Anyone else a Scientologist?
“Hello, my name is Berry Punch, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hello, Berry Punch.”
“I-I... I don’t think I can go further right now,” the young mare almost broke down right there, but the organizer of this event quickly came up to her and helped her off stage*.
“It’s alright, Berry, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.” He went back to the large chunk of solid hygiene and carefully climbed atop. His name was known to the whole group, but few called him by it(1) and instead called him by his clan name, Scrub(2).
The stallion faced the crowd with a deep breath, and smiled as he spoke, “Thank you, Berry. Are there any other first-timers who would like to introduce themselves?”
Only one pony raised his hoof to Scrub’s helium-like question, an unassuming brown-brown pegasus pony with a smiling sun with a pair of shades for a cutiemark. Scrub stepped down and promptly slipped. The new pony stood to the side of the block of soap, not wanting to share a similar fate.
“Hello, my name is Slow Cruise, and I’m a scientologist.”
“Hello, Slow Cr--”
“You’re a what?”
The interruption came the audience, where a pink fluffy pony stood, all attention now on her in spite of not being on the soap-box(3). Her defiance drew a few harsh glares, but just as many faces were in agreement.
“I said I’m a scientologist.” The pony by the crumbling pile of soap glared. “Do you think that just because MY problem doesn’t involve a physical dependency it doesn’t deserve equal attention here?”
Pinkie shook her head. “No, I was just wondering what in the cupcakes a sciencetographer(4) was!”
“That’s sciencetologi-GAH YOU HAVE ME SAYING IT NOW! Scien-tolo-gist. There. Ha. And I’ll have you know it’s my religion,” he finished with a smile.
“Then why would you be coming here? Why not a church? And why are you in a twelve-step program for your religion?” For some reason there was now a large blue cylinder next to Pinkie, as well as a circle of personal space usually reserved for grumpy alicorns(5).
At this point the pegasus smiled widely and happily, and replied through that grin, “I’m not here for ME, oh no, I’m here for you ponies. You see, my group helps ponies with addiction just as well as the P.A.(6), and for cheaper, too.”
“This is free,” piped up a random beige mare on the side.
“Yes, and service is very cheap, only half your month’s paycheck every two weeks.”
Pinkie edged closer to the cannon(7), which should have tipped the pegasus that something was amiss, but he continued talking.
“And before I go further into how the mushrooms will complete your life, may I see if there are any others of my cul-uh, religion in the crowd? Please? Anyone else a scientologist? No? Well--”
“Ohh ohh, pick me! I have a question!”
“...Yes, the pink one.”
“Did you know that you smell like cake?”
“What? No I don’t. Where did you get that ide--”*SPLAT* “AHHH!” *WHOOSH-CRACK*
“Well you do now!” Pinkie opened her eyes along with the rest of the audience(8) and gasped in shock. “What do you know, Twilight was right! You can come in now, Twi-Twi!”
The purple alicorn strode through the door to see the Cruise covered in cake, hooves covered in a sickly sweet, slick substance and belly up, head split wide open to reveal its contents.
“Good work, Pinkie. I knew mapping how your powers worked would help out one day(9). And you...” Twilight calmly approached the broken skull and poked a hoof and what was half-hanging out of it. The little green alien did his best to look like a pile of brains, but fell far short of the mark. “You’ve been causing QUITE enough trouble. We don’t need you taking my ponies’ money as well as their sanity. They have little enough of both as-is.”
“I’ll get you for this! Central Hub will rise again!” The creature that was (hopefully) the real Slow Cruise dived for the inside of the skull and a panic button.
Pinkie squished him underhoof before he even properly got up. “Let’s see you be crazy now, martian!”
“Thanks, Pinkie. You’ve saved Equestria once” Twilight said, before dipping Pinkie into a long and wet kiss, shocking viewers everywhere with the outward display of homosexuality on children’s television. They would go on to have share a dozen or two cupcakes with their friends in celebration of finally showing their feeling.
And everybody lived happily ever after.
Except for those damn scientologists. They all died of Baked Bads.
And Berry learned that it didn’t really matter if she drank. Her daughter still loved and it didn’t affect her job anyway, as long as she didn’t drink TOO much stock.
Oh, and Scrub got better. His speech impediment was somehow solved by the bonk to the head from slipping.
The random mare on the side went home and enjoyed her day, trying to forget everything that happened. That may or may not have happened at Berry’s bar.
And the moral of the story is that sometimes injury, mental or physical, is helpful to the economy, providing jobs to ponies who specialize in taking care of others, whether it be through tender nurture, or the daze of hard liquor.
~Fin~
*More like a glorified soapbox. Curious. Have you ever seen a soapbox? Well, neither have I. I have decided that the podium is a box made of soap. Not very stable, and not be used when wet.
(1) If you must know, it’s Squeaky Clean. In spite of his talent being to help other ponies “get clean,” he was actually named for his high-pitched voice.
(2)Not much better, but it doesn’t get quite as many suspicious looks...
(3)To be fair, neither was Cruise, but by now three ponies had been sent to the hospital because of that silly tradition, and it was probably time to break it.
(4)One who maps science. Probably Twilight Sparkle on a bad day.
(5)Usually when they start trying to map science. Or Pinkie Pie.
(6)Ponyholics Anonyomous
(7)You see, this was odd because she was the one who materialized it. But this is Pinkie. Yes I am. Stop that you. Awwww.
(8)They knew this from the signal Pinkie gave. Regular training had Ponyvillians familiar with 42 scenarios covering various disasters, monster attacks, evacuation procedures, and, yes, much of anything to do with Pinkie Pie.
(9)Not that she understand them. But see? SEE? Sciencetopography works! Sometimes... Anyway, who do you think was making these notes important to the story?