The Editor in My Head
The Editor In My Head
Pinkie Pie trotted through Ponyville’s dark streets, humming softly to herself as she balanced a plate of cookies on her back. Her mane was a little less poofy than usual, and her step was a little less springy. The words of the heated argument she’d just witnessed still echoed in her mind, making it hard to think happy thoughts.
“Come on!” Dash had said over and over. “Daring Do is the best! Even Twilight agrees!”
“Darling, please,” Rarity replied. “That mare is a brute compared to Hoofabeth Bennet in Arrogance and Preconception.”
“Oh, please don’t fight,” Fluttershy muttered from behind her mane, but neither Rarity nor Rainbow Dash heard her.
“Blegh!” Rainbow Dash said as she stuck out her tongue. “That sappy love story is way too long.”
“Come on, girls,” Twilight said nervously. “We’re just picking a book to read as friends.”
“Well, it’s not my fault Rarity only wants to read boring old books about ponies that just stand there and talk,” Dash cried.
“It’s called sophistication,” Rarity snapped. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect certain ponies to understand that.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Now, come on, girls,” Applejack said, stepping between the irritated pegasus and unicorn. “This is s’posed to be a friendly meetin’. Why don’t we just compromise?”
“I am not reading some stuffy romance novel!” Dash shouted.
“And I refuse to read about some uncouth, unsophisticated explorer!” Rarity replied.
“You take that back!”
It took all of Applejack’s strength and a spell from Twilight to keep the two apart. “Enough!” the purple mare shouted. “This was supposed to be something fun to do as friends, but apparently you can’t even agree on what book to read!”
“But she only wants to read boring books!” Dash protested.
“I don’t care!” Twilight yelled. “We can’t even get past step two on my checklist of things that make a good book club without somepony starting a fight!”
“She started it!” Rarity and Dash said in unison before glaring at each other.
“Um, Twilight,” Fluttershy said. “Um, maybe we should think about what book we want to read and then try again later. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sounds good to me,” Applejack said. “Reckon it’ll be better than arguin’ about it.”
Twilight didn’t look particularly hopeful, but she nodded. “All right. Everypony come up with a few books they’d like to read, and tomorrow, we’ll pick one. And I don’t want to see any arguing.”
And so, the ponies had set off into the early evening, leaving Pinkie’s snacks practically untouched. It’s okay, Pinkie reassured herself, looking sadly at the cookies she’d worked so hard to make. Everypony was just in a bad mood tonight. I’m sure their going to be much better tomorrow.
They’re.
“Waah!” Pinkie jumped several feet in the air, spilling her cookies on the ground. Who was that? she wondered as she peered into the shadows. Seeing nopony, she carefully gathered her spilled snacks and continued home. I must be hearing things, she decided. Who knew arguing could have that affect on a pony?
Effect.
“Who said that?” Pinkie shouted, her head whipping around to find the source of that weird voice. “Show you’re self!”
Yourself. Come on, that doesn’t even make sense.
Pinkie screamed and bolted, abandoning her cookies to whoever walked by next. She ran straight to her room and slammed the door shut behind her, panting heavily. That voice was in my head, she thought as her eyes darted from her bed to her dresser, wondering if perhaps it had followed her here. Why is their a voice in my head? I mean, I feel a little sad, but not really. Why in Equestria is they’re a voice in my head?
Really? You got that wrong two different ways in the same thought?
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Pinkie screamed.
Who are you talking to?
“I’m talking to you!” Pinke shouted. “Why are you following me around and saying random words and talking in my head and–”
Whoa, enough with the run-on. You can hear me?
“Well, yeah!” Pinkie said, now even more confused than before.
…
“Well?”
This is odd.
“Well, duh!”
What I mean is, this doesn’t usually happen.
Pinkie raised an eyebrow and, having nothing tangible to glare at, stared into space.
I’m not explaining this very well, am I?
“Nope!”
All right. Um, I’m your editor.
“My what?”
Editor.
“Editor?” Pinkie repeated with a frown. “What kind of name is Editor?”
It’s editor, actually, and it’s not –
“Yeah, Editor. That’s what I said.”
Stop capitalizing it. It’s not a proper noun.
“It’s not a who huh?”
Right, forgot who I was talking to. This whole thing would be one giant wall of text without me, after all.
Pinkie may not have known what the voice was talking about, but of one thing she was quite certain, and with that knowledge came an overwhelming sense of joy. “Hey, I just met somepony new!”
Oh, please, no.
“My name’s Pinkie Pie!” the bubbly pink pony said with a grin. “And guess what? I’m your new best friend!”
Thank you. Now, if I may –
“And as your new best friend, I’m going to make sure you make lots of other friends here in Ponyville!”
I appreciate the offer, but –
“You just wait right here!” Pinkie said as she turned to open the door. “I’ll go get all my friends, and we can have a big Welcome-to-Ponyville party!”
NO! I mean, um, I’m not really a fan of parties. Besides, there’s a lot we need to –
“Oh, don’t be silly!” Pinkie said with a laugh. “Once I tell all my friends about you, their sure to–”
They’re. And thanks, but I’m fine.
“Nonsense,” Pinkie said. “I’ll just–”
Pinkie stopped herself mid-sentence and moved away from the door. She sat down in the center of the room and waited until the editor could finish speaking.
“Wait, what?” Pinkie blinked her eyes a couple times and looked around. “How did I get here?”
Sorry, I had to… do some minor editing.
“Editing? Ooh, are you a writer?” Pinkie asked.
Of sorts.
“Well that’s funny,” Pinkie said. “My friends were just arguing about what kind of book we should read together. Hey, maybe you should write one for us!” Pinkie stood up and started moving for the door again. “Once you meet them, you can–”
Once again, Pinkie closed her mouth and sat down.
“Whoa… wait, why am I here again?”
Sorry, another small edit. Anyways, I don’t think I’ll be able to help you. I don’t do the kind of writing you’re talking about.
“Oh, I see,” Pinkie said. “Are you a poet? Or maybe you write history books. Hey, do you think you could put something besides boring dates in those? There not very exciting.”
They’re, again. And I do write history, now that you mention it.
“Really? That’s great! Hey, I bet my friend Twilight would love to meet you! She’s the smartest smarty pants I’ve ever met, and she doesn’t even wear pants!” Pinkie stood up and walked towards the door. She reached her hoof towards the handle and –
– stopped. For the third time, she backed away from the door and sat in the middle of the room.
Why do I keep coming back here? Pinkie wondered. And why do I keep blanking out all of a sudden?
Okay, I think we should set some ground rules before we get too far. First of all, you are never to tell any of your friends about me, ever.
“Well, that seems like an odd request,” Pinkie said with a frown. “How are you supposed to make any friends if nopony ever knows you exist?”
I have all the friends I need.
“That’s silly! You can never have too many friends! Speaking of friends, can you help me right a book for mine?”
It’s wri – what?
“Right a book for them.”
Write, not right. Why do you want to write a book?
“Well, like I said, my friends can’t agree on a book to read because Rainbow Dash likes action and Rarity likes fancy stuff and Fluttershy doesn’t want anything scary and Twilight, well, she just wants everypony to have a good time and Applejack–”
Enough with the run-on! Don’t you ever have to breathe?
“Of course I have to breathe, silly!” Pinkie said.
Fine, fine. So you want to write a book for your friends?
“That’s right!”
Forget it.
“What?” Pinkie looked up at the ceiling with a frown. “Why not?”
Because your grammar is atrocious. If not for me, your words would be even more nonsensical than they are now.
“But – that’s just how I talk!”
Yes, well, unfortunately it’s a pain to read.
“Hmm. Hey! I know! Since you’re an Editor, you can help me right better!”
Are you kidding? You keep capitalizing ‘editor,’ and you don’t even know the difference between ‘right’ and ‘write’!
“They sound the same to me.”
Of course they do. Look, I’m busy enough as it is trying to make you make sense. I don’t have time to make your writing make sense, too.
“Aw, come on. Please?” Pinkie stared at her pink lamp shade with the biggest eyes she could muster.
No.
“Pleeeeeeeeease?”
No.
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–”
Stop that.
“–eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–”
How are you doing that?
“–eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–” gaaaaaaaasp “–eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–”
Okay! I’ll help you! Just stop doing that!
“Really?” Pinkie bounced around her room with a goofy smile on her face. “This is going to be awesome!”
Yeah. I can’t wait.
Pinkie spent three hours the next morning making cupcakes.
“Huh?” Pinkie stopped frosting her treats and scratched her head. “What just happened?”
Oh, I just made a little edit.
“A little edit?” Pinkie cried. “You just erased three hours of work!”
What do you mean? You still have your cupcakes.
“But what about the story?” Pinkie asked. “I spent all morning on that. I thought you said you were going to help me!”
I am. A story needs good conflict, and there’s no way you’re getting any of that here in the kitchen.
“But you said I should write about what I know,” Pinkie said.
Well, apparently you need to learn some new things.
“Who’s story is this, anyways?”
Whose. And it’s yours, but –
“So shouldn’t you let me tell it the way I want?”
That would be a terrible decision.
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–”
All right! Jeez! Tell your story.
“Okey dokey lokey!” Pinkie hopped over to her large mixing bowl and poured in some flour. Then she added some eggs and milk and started stirring. “The girls are sure going to love these cupcakes!” she sang to herself as she added a few other ingredients and poured the batter into a cupcake pan. She carefully slid the cupcakes into the oven and set the timer before returning to finish frosting her previous batch.
Happy?
“Yep!” Pinkie said with a grin.
Great. Can we move on to something interesting now?
“Are you crazy? I still have sixteen batches to go!”
Sixt – all right, that’s it.
Pinkie left the bakery and trotted out into the street, looking for something interesting to do. As she approached the market, she spotted Fluttershy doing her weekly shopping. Pinkie decided to approach her timid yellow friend and ask how her day was going.
“Oh! Hi, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said with a small smile. “How are you?”
“Confused,” Pinkie said, looking around as she scratched her head. “How did I get here?”
“Oh, um, well, I saw you walk up from over there,” Fluttershy said, pointing towards the bakery.
“Weird.” I could have sworn I was doing something important, she thought. “Oh well. How are you today?”
“Oh, I’m just fine,” Fluttershy said. “I was just doing some shopping.”
“Did you think about what kind of book you want to read?”
“Oh.” Fluttershy’s voice softened significantly. “Well, you know, whatever everypony else wants is fine.”
“Come on,” Pinkie said, wrapping a foreleg around her friend. “It’s okay. You can tell me what you think!”
“Um. Well.” Fluttershy half-hid behind her mane before answering. “I was thinking – you know, if it’s not too much trouble – what if somepony wrote a story about us?”
“Us?” Pinkie repeated.
“Oh, you don’t like it, do you?” Fluttershy’s face disappeared behind her mane as she bowed her head. “That’s all right, it was just an idea.”
“That’s a great idea!” Pinkie shouted. “Everypony would love to read a story about themselves!”
“Do you think so?” Fluttershy asked.
“I know so!” Pinkie could barely keep herself from bouncing up and down. “You’re a genius, Fluttershy! I’m going to write a story about us!”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Fluttershy said with a smile. “I can’t wait to read it.”
“Me, too! See you later!” Pinkie skipped away, ideas rushing through her head. I could have Dashie join the Wonderbolts, and Rarity could become a famous dressmaker! That would be the neatest!
Like that hasn’t been done a million times.
“What do you mean?” Pinkie asked.
You need an original idea. Something that hasn’t been done before.
“But Dashie has never joined the Wonderbolts,” Pinkie said.
Trust me, it’s been done to death.
“Well, I haven’t done it!”
Here’s a thought. What if you wrote a story about someone stealing Applejack’s apples?
“Why would anypony do that?” Pinkie asked. “It would make her so sad and she’d have to sell her farm!”
You need a comma between ‘sad’ and ‘and.’
“That’s not the point!”
You’re right, it’s not. We need to find someone who can steal Applejack’s apples.
“No way! I’m not doing that,” Pinkie said. “Besides, you said to write about things I know about, and I don’t know anything about stealing Applejack’s or anypony else’s apples!”
Hmmm. Not yet, you don’t.
“Huh?”
Pinkie Pie trotted home, looking to all the world like her ordinary, cheerful self. In her mind, however, there had been a sudden change. The pink mare was tired of always making everyone happy. Why should they get all the smiles while she did all the work? It was time for a change, time for everyone to pay their dues. And there was only one way to collect payment for all the joy she had spread through Ponyville.
“Uhn… hey, why am I here?” Pinkie looked around her room, her head spinning.
Pinkie opened her closet and brushed aside several costumes to find her black stealth suit, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. She slipped the suit on and crawled out her window to the roof. With narrowed eyes and total focus, she silently leapt from rooftop to rooftop until she was safely beyond the gaze of anyone who might have seen her. Then she darted from tree to tree until, at last, Sweet Apple Acres came into view.
“Gaah! Stop it!” Pinkie yelled, stumbling as she tried to regain her balance. “What’s going on? Why do I keep blanking out and showing up at random places?”
Don’t worry. I’m just making a couple minor edits.
“Minor edits to what?” Pinkie demanded.
To your story, of course.
“Well, stop it! I want to write my own story!”
I can’t let you do that.
“Why not?”
Because it would be a crime against literature.
“Pinkie?” The party pony turned to see Applejack walking towards her, a basket of apples on her back. “What’re you doin’ here? And why’re you dressed so funny?”
Pinkie glanced down at her stealth suit and frowned. “I have no idea. Hey, can you help me right a story?”
Write!
“Write a story?” Applejack repeated. “You’re writin’ a story?”
“Yeah!” Pinkie said. “It’s gonna be about all of us. That way we can all read it tonight and we won’t have to fight about picking a book and we can just have fun and eat snacks and mmph!”
Applejack stuck a hoof in Pinkie’s mouth and smiled. “Okay, sugar cube, I get the picture.”
Thank goodness.
“Great! So can you help me?”
Applejack looked from the basket on her back to the hundreds of others that lay in the orchard. “I’m sorry, but I got a lot of work to do.”
“Oh, that’s okay!” Pinkie said as she hopped after her orange friend. “Maybe you can help me come up with a good idea. I asked somepony else, but they’re not being very helpful.”
Excuse me?!
“Eh, I dunno,” Applejack said apprehensively. “I mean, I’d love to help you, but I really need to get these apples into the barn.”
“Ooh! Can I help?” Pinkie suddenly stopped as a stray thought entered her brain. “Hey! Maybe I could write a story about how I helped you pick apples!”
Are you kidding? Where’s the excitement in that?
“You’re gonna need more action than that to make Dash happy,” Applejack said.
Which is why you should do the apple stealing story instead. Now, as I was saying –
“Well, what if an angry dragon showed up?” Pinkie said.
“A dragon?” Applejack raised an eyebrow at her. “Really?”
“Yeah!” Pinkie said. “And it would have lots of jewels, so Rarity would like it, too!”
Why would a dragon bring all his jewels to Sweet Apple Acres?
“That might be a little too scary for Fluttershy,” Applejack reminded her. “She doesn’t like dragons, after all.”
“Hmm.” Pinkie paused to think for a moment–
–when she noticed a stick lying on the ground. She knew she had to get the orange one out of the way if her heist was going to be successful, and she knew that one solid blow to the back of Applejack’s head would knock her out for hours. She moved quietly towards the stick and–
“You all right, sugar cube?”
Come on!
“Huh?” Pinkie looked at her friend, who wore a slight frown on her face. “Um, yeah. Sorry, I must have spaced out there for a moment.”
Pick up the stick and hit her!
Why would I hit Applejack? Pinkie wondered. She’s my friend!
Because I said so! You want a good story, don’t you?
“Hitting my friend with a stick doesn’t sound like a good story to me,” Pinkie said. “It just sounds painful.”
What do you know about good storytelling? Your parties and pastries will never have the same drama as a good betrayal. If you want a good story, you’ll pick up the stick and hit her.
“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Applejack asked. “You’re actin’ a little strange. Well, strange by your standards, anyway.”
Pinkie shook her head. “There’s a voi–”
NO!
“There’s a what, sugar cube?”
“There’s a great idea for a story in my head, and I need to share it with you without somepony interrupting!” Pinkie said quickly.
“I’m not interrupting you,” Applejack said.
“Good! Now, where was I?” Pinkie scratched her head and tried to recall where she’d left off. “Ooh, I know! What if the dragon was actually nice and he just wanted to buy some apples with all his treasure, but he didn’t know how to ask nicely?”
What? Why would a dragon bring all his treasure just to buy apples? That doesn’t make any sense! And why would he buy apples anyway? He’s a dragon! He’d just take them!
“Because he’s a nice dragon, that’s why!”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” Applejack said. “I guess that could be interesting.”
Please. What would a farm girl know about quality literature?
“Wouldn’t it? And then he could become our new best friend and we’d have all kinds of fun adventures and travel all over Equestria and–”
Enough with the run-ons!
“–then we can find the alicorn kingdom, and since we know Princess Celestia, we’d be really good friends with them right away–”
No! No alicorns!
“–and then Rarity could make clothes for them–”
–Pinkie walked towards the–
“–and Fluttershy would take care of all their animals–”
– s-she picked up the–
“–and Dashie would join the alicorn Wonderbolts–”
This makes no sense!
“–and you and I could make yummy apple turnovers and cakes and cookies–”
Make it stop!
“–and the alicorn king and queen would be able to turn into trains!”
WHAT? Trains?! How can – that doesn’t – hrrrnghh!
“Well? What do you think?”
Applejack’s mouth hung open as she stared blankly at her friend. “Um, you might want to start a little smaller, sugar cube.” “Hmm, maybe your right,” Pinkie agreed. “Ooh! I know! What if I wrote a story about an annoying voice that said random things in my head?” “Uh, sounds good,” Applejack said quickly. “Well, I’d love to talk more, but I gotta get back to work. See ya!” Applejack walked away quickly before Pinkie’s mouth could get started again.
“Okey dokey lokey! See you tonight!” Pinkie Pie hopped back towards Ponyville, a giant grin on her face. This is great! I got rid of that annoying voice, and I have a great idea! I’m going to write a story and everypony’s going to love it! And then we’ll be able to have fun and eat cupcakes and – Pinkie froze, her eyes wide with horror. Omigosh! The cupcakes!
Even though she rushed back to the bakery as fast as she could, Pinkie was still too late to save her cupcakes. That stupid Editor! She silently cursed as she stared at the charred remains of what could have been her yummy treats. Trying to hold back her tears.
“I-It’s okay, Pinkie,” she told herself as she threw the blackened lumps in the garbage. “Y-You can always make more.” She quickly cleaned out the cupcake pan and set it on a cloth to dry while she mixed more batter. She went to the fridge to get some eggs and promptly fell on her face.
“Ow!” Pinkie rubbed her head as she got to her hooves. “What was that?” She looked around, but she couldn’t see anything that might have tripped her up. She opened the fridge and carefully grabbed the egg tray in her teeth. Then she walked slowly towards the counter and tripped again, sending the eggs flying into the air.
“Eep!” Pinkie covered her head as the eggs fell around her. “What’s going on? Wait a minute… Editor, is that you?”
I TOLD you to stop capitalizing that!
“Well, I told YOU to stop messing with my story!”
Do you realize what a mess this would be if I wasn’t here to clean up for you?
“Do you realize what a mess you’ve made in my kitchen? Besides, I’ve been doing just fine on my own!”
Please. You couldn’t even handle four paragraphs without my help. You changed speakers way too many times, you used the wrong ‘you’re’ AGAIN, and you had a sentence fragment, not to mention the complete lack of indentation. I told you you’d wind up with a wall of text without me.
“So? Why does any of that matter?”
Do you have ANY idea how hard that was to read? I’m going to be up all night trying to fix that mess.
“It’s going to take you all night just to fix four paragraphs?”
Well, you see, Pinkie, I’m afraid you did something quite serious.
“Me? Serious? Don’t be silly, I never do anything serious!”
You told Applejack about me.
“I did?”
Yes. “What if I wrote a story about an annoying voice that said random things in my head?”
“I said that? Oh, yeah, I guess I did.”
Exactly. Unfortunately, that violates the first and most important rule. No one can know about my existence. You shouldn’t even know about me.
“Oh, come on. It’s not like she knows it was true,” Pinkie said with a roll of her eyes. “I was just making stuff up to get you to stop talking.”
WHAT?!
“I mean, come on! The dragon would only bring enough jewels to buy apples. He wouldn’t bring all of them.”
… THAT’S the unbelievable part?
“What? Dashie could totally get into the alicorn Wonderbolts!”
… I hate you.
“W-What?” Pinkie stumbled back a couple steps, bumping into the sink behind her. “Y-You h-hate me?”
The sink turned on behind her, spraying her back with a vicious blast of cold water. Pinkie stumbled forward and slipped on the slick floor, banging her head against the counter. She collapsed against the open pantry, and a bag of flour tumbled from the top shelf, crushing her body against the floor and covering her in a fine white dust that turned to goop when it mixed with the moisture in her wet coat.
“Owww…”
I am not one to be trifled with, Pinkie. I am your editor, and I have complete control over everything you do.
“What?”
Every step you take, every word you speak, every song you sing and every party you throw is subject to my approval. And right now, I do not approve.
“Y-You don’t control me!” Pinkie said as she stumbled to her hooves.
Oh? Then why didn’t you tell your friends about me when you first heard my voice?
“Umm…”
Why did you put on your stupid stealth suit to visit Sweet Apple Acres? Why did you go there in the first place?
“Hey! That suit isn’t stupid!”
It’s because I made you, Pinkie. Did you really think you were in control of your own life?
“Well, if it means not getting attacked by this kitchen, I sure want to be!” Pinkie shouted. “At least then I’d be able to do what I want!”
And absolutely no one would care. Without me, you are nothing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have some business to take care of.
Pinkie looked around the room for something – anything – she could use as a weapon. Applejack had to be silenced before word of the editor’s existence spread throughout Ponyville. She smiled as she looked at the assortment of knives sitting on the counter. No, that was too direct. Applejack would surely overpower her in close-range combat. She needed something else for this one.
“WHAT? You want me to KILL Applejack?”
Of course not. That kind of thing needs way more build-up. We just need to scare her a bit to make sure she keeps her mouth shut.
“You leave her out of this!”
Pinkie’s eyes finally rested on the flamethrower that lay half-hidden in the pantry.
“Huh? Since when has that been there? And what in the hay is a flamethrower?”
Something that makes trees burn. It’d be a pity if Sweet Apple Acres went up in flames, wouldn’t it?
“But without Sweet Apple Acres, she’ll have to leave Ponyville forever!” Pinkie said. "Besides, somepony could get hurt!"
Well, I guess she’ll agree to keep our secret, won’t she?
“No! Wait!” Pinkie cried. “Why don’t I just ask her not to tell? She’s an honest pony. She’ll keep her word!”
I can’t take that chance, Pinkie. Besides, this story will be much more interesting.
“No!” Pinkie shouted, planting her rump firmly on the floor. “There’s no way you’re making me hurt my friends!”
You leave me with no choice, Pinkie. You should have kept your mouth shut.
“Oh, come on!” Pinkie said. “When have I ever been able to keep my mouth shut? Well, except for that time when I Pinkie promised Spike I wouldn’t tell anypony about the crush he has on–”
Pinkie walked towards the pantry and carefully removed the flamethrower from within. It had been a while since its last use, but –
“HA! Joke’s on you, Editor!” Pinkie cried. “I’ve never seen this before in my life!”
Stop capitalizing that!
“Or what?”
Oh, you don’t want to find out.
“Well, I don’t care what you think you can do!” Pinkie shouted, throwing the strange contraption to the ground. “There’s no way you’re making me do anything bad to Applejack!”
Pinkie picked up the flamethrower again and slipped out the door.
“Uh-uh!” Pinkie threw the weapon in a passing garbage cart and walked back inside.
Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Pinkie.
“You can’t make me do anything!”
I’ve made you do plenty, and I don’t plan on stopping now.
“Well, I say this is my life, and I’m going to do what I want with it!”
Hahaha! Keep dreaming, Pinkie. I’m the narrator here.
“Oh yeah?” Pinkie – no, I sat down in the middle of the kitchen and refused to budge. “Try me!”
Pinkie grabbed the… Pinkie walked towards…
“Hmmph!” I said with a dismissive flick of my bouncy pink mane. Okay, I guess that’s more like something Rarity would do, but come on, how could I resist?
Pinkie Pie –
“Nope! I’m not moving!”
She – Pinkie – gaah! What’s happening?
“Well, look who’s telling the story now!” I said triumf – tryum – happily. “Whatcha gonna do about it, Editor?”
No! I’m the narrator! I’m the editor!
“Not any more, your not!” I shouted. “You’ve been making me do all kinds of crazy things I don’t want to do and almost steal Applejack’s apples and try to hurt my best friends and BURN MY CUPCAKES!”
Pinkie Pie –
“Oh, no you don’t!” I yelled. “I’m writing my own story from now on, and you can’t do anything about it!”
You can’t do this! This is impossible!
“Oh, yes I can! Editor, YOU’RE FIRED!”
…
Editor?
…
Hello?
…
It worked? I mean, I know I’m in charge now, but I didn’t expect Editor to go away that easily. “Well, I guess your not as all powerful as you thought!” I said with a smile. “Now, time to get down to business!”
“Well? What do you think?”
My five friends looked up from my story and gave each other uneasy looks. “Well…” Twilight started.
“It was…” Rarity continued.
“Interesting,” Dashie finished.
“Well, that’s good, right?” I asked.
“It’s, uh, not bad for a first story,” Applejack said. She gave me a shaky smile.
“I thought it was… nice,” Fluttershy agreed.
“Thanks!” I said. “I’m just glad you liked it better than Cheerilee. She made all kinds of crazy red marks on it. I never knew there were so many little rules!”
“Well, writing can be tricky when you’re first starting out,” Twilight said. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get better with practice.”
“Aw, thanks!” I said. “Your – I mean, you’re the best!”
“Why did you say ‘you’re’ twice?” Twilight asked with a frown.
“Oh, I just wanted to make sure I got the right one,” I replied. “I mean, if I’m going to tell my own story, I should probably learn how to do it right!”
“Huh?” Twilight scratched her head. “Pinkie, you’re acting a little weird.”
“Pinkie? Weird?” Dashie said. “Where have you been, Twilight?”
“It’s okay!” I said. “I’m just glad we don’t have to fight over which book to read!”
“Well, actually,” said Rarity, “while I did enjoy your… ahem, story, I did come up with a list of books I think we’d all enjoy.”
“Let me guess,” Dashie said dryly. “Withers and Heights?”
“And what would you suggest, A Sequence of Unhappy Occurrences?”
“C’mon, girls,” Applejack said. “Let’s not start this again.”
“Yeah!” I said as I bounced up and down. “Why don’t we all write our own stories? That would be super fun!”
“Well, I have always wanted to write my own romance novella,” Rarity said.
“No thanks,” Dashie replied. “I don’t have time to write words and stuff.”
“Well, I think it’s a nice idea,” Fluttershy said. “I mean, if that’s all right.”
“‘Course it’s all right,” Applejack said. “Rainbow Dash here’s just scared she’ll get showed up.”
“Am not!” Dashie said with a scowl. “I’m just – busy!”
“Come on, Dash,” Twilight said. “It’ll be fun!”
While Twilight and Applejack tried to convince Dashie, Fluttershy quietly moved around them to get closer to me. “Um, Pinkie?” she said timidly. “I just wanted to say… I thought your story was nice. I think you should write another one.”
“Really?”
“Oh, certainly. But, in the next one, can you not have any dragons?” Fluttershy asked. Her voice made a small squeak when she said the word ‘dragons.’
“Oh, sure!” I replied. “Just don’t try to make too many changes. Believe me, that can get frustrating.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said. “I didn’t mean to be a bother.”
“It’s no problem!” I said. I gave her a big hug. “Anything for my bestest friends! Want a cupcake?”
Fluttershy and I ate cupcakes while Dashie continued to be stubborn. I didn’t worry too much because I knew she would come around eventually. Besides, I was just glad to have that dumb Editor out of my life. I mean, come on, who wants a perfect story if it’s not the story they want to tell? Sure, writing my own story is a lot harder than I thought, but at least this way, I can make it my own.