly dry voice as before, and Pinkie recoiled. Lily never sounded like that; if there was the slightest hint of anything wrong, Lily could quite easily match her on the high-notes during her songs!
But there were more important matters right now, like how to fix poor Derpy’s feelings.
“I’m sorry, Lily.”
Wait.
Pinkie’s gaze shot over to the grey pegasus, and a set of questions instantly began running through her head. Where was the slouch? Where was the slightly wobbly, terribly and sincerely sorry tone? Where was that adorably sad look that only a select few ponies could manage, with the dinky little frown, the eyes shimmering with tears, and the little pushing out of her lips that combined with the other two to make Pinkie just want to sing her the most stupendously-spectacular song and take her to the best party she could ever plan and make everything right and happy in Derpy’s day?
“It’s all right, Derpy. No need to make a fuss and make you feel unwelcome over something little like this, is there?”
What?
Her head spun around again, and the routine repeated itself. Where were the words of admonishment? Where was the frown, and its ‘friend’ the furrowed brows? Where was the look of restrained anger: the twitchy-twitching lips were still there like Mr and Mrs Cake, but where was the fire in the eyes that was, at the same time, being doused by the waters of guilt and sympathy? Where was the shrieking?
“Thanks, Lily,” said Derpy, raising a hoof at the mare whose property she had just caused quite extensive damage that both were treating like a buff-able mark, or even as if nothing had happened at all! “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Everything went quiet for Pinkie. She could see both Derpy and Lily say something else to one another and not, but she couldn’t hear it over the loud shushy sound that filled the air around her, like back when the twins had been born and Nurse Redheart wanted her to stop being noisy. Didn’t she know that you were supposed to celebrate birthdays for foals? Anyway, this time it was louder than at the hospital. The last time she had heard the noise like this was back when Spike had gotten all giant and greedy and had smashed Sugarcube Corner to smithereens!
No. She couldn’t keep getting sidetracked like this. She had a mystery to solve!
Pinkie shook her head, and after eyes spun around a few times she stole a glance at the sun. Another gasp pulled itself through her gaping mouth: it had moved a whole three inches across the sky!
Sharp intake of breath! She had to get to Twilight’s sooner rather than later. Setting her smile to determined, she bounced away from the smashed window.
Pinkie Pie finally allowed the jitters in her hooves to make themselves useful, as she tapped on the library’s front door.
“Twilight!” Her voice was back to its sugary self at the prospect of seeing her friends again. “Are you in there?”
“Hold on a sec, Pinkie!” called back the familiar voice of Twilight, and Pinkie felt the last creeping chills being banished from her body. Probably as far away as the moon, as well. Now she was going to get some answers!
“Spike, would you get that for me?”
“Sure thing, Twilight,” said a slightly raspy, higher voice.
As she listened to the little thuds getting louder on the other side of the door, Pinkie swayed on her hooves. She had some time to pass, so maybe she could think about what Twilight might say!
Would it be Poison Joke? Pinkie shuddered at the memory of that plant’s idea of fun. That wasn’t a joke! She’d not been able to talk or laugh or sing or do anything fun for a whole day! Where was the fun there? Anyway, now that she thought about it, it couldn’t really be Poison Joke. She hadn’t seen anyone breaking out in blue polka-dots on the way here. And also, if Poison Joke had made her tongue go all swollen and made Applejack all teeny-tiny shrinky-dinky, and made Dashie go all crash-y, then rhymes aside surely it would affect everypony differently.
Maybe everypony had just had too much sarsaparilla and were still a little too happy to be mad? Even though sarsaparilla had sass in the name, or pronunciation, having too much of it always made Pinkie feel giddy and silly and sleepy. But, now she thought about it, not everypony got happy after a lot of the stuff. It was kind of like how not every one of her friends wanted to spend time with her all the time. Some ponies would be happy and funny with a fizzy tummy, but some others got all ratty and shouty and had to lay off the stuff.
How could you lay off sarsaparilla, anyway? You didn’t lie on it; you drank it. Everypony knew that! Silly Equestrian!
Maybe it was… Pinkie gulped.
Maybe everypony in Ponyville wasn’t really them at all! Maybe they were… zombie ponies!
No. No, they couldn’t be. Twilight said that there was no such thing as zombie ponies, and she was the cutest, smartest, all-around-best pony in Ponyville, if she remembered right! Now who was being the silly one?
Her questioning stopped as the door swung open, shortly followed by all thought processes as she took in who had opened it.
Spike stood before her, his arm still hanging off the door handle, his tiny little fangs just peeking out from under his top lip as he smiled.
But that wasn’t what stopped her. Or made her eyes go wide again. Or made her lips pinch into a little circle.
It was the shoes that covered his feet, with their pointed ends and their brass buckles and their shines so bright she could see herself reflected in them. It was the pants and shirt, with their baby-blue colours and their frilly white cuffs and the yellow sash tied around his middle with a delicate little bow. It was the hat, with its giant golden feather and flowing, swishy pattern around the side and the fact that it seemed to be covering a puffy golden wig where green spines were supposed to be.
“’Sup, Pinkie?”
She couldn’t help herself. She grinned.
“Oh, Spikey-wikey!”
She started to snort, and bit her lip.
“That ge-he-he-het up…”
She drew a breath, and snorted again.
“It’s just so-ho-ho-ho-ho… so…”
She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and gave in to the giggles.
Her mane tickled at her neck as she shook with snortles. She liked that word: she’d come up with it when she’d tried to find a way to talk about her mix of chortles and snorts, and presto! Snortles were born! And it was such a fun little word to say, too! Almost as much fun as the tickly giddiness that she felt as her smile stretched and her hooves tapped to the tune of her titters.
Eventually, she had to wave goodbye to her little snortle storm, but she had certainly enjoyed their stay! Her beam bunched her cheeks, and she felt so light all over, like she could just fly up and cover the whole sky with swirls of colour. She wheezed one last squeaky sigh.
Oh wowee! I sure needed a laugh like that!
She looked back at Spike, expecting to see his face being all pouty and under attack from one of those meanie mean-pants frowns that liked to creep up on ponies, or dragons, this time. But, no, he was still looking up at her with that small smile, not a single, little, itty-bitty change about his entire expression. Even his claw was still hanging off the handle.
Pinkie took her whole head aback, but just before she launched into another long ramble through the reasons the most simple one of all popped up.
Her eyes twinkled, and she brought a hoof up to her chin to try and stop her chortling again.
“So, Spike, I guess you must be wearing that for your super-secret—” She drowned herself out with a gigantic gasp. How could she forget that!
“Oh, wait,” she remembered, “is that even a secret anymore? I thought you already told Rarity back when you were falling through the sky after you stopped being growly and rarr-ry and went back to being our little Spikey about your cr—”
“There you are, Pinkie!”
Oopsie! Looks like silly little Pinkie got sidetracked again!
“Hey, Twilight!” she called out to the purple unicorn, stepping inside the library as they trotting towards each other. As she caught sight of her friend’s inquisitive little smile, though, images of colts bouncing blocks across the floor and a pegasus sitting amongst strewn splinters threw themselves into her mind’s eye, and the voice of actual logic crept up in volume.
“You won’t know how happy I am to see you!”
For a moment, it looked as though one of those pesky frowns had claimed another poor pony.
“Why? Are you throwing another party this afternoon?” asked Twilight, blinking a few times and screwing her eyes slightly.
That just brought about further images, and Pinkie could feel those terrible chills beginning to creep up on her.
“No, it’s not that,” she replied, her fizzy tone hiding her second of fear. “Do you remember anything about the party last night, though?”
Twilight shifted a little on her hooves, kind of like if the floor had suddenly turned to jelly.
“Hmm… I think so…” she said. “Applejack brought some salt, and we played games and sang through the night just like your other parties?”
“Ah-huh.” Pinkie nodded with a tinkling noise, before her smile shrank and she shook her head with a more hollow, rattling sound. “Well, we did stay up most of the night playing games, but we also got into the flour stores! We were all so dehydrated and such silly-fillies that we ended up wasting all the flour with a flour-fight. And then Mrs Cake saw it this morning and she… and she…”
“She didn’t get angry, did she?”
“No!” Pinkie’s voice strained and scratched like Dash’s for a moment. “At least, I think she got angry. Her lips were twitcha-twitching like my tail when something’s about to fall, but she never said anything like she was angry! She just sort of… stood there, and let me start cleaning up after I said I was sorry. She didn’t even say anything about how the foals would have been kept up all night by our party!
“Actually, talking about the foals, you should have seen how they were acting this morning! They were running riot and breaking things and chewing on their cuddly toys—actually, that’s kind of what they try to do every morning. But the point is that Mr and Mrs Cake weren’t doing anything to stop them! I swear, it’s like something just sucked out all their parenting skills! There must be something seriously wrong!”
“Actually, Pinkie—”
“But that’s not all!” she cried, making Twilight put her hoof back on the floor. “After I saw that I came to see you for an explanation-”
“Yes, and as far as I—”
“But on the way I spotted Derpy having one of her accidents.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “Was she all right?”
“Yeah, she’ll be fine as always, but she wrecked Lily’s window and mashed-up her mailbox!”
“And let me guess,” said Twilight, nodding her head with a little smirk. “You’re confused that she didn’t get angry?”
“Well, duh!” She stopped Twilight’s smile by jumping up to her, staring widely into those purple eyes. “I mean, it is nice that we live in a town where nopony really lashes out at Derpy because of her eyes or her wibbly-wobbly flying, but this wasn’t like that! Lily had every reason to at least be upset with that damage, but she didn’t do anything!”
Pinkie pulled away and splayed her forelegs, her chest heaving and eyes gleaming as Twilight continued to stare at her. A few blinks later, the purple unicorn chuckled and shook her head. For only the second time in her life, Pinkie felt her heart twinge rather than soar at the sound.
“Oh, Pinkie, I think you might need to lay off the sarsaparilla for a little while,” said Twilight, smiling, but Pinkie didn’t feel herself do the same.
“Huh?”
“Well, if it’s going to get you worked up over ponies simply letting things go, then I think it’ll do you a world of good. But only if you want to, that is.”
“What?”
“Honestly, Pinkie,” said Twilight, trotting over to a nearby shelf, a red aura gently shifting one of the books to straighten it. “I could be wrong, but I think you’re overreacting to something which is perfectly normal under the Princess’ instructions to—”
“Normal?!” Pinkie popped up in front of Twilight, pushing her pink fur against the purple. “Wha… bu… I… Normal?”
After darting her eyes around on each syllable, she returned to staring into Twilight’s eyes, as if trying to scare the solution out of her friend.
She didn’t want to scare her friends, though, and she backed off. Scaring your friends was okay for just a little jolt, like when she and Dashie had spooked Spike with the lightning cloud and everyone had laughed afterwards. But this wasn’t a prank, and she wasn’t trying to make Twilight laugh. She was scaring Twilight so much that her cheek was… was…
Actually, it didn’t look as if Twilight was scared at all. Her eyes hadn’t gone wide, she wasn’t biting her lip, and her hoovsies weren’t dancing the jittery jig.
What was going on?
“Hello-ooo,” a refined voice floated in from outside. Rarity followed her words around the door. “Are you ready, Twilight, darling?”
“Of course I am, Rarity,” called Twilight, looking around Pinkie for a moment before turning back to face her. “You won’t mind if we finish our discussion later, would you, Pinkie?”
Pinkie’s open mouth and dinner-plate-sized eyes answered for her, but it seemed as though Twilight couldn’t understand her. She followed the two unicorns as they trotted closer together, both wearing identical, warm smiles and with the same twinkles in their eyes.
“Oh, I simply cannot wait for our little get-together to begin, Twilight,” said Rarity, batting her eyelids like Pinkie had seen her do to many ponies in the market, only without the glint in her eye this time.
“Neither can I Rarity; there’s nothing quite as lovely as talking with your friends over a nice cup of tea.” Twilight nodded and breathed a happy little sigh.
Wait.
They were having a… tea-party?
“In fact, it shall be even more lovelier today, darling, for we’ll be having somepony joining us!” Rarity grandly raised her hoof.
Twilight’s eyes danced with light again. “We will?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Wait.
That voice. That twang. That was…
In through the doorway stepped a very familiar earth mare, and along Pinkie’s back crept a very unpleasant jingly-jangly tingly feeling. On her thick, toned flanks, worked into shape by thousands of hours of bucking trees, sat a trio of the fruits of her labour and her namesake, standing proud against the orange of her fur. Across her freckled face was a warm smile, radiating a friendliness echoed in her green eyes.
… Applejack.
“Hello Applejack.”
“Howdy Twilight.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you could join us, Applejack,” said Rarity.
“Weeell,” said Applejack, tilting her eyes upwards and tapping her chin with a hoof like she was trying to shake the thought free. “Ah may not be one for pretty-fyin’ all that much, but Ah do love spendin’ time with you gals, and if gettin’ all gussied up is what it takes to do that, then Ah reckon Ah can tolerate that.”
No twitches. Not a single crease appeared near Applejack’s smile.
It took all of Pinkie’s concentration to keep her jaw from bumping against the floor.
Applejack was joining a tea-party?
“Applejack, you’re joining a tea-party?” Pinkie repeated.
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Yeah… why? Somethin’ wrong, Pinkie?” she asked, her tone still light.
“But… but…”
Pinkie shook her head, and after her eyes stopped swivelling again she pointed a hoof at Twilight. “Okay, I can understand Twilight having a tea-party. She loves the stuff so much that she’s willing to get herself turned to stone in the dead of night just to get her hoovsies on her favourite blends, and a tea-party is one of the quietest kinds of parties.”
She shifted to hoof over to Rarity, and tried to cover the raggedness in her breath.
“And Rarity is a smooth, sophisticated mare of style.” She wiggled her neck for emphasis. “So she can probably appreciate a super little soiree like this, since she has one with Fluttershy every week. I mean, a tea-party’s a little too quiet and calm for my sweet tooth, but I wouldn’t want to be a damper on Rarity’s pampering.”
Now she turned the hoof onto Applejack, not noticing just how much it was shaking.
“But Applejack, you’re… you’re Applejack! You hate all things frilly and frou-frou. You hate tea-parties!”
As she finished her declaration, Pinkie was sure she heard something squeaky and scratchy cut through the air behind her. The other three stared at her, their mouths gaping and eyes wide, like the face Mr Cake had made when she used a certain word beginning with ‘b’ without knowing what it was. They then turned to stare at each other, before doing something that she would never have guessed.
They giggled.
“Oh, Pinkie Pie… you do know how to bring out the laughs in everypony!” said Rarity.
“Yeah, sugar-cube,” added Applejack, still shaking her head with a wide smile. “Woo-ee. Ah guess that‘s what we sounded like before we had our love and tolerance, right?”
Again. What?
“Love and tolerance?”
“Pinkie, are you sure you haven’t had any sarsaparilla this morning?” asked Twilight, trotting over with her eyes full of concern. “I can tolerate it if I‘m wrong, but it sounds like your saying that you don’t remember the Princess entrusting us to be the Examples of Love and Tolerance?”
For what she hoped was the final time. What?
“Love and Tolerance?” The jitters in her voice vanished for a moment. “But I thought I was the Bearer of the Element of Laughter? I thought I was supposed to show all the little ponies about how much having fun can bring ponies together!”
Despite being the Bearer of the Element of Laughter, though, she was only the pony that the Element decided was the best pony to represent it. After all, she couldn’t think of any other pony whose special talent was bringing out the joy in everypony through parties and pranks and singing and dancing and prancing and everything like that. But she wasn’t a perfect example of the Element of Laughter. That would be silly! Nopony could be a perfect example of anything; they were only ponies after all. The clue was in the word! There were days where even she felt blue; days when actual logic shouted down all her party ideas and she had to be reminded that a smile was all she needed to brighten the day. Now she thought about it, she was having one of those days right now!
But all her friends had those moments. Sometimes, Twilight would lock herself in the library for days on end if she caught the bad end of a book-binge. Rarity occasionally found somepony else’s problem a little too icky to stick her hooves in. Even last night, Applejack had said that she’d felt, “right awful for lying t’AB about mah bag like that”, but she’d done it to keep her little sister’s mind free of the big, bad, headache-y, chunder-y side of salt.
Thinking of Applejack, it was at that moment she popped out of her inner monologue to find herself staring at an empty room.
“Wait! Guys!”
She dashed down the nearest corridor, through which she could hear three voices. Two of them she didn’t even have to recognise: they were Twilight and Rarity. The third caused her issues, though. It was clipped, and elegant, and refined. At some points it even sounded as though Rarity was talking to herself.
“Oh, you do look marvellous darling, much better than with your mane hidden away beneath that hat of yours. Your hair is simply divine when treated right, although seeing as you work on the farm I can tolerate you not doing anything: it would be a nightmare to try and maintain this style through your apple-bucking.”
Apple-bucking?
“Oh, thank you Rarity,” replied the new voice. “As I said before, I may not particularly understand the need for all this accessorising, but if it means I get to spend time with you girls I can gladly sit through it. Besides,” the voice dropped a little lower, now, “you’ll be able to do the same when we fix the barn next week, won’t you?”
Barn?
Rarity’s titters wafted through the nearest door. “Oh, of course I will, Applejack.”
Applejack?!
Pinkie peered around the edge of the door frame. This time, she did feel her chin bump against something.
Her strong, chipped hooves were hidden away inside dainty little slippers. Her stocky, powerful body was covered in so many layers of frills and lace and pastels and pinks and purples that Pinkie would have said she was drowning in them were it not for the obvious signs of Rarity’s intervention. Her simple ponytail had been pulled apart, and reworked into a lavish sequence of curls and braids that almost made Pinkie feel dizzy looking at it. Just above the mass of mane, a tall, pointed, pastel hat floated in a bluish aura.
She could only tell that this was her friend and not some horrible impostor when she looked into Applejack’s eyes. Yet, somehow, that made it even worse.
“Is something wrong, sugar cube?”
Pinkie couldn’t answer the odd tone; her voice had been robbed by what was happening behind Applejack and her dress.
There stood Spike, his back rigidly straight and his head bowed, still dressed to excess in that outfit that dripped with every Rarity hallmark. He held one arm across his back, his claws loosely curled, but the other was outstretched, bearing a little silver tray laden with cakes and scones and a tiny porcelain pot with flowers circling its curves.
He was holding out the offering to a very familiar unicorn, who perched on a little pouffe. Where Pinkie expected to see gleaming white, however, there was soft lavender, though most of it was hidden away beneath silky indigo stitched with glittery swirls. Twilight sat with her eyes contentedly closed, and gently smiling as her horn glowed. A dainty teacup hovered in the air before her, enveloped in the pinkish light that matched the petals on its side.
Spike was acting like a… butler? To somepony who wasn’t Rarity? To Twilight?
She looked beneath the hat hanging over Spike’s face, just noticing the soft smile resting there silently.
No backtalk? No sarcasm? Nothing?
“Sugar-cube?”
“Snap out of it.”
She surprised herself with how flat and tense her words sounded, and her friends’ eyes... didn’t widen. At all.
“Whatever do you mean, darling?” asked Rarity, bringing the hat down onto the table.
“Snap out of it!” Pinkie’s voice scratched and everything went tight again. They were all just staring at her like she’d brought out a fresh batch of cupcakes.
“Snap out of what, Pinkie?” asked Twilight.
All the breath suddenly rushed out of Pinkie, before she pulled some of it back. “Snap out of...”
She flung a hoof towards Applejack. “Snap out of that dress!” Darting forward as far as her legs would let her, she pointed a shaking foreleg at the table and the dainty tea-set on it. “Snap out of this tea-party!”
She whirled her head around, and when the room stopped spinning she was looking at Twilight again. She could feel her lips getting tugged down by a very mean and very strong frown, and did everything she could to try and stop it.
But it wasn’t enough.
“Snap out of... of whatever it is that this spell has done to you!” She threw her hooves down. “Or whatever it was! Just snap out of it!”
Something she really didn’t want to think about stung at her eyes. She glanced between the three of them. She wanted to watch her friend Spike throw jump up and out of his little suit and stick his tongue out in disgust. She wanted to see the Applejack she knew burst out of her dress, shake off all the frills and demand to have her hat back. She wanted to watch the Twilight that had brought them all together pull her head back with her eyes wide, and flick them from side to side in search of her books.
None of that happened, though. They all just stood there, calmly resting their gazes on her, their faces utterly, completely, totally placid.
Oh no...
“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow, Pinkie,” said the one with the pink streak in her mane.
“Yes, we’re just being loving and tolerant, darling,” said the one with blue eyes, a gentle smile on her lips.
“Yes, Pinkie,” said the one who should have been nowhere near this. She still spoke in that strange, clipped tone that oozed snootiness. “And, I hope you’ll tolerate me saying this, sugar-cube, but you aren’t being that yourself. But we can let it slide ourselves if you want to stay as you are now.”
Something around her tummy just fell away, and she felt her jaw do the same thing as she just stared at... at them. Them, and their stupid warm smiles and their silly soft stares and their... their...
When she managed to finally drag her chin back up, it pulled her hackles along with it.
“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY FRIENDS?!”
She saw one or two of… of them make a step towards her, but before they could get any closer she bolted back down the corridor and through the reception area and back out into Ponyville.
As she kept running past the houses, she didn’t notice the rumbles and roars as the ground shook under the weight of a hundred cows thundering through the town. She didn’t see the three little fillies, one earth, one unicorn, one pegasus, stood atop the leading cow, their faces cracked with huge smiles. She didn’t hear their squeals of excitement, or their yell of, “CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS COWPONIES… YAY!” She didn’t hear the rumbling voices of the Ponyvillians, all muttering the words ‘love and tolerance’ through clenched teeth and twitching tongues. She didn’t see The Mayor on her podium, looking furtively between the stampeding herd and a piece of parchment where the ink descended through black and into red.
And, as she made her way out of the village, not once did she skip. Nor did she spring, nor bounce, nor lollop, nor canter, nor frolic, nor even do her patent-pending Pinkie Pie prance.
She ran. With her nose streaming and her eyes blurry, and her little hoovesies tripping over each other. She ran from the tea-party. She ran from the town.
She ran from her friends.
No.
Pinkie dug her hooves into the ground, and skidded to a stop in a huge cloud of dust. Slowly, she stole one last look at the village. She sniffled.
Her friends didn’t act like… like that! She let her head hang limply, and sobbed.
Sure, they got along pretty much all of the time, but they didn’t always see eye-to-eye, or hear ear-to-ear, or talk mouth-to-mouth, or anything like that! Hay, even Fluttershy didn’t always let things go when she didn’t want them to. Those little niggles and foibles and frustrations weren’t always a bad thing.
Yes, sometimes they would grow into something big and bad and mean. Something that hurt somepony’s feelings and made somepony feel awful about themselves over nothing really. Like when Applejack and Rarity spent a long day bickering over the design of a new doggie-bed for Winona, or how Dashie sometimes let her temper get the better of her when trying to talk with Fluttershy.
But they were friends! They always pulled through those dark days by talking to each other, and accepting their differences and embracing them, not just loving and tolerating. Duh! That was boring! Because those little differences were what allowed them to rub off and bounce against and gel with each other in ways that they would never have thought possible. They brought a little bit of spice into a day that would otherwise have just been plain with a dash of vanilla. They made her friends who they were.
Her lip wobbled. Those ponies were not her friends.
But if those ponies weren’t her friends, then… then…
Something popped behind her, but it was nothing compared to the shatter that she felt in her chest. She heaved a sigh and bowed her head, her mane falling limply in front of her. She watched through blurry eyes as the green slowly drained out of the grass beneath her.
Without her friends, she was alone.
“Pinkie…”
Huh?
She peeked out from under her mane, and blinked away the blurriness to get a better look at the familiar voice.
There stood a blue pegasus, casting her a warm look that didn’t quite seem right for her face, despite the fact that her eyes were a deep pinkish colour.
“Piiinkie…”
The pegasus stepped closer, the sun now catching her mane and shooting three colours at Pinkie.
“Piiinkiiieee…”
She called out again in the same scratchy voice that tickled at Pinkie’s heartstrings, before it grabbed hold of them and pulled viciously.
Oh no…
“Oh, Dashie, no! You’re one of them too, aren’t you!”
“Piiinnnkkkiiieee…”
The pegasus continued to come closer, her face glowing with that same warm look as… those others had been showing her earlier.
Now that Pinkie looked at it again, though, it just seemed… empty. Like there was nothing behind the warmth at all. Not a proud, confident smirk or a big, happy beam or an adorable little smile.
Nothing.
“Keep away! Stay back! You’re not my friend!”
“Pinkie.”
Those eyes. They were the same hot shade of magenta as Rainbow Dash’s, and the warmth was still there, but there was no fire fuelling it.
“You’re not Dashie!”
She tucked her head under her hooves, and buried her muzzle against the ground, shrinking away from the pegasus who raised her own hoof over her.
“Pinkie!”
Her shrieks finally fell to a croak.
“I just want my friends back…”
“PINKIE!”
“Snrk!”
Pinkie’s eyes shot open as something very soft but very tickly invaded her nose. They closed again as she sneezed, before flying out wide once more, scanning her surroundings as the seconds passed with shallow breaths.
Not too far away was a great big tangle of sheets and blankets, with a divot in the middle of it and the smell of something not particularly pleasant pouring off of it. In the corner lay the mangled mass of cardboard and crepe paper that signalled what was left of Poco the Piñata, the treats in his belly safely tucked away now in somepony else’s. A little further to the right sat a circle of cushions, still bent and bowed around the bodies of their former occupants, and with a few bottles still half-full of brown fizz dotted around them. One of the bottles had been knocked over, its contents lazily dripping out of its cracked neck.
Relief relaxed her entire body as it washed over her. A tiny sigh escaped her mouth, before it closed into a soft smile.
But it was what she heard next that filled her heart with a joy that spread to the tip of her ears to the very bottom of her little hoovesies.
“Ugh, finally!”
Pinkie spun around to face the familiar, raspy, scratchy voice.
Next to her stood Rainbow Dash, her lips firmly feeling the presence of a particularly mean frown. Her fur was matted across one side, and her mane was tussled even more than it had been when she had broken the sound barrier and sent rainbows all the way across Equestria. She was swaying a little on her hooves. Her eyes almost creaked as she blinked.
But deep within those magenta circles pulsed something that Pinkie never thought she would never be truly, totally, one-hundred-percent glad to see: annoyance.
Her face exploded in a gigantic grin, and she felt as though she could fly up to Celestia’s sky, but settled on just far enough to reach her friend.
“Dashie!”
She wrapped her forelegs around the pegasus and squeezed harder than she probably ever had done before. She had given Dashie a lot of hugs in her time, and it was a little difficult to keep track of all of them. Still, this was one of the few times where she had huggled her so hard that her wings had popped out and she had made her go, “oof!”
She held on for a few more deep breaths, the spicy scent of rainbows wafting in and out of her nostrils as a contented smile made itself at home.
“Uh, Pinkie?”
“Yes, Dashie?”
“Kind of struggling to breath here.”
“Oh.”
Quick as a whip, she pulled away her hooves and planted them on the floor, flashing her most innocent of grins. “Hehe… sorry, Rainbow.”
Rainbow shook her head, but when she stopped she was sporting a small smile of her own. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Pinkie. S’not as bad as some of the bone-breakers you gave us last night.” Rainbow smirked.
Pinkie chuckled, her mind awash with images of a particularly-cuddly dare that Fluttershy had managed to squeak out to her during the final hours of the party. “Hehe… yeah…”
Dash’s smirk still held. “Still,” she said, “that was an awesome party last night, Pinkie.”
“Aww, thanks Rainbow!” she chirped, but all this managed to do was make Rainbow close her eyes and purse her lips for a moment.
“Whoa, Pinkie…” she groaned, rubbing a hoof against her temple with a little grunt. “Keep it down a little, will you? Some ponies can’t just guzzle salt and not feel a thing like you can.”
Pinkie giggled again. “Silly Dashie!” She leant over and rubbed her shoulder gently against Rainbow’s. “You know just how giggly and silly and tipsy I get when I have salt! I just don’t get any headaches, is all.”
“Yeah… I noticed.”
“Say…” said Pinkie, pulling her head away from Rainbow’s before tilting it accusingly. “That wouldn’t be why you slept over last night, would it?” A smirk played at her lips. “Can’t stomach your salt, huh, Dashie?”
“Hey!” Dash’s brows furrowed, her smile budging a little but not entirely. “It’s not my fault that The Mayor put out that law against flying while dehydrated. I do still live in the clouds, remember.”
The fire in her eyes burned strong for a few moments, and Pinkie was beginning to think she would have to throw out a pun or two to lighten the mood, before Dash let out a snort.
“Still. Awesome party, Pinkie.”
The two shared a smile.
“Oh, Pinkie, dear?”
“Yes, Mrs Cake?”
“We seem to be missing a few sacks of flour. You wouldn’t happen to have seen them anywhere, would you?”
Pinkie’s eyes went wide, and she looked away from Rainbow Dash. As her baby-blues scanned the room, they took in the light film of white over nearly every surface. They noticed the little tracks and scuffs in the film where the colours underneath could be seen more clearly. They spotted the little pile of brown sacks, their sides split and their cargo spilling out like an overstuffed pie.
She turned back to Rainbow Dash, who looked like she had just done the same thing. And like she was thinking the exact same thought that filled Pinkie’s head.
Oh…