Just Trust In-Flate
You sit at the cafe table with your six friends, watching Pinkie Pie with a glare. She’s babbling on about something, you’re not quite sure what, but you’re focusing on the way her mouth moves. You’re honestly trying to tell if she’s breathing, trying to figure out how that would even work. This is a line of thought that has bothered you for about a month now, ever since you came to the conclusion that rocked your pony world view:
Pinke Pie is a balloon.
It sounded crazy to you at first, just an idle musing of a bored mind. But as time passed, it began to make more and more sense. She’s so light weight, can seem to float when she wants to. She deflates slightly when sad, she speaks in that high voice, obviously enhanced by helium. She even seems to change in size, getting bigger and smaller at will, inflating whenever she wants. You’ve also definitely seen her blow up other balloons, only to have them float right away! Any person who’s taken a basic science class knows that balloons don’t just float if you breathe into them, so she must be full of some lighter than air gas! Then there’s her obsession with parties, I mean, what’s more festive than a balloon?
This has given rise to more questions than answers though. How does she eat? Maybe all that cake she has is converted to gas in her stomach, and that’s how she refuels? How does she breathe, talk, or use the bathroom without deflating? It makes no sense!
You’ve long forgotten that you’re in a world of brightly colored talking cartoon horses that can do magic. Nope. Pinkie is obviously the thing that makes the least sense here. You’re fixated enough to know that now. Fixated, not obsessed. Definitely not obsessed.
Maybe only a little very much obsessed.
Pinkie takes a sip of her hot cocoa, again making you wonder how the fuck a balloon like her would even do that. It’s absolutely maddening, and some part of you feels enraged that a sentient creature like her should even exist. Apparently you’ve been grumbling under your breath, for Rarity reaches out and gently taps you on the arm.
“Uh, dear? What were you saying?” she says, a smile in her voice but also some concern.
You glance at her, just another annoyance you have to deal with while trying to study your new fascination.
“Oh. Nothing.”
Without another word, you go back to watching Pinkie. Still, Rarity persists.
“But darling I know I heard you say something. You’ve been seeming quite grumpy today, and I’m a touch concerned. If something is the matter, you know you can-”
Before she can finish her thought, you slam your fist down on the table. All the tea cups of the others jump, clattering as they do. You don’t even care that everyone is staring right now, you can’t keep this bottled up any longer.
“Of course there’s something wrong,” you hiss. “And none of the rest of you can see it! You’re just too caught up in her words and her parties and adventure and friendship and morals and crap like that.”
Twilight cocks her head at you.
“Uh, Anon, you okay? Your face is turning a little red,” she says.
You’re sure it is. You can feel the heat spreading over you. Pinkie Pie has been lying this whole time, pretending she’s really a pony, when really she’s probably some magically brought to life balloon creature from hell. She could be a changeling spy, could be a new species altogether, but whatever she is she's a deceitful little thing, and they've all fallen for it except for you. Well, you won’t let her get away with it. You’ll prove your theory once and for all!
You stand up abruptly from the table, and all the ponies jump once more.
“Look,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “We all love Pinkie Pie, but I can’t let us live this lie any longer.”
“Uh…” Pinkie says, glancing around in obvious distress. “What are you talking about? I mean, it’s super duper nice to know that you love me, and I know that if we talk about this we can…”
As she goes on, you reassess. The way she talks so much, maybe she’s full of hot air and not helium. No matter, you still have to prove it.
“I mean,” you say, cutting off her bubbly tirade of joy and sensibility. “I know your secret Pinkie Pie.”
She blinks at you, then smiles.
“Well that's silly, I don’t have any secrets really! My heart’s an open book, maybe an open cookbook, where all the recipes are sweet, and I’m really only secretive about other people’s secrets, so are those really my secrets? I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it before, you sure do ask a lot of weird que-”
Before she can go on, you step over to her and grab her by her shoulder. She yelps like a bike horn in shock, and the others all stand up from their seats, obviously concerned.
“Now, just take it easy Anon,” Twilight says, raising a hoof but also lowering her horn in a subtle warning. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you seem a little… unhinged. Let’s just discuss this.”
You shake your head vehemently.
“No more discussion,” you say, breathing hard as Pinkie squirms in your grasp. “I need to know.”
With that, you pull out a comically large pin that you found in one of Rarity’s hats, back at the boutique. The other ponies gasp, and Pinkie eyes the object with notable concern.
“Wowie, that’s a big pin!” she exclaims. “Whatcha gonna do with…”
Then her face changes as she seems to understand. It's not the look of horror you were expecting, but she does seem... mildly put off at least.
“Hey, don’t do that! That’s gonna hurt an awful lot, I already don’t like to get shots at the doctor. Except for when they give you candy afterwards,” she says with a pout.
But you barely hear her. You’re already lifting the pin over her, imagining how this will go. If you poke her with it, she’ll fly around the air, venting gas and sounding like some horrible farting noise. Then she’ll deflate, like a big pink prune, and you’ll have to reinflate her, but at least you’ll know for sure. And the others will know you’re not crazy! And if you’re wrong? Well… there’s always another town you can go to, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve stabbed one of your friends just to prove a point.
“Anon, wait!” Twilight says, her horn beginning to glow.
But it’s too late. You plunge the needle down with a guttural cry of victory. It hits her arm, and you see it sink in, as she once more yelps in pain.
Then, all at once, there’s a horrific bang. A soft explosion impacts your palm, and suddenly Pinkie Pie is gone. Scraps of her form fly out in every direction, one spilling Spike’s hot tea directly onto his face, leaving him screaming and clawing at his eyes. Pink bits of elastic rubber fall with a sound like raw chicken skin to the floor, and then there’s a sudden, impenetrable silence. A single long strip of pink hangs from your fingers, swaying gently in the light breeze.
It takes your brain a few seconds to realize what you’ve just done. You stare down at the spot Pinkie was just at, then to the pink scrap in your hand, then slowly you look up at your friends. They are all slack-jawed and silent, except for Spike who is still whining in pain. At last, your mind figures out the whole situation, and explains what’s just occurred:
Dude, you popped Pinkie Pie.
“Uh… I… I didn’t…” you babble out.
Nothing you can say will make this right. Nothing you can do will bring her back. You killed your friend. And for what, to prove a theory? Because you had to know the truth? It doesn't feel good now, it doesn't feel right. You feel crushed inside. This wasn't what you wanted at all! This was never what you wanted!
“Anon,” Twilight says, her voice stern, her cheeks flushing. “Do you have any idea…”
You hold up your hands in front of your face, ready to shield yourself from her magic attack.
“…how long it took us to inflate a balloon that big?!”
You look up, and now you’re the one to go slack-jawed. What the fuck did she just say?
“W-what?” you spasm out.
Rarity rolls her eyes.
“I mean really, darling,” she says. “That’s one of the most expensive balloons you can buy in Canterlot, and Twilight tried that animation spell at least twenty times before she got it right! The first few that could move only drooled and thrashed around like a beached mackerel. That was so much work, and now gone, just like that, pop. What have you got to say for yourself, hm?”
You glance at the others, all obviously fuming at you. After a moment, you give a slow, sheepish shrug, pin still in hand, and put on your best smile.
“Um… I guess I’m sorry I was such a… prick?”
The first teacup hits your head before the last word is even out of your mouth.
-END-