This idea came to me from the birthday match-up thingy... Become mortal enemies with... PINKIE PIE?!
Once every decade, they chose a single person. Their fate would be determined by their date of birth, and for the amusement of all on the internet, they would be forced to live by whatever pairing had been presented them. I curse my mother for ever birthing me on this fateful day. "Become mortal enemies with... PINKIE PIE?!" My fourth wall will never be the same.
Every author does one of these, right? Well, consider it my self-insert into FiM. My birthday is August 17th, and that fateful match-up has led to one of the most interesting text message conversations I've ever had, followed by a similar dream. I was struck with inspiration. I think it was the line "Icing and Confectionery casualties number in the thousands! THE THOUSANDS!" That broke the proverbial camel's back.
I said to myself: This s%&t deserves it's own story.
Short, semi-frequent updates whenever I see fit, until the story's done or I've had enough. Not really going for any other style, and as is the trouble with writing dreams, the idea gets kind of vague after a while. Enjoy?
"Step forward." The commanding voice issued not a request, or even an offer. No, it was more of a mandate. As if the hand of God himself compelled me forward, I stepped into the spotlight. Looking up at my judge, jury, and executioner, I swallowed hard. "Jordan Williams," The voice reverberated almost painfully in my ears. "You have been chosen as this decade's tribute. Your peers and friends have nominated you, on account of your strong inner will and keen mind. Do you have any objections?" I swallowed the fear in my throat, straightened my back.
"None, Princess."
"Very well. Your fate will now be revealed. What have you to say?" Again, I had to swallow as I met the piercing gaze of the god-like creature standing on a pedastal above me.
"I want to say... Whatever fate may bring, I accept it willingly." Princess Celestia gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod. She turned to the shrouded board before me as a cheer began to pulse through the crowd. We stood on a stage raised above a crowd of millions, Celestia standing on a marble pedastal, me in my loose jeans and Brony t-shirt. I wore black sneakers. It wasn't good fashion sense. Still, I held my head high as a chant began to raise from behind me.
"Loy-al! Loy-al! Loy-al! Loy-al! LOY-AL! LOY-AL! LOY-AL! LOY-AL! LOY-AL!" The reverberating sound pounded through my veins, made my fists tighten as I felt my brow break out in sweat. This was it. This was the moment of truth. The shroud was gripped in the powerful grasp of Celestia's magic as she tossed her head to the side. With a flourish and the sound of satin on cardboard, my fate was revealed. Silence fell, deafening in the abyss left behind. The last echoes of the crowd's chant rang in my ears as we all studied what was in store for me.
"What is your birthday?" Celestia said, loud enough for all gathered to hear.
"It's..."
"SPEAK UP!" Her voice roared out, buffetting me with it's force. I slid back two inches, the spotlight adjusting to follow me. Straightening my back, I raised my voice, firm and loud.
"August Seventeenth." Celestia turned her gaze back to the board.
"Your fate is..." Silence once more. All eyes were fixed on the massive board before the crowd. Up top were each of the twelve months, followed by a short sentence. They contained simple things like "Be stuck on a desert Island with..." or "Take over Equestria with..." And below, a grid of thirty-one faces next to numbers corresponded to the day. My eyes found August... It read...
Become Mortal Enemies With... Not good. I didn't want to be ANYone's enemy. My eyes flickered over the portraits. I found ten, began counting up... Twelve, fourteen... Fifteen... Sixteen...
My eyes rested on the portrait of the seventeenth. Not even Celestia dared utter the name. Seconds passed. A minute. We all knew it, it was there, plain as day, staring me right in the face. I felt my chest tighten at the implications.
"Your fate..." Celestia spoke once more, markedly more quiet than before.
"Is to become mortal enemies with..." Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria, all-powerful god-like creature who commanded the very sun, had to pause to swallow a lump in her throat. The next two words from her regal mouth might as well have been a death sentence. Or maybe a diabetes prognosis.
"Pinkie Pie."
"YIPEE!" The piercing, high-pitched voice made me wince. I watched as a curly-maned ball of girlish delight bounced over the heads of the crowd. People and ponies moved aside, allowing access to the bouncing pink pony. She bounded on stage, cartwheeled, snapped my hand up inbetween two hooves, and started shaking it roughly.
"I've NEVER had an enemy before! I've only ever made friends and stuff! Ooh, do I get to fight you?! What does 'Mortal' mean, when it's used with enemy, I wonder?! Ooh, Princess Celestia, I'll do my best to make Jordan's life a living nightmare! Don't worry, I've never had an enemy before, but I think I can do it well enough! Wait, does this mean we're like, enemy enemies?! Like, not supposed to be friendly at all?! That's gonna be tough! I know! I'll start with this!"
"What... OOF!" In the span of three whole seconds, Pinkie had shook my hand fifteen times, spoke a short speech, and turned around to plant both her back hooves into my stomach. As I began flying backwards, I saw Celestia blink. I thought I saw her lips form the word 'Mercy.'
Pandemonium erupted. I flew backwards off the stage, skidding at least twenty feet across the floor. People tripped on their way to the point in space that was the furthest, though probably not the safest, from the bouncing pink equestrian citizen. My breath had fled somewhere between Stalliongrad and Trottingham, so I had no choice but to lay on my back as the first cupcake arced through the air. Icing filled my vision as it landed on my face with an audible splat.
"Ooh! Bullseye! Let's try that again!" My breathing returned along with a rush of sugar into my mouth, and I frantically wiped the icing from my eyelids. Another heavy thump as a second cupcake hit my stomach. A third against my shoulder.
"RUN!" I heard the command. Blinking my eyes at long last, I came to focus...
Right down the barrel of a hissing cannon.
"OH SH-"
*BOOM*
Confetti erupted into the air over my shoulder as I scrambled to my feet. "Aww! I missed!" Scrambling frantically, I fled the scene, chased by another cupcake and... Was that a baby alligator? Feet pounding over the concrete floor, I ran as fast as I could, panting as I weaved. Two cakes and a disco ball landed in front of me, having just barely missed my head. "Wow, this is FUN!" The she-demon whom I had been cursed to fight called out behind me, loading another disco ball into the cannon, with what appeared to be cake batter for powder.
"This... This doesn't make any SENSE!" Another deafening boom punctuated my sentence for me as I was showered with gooey bits of funky decor. "ACK!" Sputtering against the uncooked dough, I ducked behind the stage, which was quickly peppered with three more confectioneries.
"Aww! You're no fun behind there! Come out!" I scooped a handful of pink icing from the stomach of my ruined shirt, ducked out so I could fling the mess at my target. I missed by a mile. Too bad Pinkie Pie's accuracy with baked goods was the envy of even the most talented career military sniper. Only she was aiming for hilarity, and not my brain. She erupted into laughter as a full-sized pie broke over my face, completely covering me from brow to chin.
"PBBTH!" Spitting cherries out and wiping the crust from my eyes, I turned and ran again. "Not good, not good, not good not GOOD! AUGH!" I was foiled as, rounding the corner, I came face-to-face with another hissing cannon. Diving to the side, my leg was peppered with... What was that, sprinkles? I rolled to my feet, covered in frosting and goop, thankfully finding refuge behind a massive concrete support beam. The hall was all but empty now, the millions of people having vanished in a panic. It was me and Pinkie, and she seemed to be armed with an almost endless supply of party favors. How do you defend yourself against an enemy whose main arsenal was standard bakery fare? You don't. You take a breath and...
"RUUUUUUUNN!" I made for the nearest double door, showered with more confetti and a full-sized wedding cake. The groom figurine clattered across the floor at the same pace as me as I sprinted for the door. Leaping at the last moment, I kicked the door open, slipped on a wayward muffin doily, and slid down the front steps. Hesitant crowds saw the shower of bread and frosting coming my way and turned tail.
"Yeah, thanks for the help!" I gasped, coming to my feet and rubbing a bruised backside. "Seriously! Stop it with the cupcakes!" I panted, taking another two to my left leg as I started limping away fast as I could manage.
"Hee hee hee!" Pinkie Pie only giggled at my predicament. "I bet that hurt, huhn?! Am I doing a good job, Celestia?" I shot a look over my shoulder, spotted the regal princess hovering in the air above my worst nightmare. Her head hung with sadness, and she had to answer truthfully.
"You're doing a fantastic job, Pinkie... And Jordan, I am so very sorry. Fate has spoken."
"Oh come ON!" I whimpered, closing my eyes as the last bit of humiliation filled my senses. The force of what had to be the five-hundredth cupcake lifted me off of my feet, flung me backwards down the street. Spraying icing into the air with the force of my impact, I tumbled and rolled down the street, skidding to a stop as Pinkie Pie bounced over to me.
"Ooh, that was FUN! We'll have to do it again tomorrow!" She bent over me, licking my cheek free of icing.
"Ick." I groaned, wiping my cheek.
"Yummy! Ooh, I wonder if I can make a bomb out of Chimicherries! I've got BAKING to do! See you tomorrow!" She bounced off, leaving my battered and weary body in the middle of the street.
"Wait, tomorrow...?" I called after her weakly.
"Well, yeah! We are MORTAL enemies now, right? DUH!" And in an explosion of glimmering confetti with grape juice, she was gone. Exhausted, I let consciousness leave me.
"Wake up." I feel a nudge on my side. "Hey, I said wake up!" Another. My head is splitting. I bat at whatever is nudging me from the blissful darkness of my sleep. "Sheesh, he's really out, huhn? Come on, Jordan, wake UP!" I grunt as a swift kick lands directly on my ribs, rolling me over as I clutch at the blow with a hand. Compared to the rain of cupcakes from... Was it yesterday? Whenever... It felt almost like a kiss. A very rough, solid kiss...
"Ngh! What?" I look up with bleary eyes at my attacker. Whoever it is, they're dressed in military fatigues. "Who are you?" I groan, wiping my face with a sugar-crusted hand.
"Firstly, I'm your savior." His accent is VERY thick... "Secondly, I am General Dragovich, Stalliongrad infantry. I watched your fight yesterday. No one man should have to fight the pink demon alone. Come." He offers me a hand, rough and callused with long winters and longer wars. I take it, and he immediately turns and walks away. "We have little time." He's walking really fast. Still sore and slightly dehydrated from secondhand cupcake intake, I follow at a fast limp. "The pink one rises with the sun, much like the bread rises in her ovens. Her abyssal, infernal ovens. Come." He sweeps aside into a nearby building. Down one set of stairs and through another door, we're in a parking garage. "I am risking many men on this mission. Do not let me down. Get in." He throws open the back door to a nearby car, what appears to be a sedan.
"What-" From nowhere, ANOTHER cupcake splatters into my shoulder. The general whirls, a pistol in his hand.
"SHE'S HERE! GET IN, GET IN! DRIVE!" Three shots ring out in the early-morning darkness. I dive into the back seat. "DRIVE!" He kicks the door closed behind me, the muffled sound of three more shots coming through the window. The car lurches backwards, engine revving loudly. I sit up and watch out of the window as the general is hit by a cupcake, a second, a third... The horrifying sight of the fourth splattering his face makes me wince. I fasten my buckle as the car roars out of the garage and down the pastry-strewn street.
"Rest in peace, General Dragovich." I say softly. -Thump, thump, thump- Three more baked projectiles splat into the rear window, spaced an even six inches apart. The driver glances into his rearview mirror.
"Nice grouping." With that, he lays on the gas. I watch inbetween the cracks of the pink and blue icing as more cupcakes sail through the air, breaking apart as they roll across the pavement behind the car. We leave my nightmare behind, though I get the feeling somewhere deep inside, it's not over.
-----------------------
I never knew how right I was. The severity of my fate, as laid out that day, was never made clear until much later. De-facto commander of the stalliongrad infantry, I spent the next month in some deep, dark bunker somewhere, arranging defenses, taking insulin shots, trying to lose weight. She was everywhere. She could be anywhere. Many times I had hatched the perfect defense, cackling in triumph before a chimi-cherrychanga blasted through our defesnes, showered me with goopy, sugary cherry filling.
I couldn't sleep. Nightmares of cupcakes with fangs and soldiers under my command splattered with sprinkles, laying defeated on the scarred battlefield danced across my dreamscape. I would wake, and a single loaf of bread would be resting on my nightstand, steaming slightly as if it were fresh from the oven.
Those abyssal, infernal ovens.
"General." An officer salutes as he enters my newly-remodeled secure bunker. "I have someone. They say they are an ally." I return the salute weakly, taking a sip of coffee.
Decaf.
"General Williams." It's a pony, wearing a heavy cape that covers it's features. A not-uncommon occurance. "I have valuable intel for you." Sighing, I lift my gaze.
"Pony, whomever you are, you cannot provide me intelligence on the demon of baked goods and party favors herself. The numbers of our casualties are in the thousands." I slam my fist on the table. "THOUSANDS! All of my men have type two diabetes! Seventeen alone went into coma yesterday! The force of her icing can break bricks and concrete fortifications. Her batter stops bullets and bombs in equal measure. She roasts marshmallows on our napalm. Those devious chimi-cherrychanga bombs rip my men's appetites to shreds, can penetrate to the depths of the very earth... What's more, she has a seemingly endless supply of them. All the flour in the world can't make that much bread... Then there's the pie launchers... Intelligence suggests she has them stashed all over the battlefield." I slam my fist into the table again. "IN CASE OF A PIE LAUNCHER EMERGENCY!" A deafening boom echoes through the fortifications, raining dirt from the cracked concrete cieling.
"AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE DAMNED CANNON!" Almost as if in defiance, a single square of glittering confetti drops from the cieling, fluttering as it lands on the surface of my coffee. Disgusted, I throw the styrofoam cup in the trash.
"I think you'll want to hear this, general..." The pony throws her hood back. It's Twilight Sparkle. Nationally decorated hero and the most skilled unicorn in all of Equestria. I snap to attention and salute crisply.
"My apologies, commander. I didn't recognize you."
"Now's not the time, Williams. Listen." She steps close. "My time is short. But if you must know, Pinkie Pie has a weakness." I lean closer, hands flat on my dirty desk. "Her weakness is..." She raises a hoof, whispering loudly. "Spicy." And with that, she's gone. In a flash of brilliant purple magic, I'm left with only one morself of knowlege.
Slowly, a wicked grin begins to spread across my lips.
"Major."
"Yes, sir!" I lift my head, grinning at my second-in-command.
"Start rallying all the Tobasco and Cholula bottles you can. I'll take it all. Louisiana, McIlhenny, even those little packets of crushed red peppers." The grin widens. "Dare I say... Srirancha..."
"S-srirancha?! B-but, s-sir... The geneva convention strictly states biological weapons are outlawed-"
"TO HELL WITH THE CONVENTION!" I scream, slamming the abused table once more. "One last thing, Major."
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Contact Lieutenant Dash." I smile and turn to the map on the wall behind me. "I'm gonna need some rainbows."
I'm standing over a long production line where my soldiers are taking pure, unadultered children's dreams and candy and using their happy melodies to weave them into rainbow extract. Then it goes into the mixing vat, where Rainbow Dash is manning her post admirably.
"Status report, major."
"I thought I was a lieutenant?"
"Consider yourself pre-emptively promoted, then. Where are we at?"
"Eer... I think phase four."
"The sonic rainboom?"
"You're thinking back a ways. No. This phase is... Uum... Steeping."
"I don't have time for st-" *Splat* Like I could have stopped it. Like a tired old man, I wipe the random cupcake from my face. It's almost a daily occurrence now. I can hear her haunting giggle fade away as my best soldiers tromp after her. Interesting, she's taken to hanging from the ceilings and throwing them now. I heave a sigh and turn back to Rainbow Dash.
"Sorry about that. I'd talk some sense into her, but talking sense into Pinkie Pie is like telling Jupiter to stop being so big."
"Anyways... This is her one weakness, Major Dash. We need these finished ASAP."
"General, I'm working as fast as I can. You can't rush a rainbow." I grin down at her.
"Watch me."
------
"Everybody ready?" The eve of the battle. I know she's out there. The shattered and broken battlefield is barren of everything living... Only glitter and the occasional discarded pie launcher lay strewn about the decimated landscape. Concrete juts up out of the ground at odd angles, jagged lines softened only by the caked-on icing and rotting sugar. This has gone on long enough. Hoisting a water balloon filled with anything but water, I look up and down the long lines of my battle-ready men. Many of them are cupcake vets. Most of them have lost an appetite, or even two, fighting the pink demon.
"SIR YES SIR!" The chant makes my chest vibrate. I grin and juggle the balloon a little bit, hefting it, testing it for weight.
"Then let her come."
Daybreak.
The sun rises over the horizon like the bread rises in her ovens. Her infernal, demonic ovens. A lone figure stands on the hillside. Four-legged, poofy outline... She's carrying something in her mouth.
"Sergeant, binoculars."
"Here, sir..." I'm handed a hefty set of high-tech binoculars, which I use to assess the lone equine silhouette on the horizon. Lining my eyes up with the lens, I focus on her. In her mouth, she's clamping...
"General? You're shaking."
"Pardon me, Sergeant..." I say softly, setting both the binoculars and the water balloon down gingerly.
"S... Sir?"
"I need to... I need to go."
"Sir?! You can't go! She's right there! We can WIN this!"
"I know we can... But I need to go accept her surrender."
"SURRENDER?!" He drops his own water balloon, the goopy red filling splattering my boots.
"Jeez, man! Watch it with that stuff! You'll kill someone!" I scold, jumping back.
"S-sorry, sir... I'll go get the biohazard suit."
"Better make it two!" I call after him. "Srirancha eats through those gloves like no other..." Packing an extra shot of insulin, I make my way out onto the field, my sentries and snipers scoped carefully in on me as I advance on the lone figure.
"Hihhaw Hoorrhaaa! Ptoo! I mean, hiya Jordan!" She says, spitting the flag out onto the ground as I warily approach.
"Eer... Hello, Pinkie..." I say cautiously. Probably the first words we've exchanged in a month.
"I just wanted to say, that I surrender. I don't wanna be your mortal enemy anymore."
"Wh... What?" I ask in disbelief.
"Yup. You look like you're getting awfully sad and lonely out there with all those other guys. And I kinda feel bad for doin' this. I mean, Princess Celestia's orders are orders, but I can't stand to see somepony frown because of me. So, here. I made you this." She pulls a cupcake out. Immediately, I hear hammers cocking and safeties clicking off. About seventeen red dots blaze on her pink coat.
I raise a hand. They all vanish slowly, as if hesitating. Carefully, I take the cupcake from her.
"It's a new recipe! Sugar-free! You know, so you don't have to worry about... The, uh..." Her face puffs up for a second, her cheeks and neck suddenly very fat. "Diabeetus."
Hesitantly, I take a bite.
And spit it back out.
"PTOO! It's so sweet! Ugh! Urgh! Oh, my liver!" I'm groaning and rolling on the ground. Pinkie Pie erupts in laughter, all four of her legs kicking in the air as she rolls about. I crawl away from her as the first wave of fire erupts. She's gone, of course, the bullets and water balloons burst upon the open ground without any effect on target. Somewhere off in the distance, I hear 'April fools!' and I realize what confounded day it is.
"General, are you alright?" My trusty Sergeant hauls me to my feet, and I spit off into the dirt.
"Call the planes. Have them dump the BSB." I grunt, wiping my chin free of icing.
"Sir! We've... Well, there's an ambassador here from the UEN."
"UEN?"
"United Equestrian Nations. She says it's urgent." I glower at him and am soon guided back to my personal bunker, the fifteenth I've had to construct since we've began this whole debacle.
"Commander Sparkle." I say, saluting once more. This is the second time in two weeks I've received a visit from her.
"General Williams. This is a cease and desist order from the United Equestrian Nations, signed by the leaders of your world and ours. As you can clearly see, this is your American President's signature, and Princess Celestia's mark." The looping, elegant signature was marred by it's neighbor, a rather unsightly yet somehow powerful and demanding hoof-print in ink. I take the page gently in my fingers, wondering what exactly this entails.
"Eer... Cease and desist what?"
"Aah... That is the ledger of acknowledgement. See, THIS is the real order." She hefts a huge, massive tome onto the table, dust picking up under it's cover. It's sleek, bound in black leather, and looks very professional. Using her magic, Twilight opens to a page about a third of the way through. The script is tiny. Like, miniscule...
"As you can clearly see here-" I scoff. "In section four-forty two, paragraph eighteen, sentence six... "And as such, General Williams of the Stalliongrad Infantry is herby ordered to cease all open aggressions against Pinkies Piecus on threat of death."
I stare at her incredulously.
"On... Penalty of DEATH?!" I stammer.
"Afraid so." Twilight sighs, dropping the book's cover once more.
"But... This is... I can't... WHAT?!"
"And if you don't, Celestia said she'll let me carry out the sentence." I'm speechless, my mouth hanging open as I stare at her. "Don't worry. I read a book about executions. See, I have it with me." She pulls the book out of her saddlebags, brandishing it in front of my face. Sure enough, the title reads "A Unicorn's Advanced Preliminary Guide to Public, Private, and Televised Executions, Part 4"
"This is a series?"
"There's a lot of legal jargon to work through. So. Are you going to stop?"
"I... I guess I have no choice." I mutter. "Sergeant, you're in charge. Tell the men they don't have to fight the pink demon anymore... I suppose I'll have to live my life constantly hounded by the cupcakes of Tartarus..."
"OH! I almost forgot... Here, section twelve-four-two, paragraph twenty-three... You only have to cease open MILITARY operations against the aforementioned genus and species... So, yeah. YOU can fight her. The Stalliongrad Infantry can't."
"Eer... Wait, what? Why didn't they put that part in with the first one you showed me?"
"Hmm? Oh. Like I said. Legal Jargon. There you have it. It looks like you're going to acquiesce to the UEN's request, so I shall leave you to it. Oh, I do need to leave with your rank, though."
"Right. Take it. Sergeant, I suppose you're in charge."
"Eer, following proper chain of command, sir, that would be Major Dash." Twilight slapped her face with her hoof.
"Great. Might as well re-name it the "Sonic Rainboom" Infantry..."
Somewhere, off among the ranks of dazed and confused soldiers, I heard her cry out 'Great idea, Twi!'
"Right then... Is that all?"
"I... Guess it is..."
"Good luck to you, Jordan. Pinkie's my friend and all, but I'm kind of rooting for you..."
"Really?"
"No. Statistically speaking, Pinkie Pie holds the advantage over you in every way, shape, and form. I'd be a foal to put any hope in you. It's just kind of fun thinking the underdog could win." Twilight smiles at me and trots away happily.
"Commander?" I call weakly.
"Hmm?"
"What ARE the statistics...?"
"What, you mean like... The chances of you winning?" I nod. "According to preliminary calculations... Approximately forty-one point oh-seven-seven-four-two percent. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless you lose some weight."
-Note from the Author-
I really shouldn't have written this. I need to be asleep.
