One of Pinkie’s favorite places to stop for a rest had always been the Ponyville Park. Not that she often had the time and inclination to sit still for very long, but on those occasions the park was a great place to be because it was always so full of life. Ponies playing, or getting some exercise, or just taking a quiet stroll with a friend – no matter what the reason, there was no better place in Ponyville to sit and watch happy ponies pass by.

She had come to the park and settled on her bench because she thought it would lift her spirits, but in all honesty it had accomplished the opposite. Sure, there were just as many ponies as before, but they were all just copies. Three Pinkies chatting on a picnic blanket under an oak tree. Another Pinkie flying a kite, the string clamped firmly in her teeth. A final pair practicing hoofsprings and silly gymnastic exercises on the soft grass.

Each sight of another Pinkie with some new number on her flank made the real Pinkie cringe. It just wasn’t right. She loved her friends so much, and she never hesitated in going out of her way to help them with their problems. These were not her friends. Her friends were all special ponies, unique and mysterious in their own ways. That’s what made being around them so fun!

These ponies were just imitations – imitations of a pony that Pinkie had secretly always worried wasn’t very interesting to begin with. A pony that had always tried to be friends with everypony because she couldn’t stand the idea of just being friends with herself.

To add insult to injury, they weren’t even very good imitations. At first Pinkie just thought she had been imagining things, but once she had started looking more carefully at the other ponies, she had confirmed it: they were all flawed.

Sometimes it was something minor, like a lighter shade of mane or a notch in one ear. Sometimes it was much more noticeable – while on her way over to the cafe, she passed by a pony with the build and features of a stallion, despite still sharing her same colors. She could swear she had even seen a pony earlier on that was white instead of pink, but the surprisingly colorless pony had ducked into an alley, trying to stay out of sight.

Now that she had noticed, she found her eyes instinctively drawn to the oddities. The kite-flying pony’s teeth were set in a noticeable overbite. One of the ponies trying to do a hoofstand was dappled with a slightly lighter pink, while the other was several inches too short in height. It was almost a game in itself, like a huge spot-the-difference.

Still, none of them were her friends. What she wouldn’t give to see Roseluck or Daisy or Sea Swirl! Just the sight of one normal pony, was that too much to ask? Not even one of her bestest, most awesomest friends. It hurt to even think about them.

A nasty thought floated up into her head. Why couldn’t it have been somepony else stuck here? Pinkie grimaced. That wasn’t really fair, but... they would be so much better equipped to deal with this sort of problem.

Twilight was so super duper brilliant that she could work out some sort of magic spell in an hour, tops. She’d probably just stick around for a while longer to study all these weird Pinkies in the name of science. Rainbow Dash would have zoomed to Canterlot and found Princess Celestia before you could say ‘Wonderbolts’. Applejack wasn’t quite as fast but once she made up her mind about something, she was unstoppable. Strong, tough, and stubborn.

Even Rarity and Fluttershy had their own ways of handling problems, as Pinkie knew all too well. Rarity would throw a complete fit at having to deal with so many silly ponies that were all... How did she put it, again? Fundamentally incapable of appreciating haute couture? Just because Pinkie got a tiiiny bit of chocolate pudding on her Gala dress. Anyways, the point was that Rarity could conjure up such a whirlwind of drama that these weird ponies would ask her permission to put things back to normal.

And Fluttershy. Her genuine niceness and adorablosity added up to a killer combination of cute, and in the rare cases where those failed... Well, out of all her friends, Fluttershy was the scariest when pushed into a corner. Plus, y’know, she had wings.

Pinkie was just a silly earth pony good at throwing parties and cheering up friends. Her friends were gone, and it’s not like there’d be any point to a party now. She sighed.

If only she had a tenth of the abilities of her amazing friends. If only she could do magic or kick through walls or fly...

Her wistful gaze landed on something purple drifting in over the treetops.

Huh.

There was an idea. Who said you needed wings to be able to fly?

Pinkie watched the hot-air balloon come to a landing from a conveniently placed bush, enduring scratchy leaves in exchange for the privacy the hiding spot afforded. She was not particularly surprised to see that one of the two passengers was Number Two, though it did cause her to wonder about the purpose of a balloon trip in the first place.

Two didn’t seem interested in hanging around. She trotted off briskly, the annoying uneven smirk still present on her face. That left the other pony to make sure the balloon was safely moored.

Unfortunately, that pony, a number Forty-One, didn’t seem as inclined to leave. After tying down the balloon with some secure-looking knots, she marched a full circle around it. Each step was a deliberate, crisp movement, legs drawn up high and then kicked out vigorously in an approximation of a military gait.

The overall effect of martial competence was lost when she kicked a little too hard, throwing her off balance enough to cause her to fall right onto her nose. Pinkie stifled a giggle, as Forty-One swung her head from side to side worriedly to see if anyone had witnessed her mistake.

Thankfully, the bush provided good enough cover to evade detection, and Forty-One slunk back to the front of the balloon, nothing wounded except her pride. She stood at attention, directly blocking entry to the hot-air balloon’s basket.

Pinkie frowned, silently willing the guard to leave. Unfortunately, it appeared as if the balloon was kept guarded, which was disappointing but not surprising. This might be a little tricky. Pinkie tapped the side of her head with a hoof, trying to kick her brain into high gear.

“We’re going to need a really good plan,” Pinkie’s voice said.

Pinkie nodded. A really good one, particularly since she didn’t want to lose the element of surprise. It might be possible to talk her way into a balloon ride, but if she failed, they might start guarding it even more.

“What have we got to work with?” Pinkie’s voice asked.

Pinkie rubbed her chin. Not a whole lot – and not just in terms of supplies. Most importantly, she didn’t have any information: who the guard was, whether she was nice or mean, how susceptible she was to bribery via baked goods. The important stuff. It sure was a lot easier to deal with ponies when you were friends with them.

“We’ll just have to improvise,” Pinkie’s voice said. “That’s okay. I’m good at improvising.”

Pinkie paused. She was? I mean, sure, she was, but this situation was a little more serious than usual, and considerably more confusing. This pony Forty-One may even have been told that Pinkie was trying to escape, and might try to seize her on sight. It would do to be a little more cautious—

“By the way, what are we doing?” Pinkie’s voice said.

Pinkie realized something. Normally her voice was inside her head. Not coming from right next to her left ear. She slowly tilted her head to the side to see another pink pony sitting in the bush next to her.

Pinkie flailed back in shock, falling off balance and landing on her side, as the bush rustled loudly. She froze, as she caught sight of Forty-One suspiciously peering in their direction. A long moment passed, seeming like an eternity as Pinkie remained completely still. Finally Forty-One shook her head and turned to stare straight forward again.

Looking up, she saw the pony in the bush with her convulsing with laughter, one hoof firmly jammed into her mouth to keep silent. The pony shook and shook as Pinkie glared at her disapprovingly. Finally she regained her composure and removed her hoof. “Snrk. You should have seen your face!” She noticed Pinkie’s stern frown and shrugged airily. “Lighten up! Can’t you take a joke?”

“It wasn’t that funny,” Pinkie grumbled. “Now, what do you want?”

“I want to help,” the other pony said. “Twenty-Nine at your service! But seriously. What kind of prank are we pulling?”

“It’s not a prank.” Pinkie sat back and crossed her forelegs. “I need to use that balloon.”

“So... you need the balloon for a prank? C’mon, why else are you being so sneaky about it?”

Pinkie shook her head. “It’s not a prank. I’m trying to—” Pinkie stopped suddenly, gazing at Twenty-Nine. She was definitely just another copy, alright. The electric blue highlights in her mane made her imperfection obvious, despite looking sorta snazzy. But looking into Twenty-Nine’s eyes, Pinkie could see nothing but genuine excitement. “I’m trying to escape,” she said, her voice dropping to be almost inaudible.

Twenty-Nine’s eyes widened and her face went blank. Then an eyebrow raised in confusion. Her mouth opened and closed, caught between different impulses. And then finally, her eyes lit up with stars.

“You too?” she whispered.

Pinkie crouched behind a trash can, having snuck her way a little closer to the hot-air balloon’s location. She glanced back and waved a hoof at Twenty-Nine, their signal for the plan. Pinkie’s tail swished back and forth and she forced herself to take a deep breath. So much of this plan depended on Twenty-Nine, and for such an important mission it included an uncomfortable amount of "just winging it", as the other mare cheerfully put it. Pinkie would just have to rely on Twenty-Nine’s greater experience here.

Twenty-Nine trotted up the path, winking at Pinkie as she passed by the trash can. She made her way right up to the base of the balloon, and Pinkie risked a peek around her hiding place. Forty-One was staring right at the smiling Twenty-Nine, as well as sweating profusely.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Forty-One said, taking a step back before bumping her flank into the balloon’s basket.

“Oh, I was juuuust looking for you!” Twenty-Nine chirped. She took another step forward to conclusively corner Forty-One.

“I’m on duty here!” Forty-One said. “I don’t have time for your pranks! I only just got the tree sap washed out of my tail from last time.”

Twenty-Nine pouted. “What if I just wanted to borrow the balloon for a while?”

“No way!” Forty-One exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously. “Number Two left me in charge here and I’ve got to be responsible.”

Twenty-Nine shrugged. “That’s okay. I really just wanted to tell you about this little idea I had. It involves a bee's nest, a well-positioned bucket of pollen, and a stuck-up bossy pony who lives in a library tree.”

“You mean...” Forty-One stared. “No way. You wouldn’t.”

Twenty-Nine batted her eyelashes. “I miiiight have already did.”

“Number Two? Are you crazy? I’ve got to go tell her!” Forty-One took a step forward, then froze, one hoof still in the air. “Waaait,” she said. “If I left, I’d be abandoning the balloon. And that might be what you wanted all along, huh? Well, I’m not going to fall for your tricks.”

Twenty-Nine put one hoof to her chest. “Tricks? Me?” She blinked innocently. “I just wanted to brag a little bit. What’s the point of pulling off the best prank ever if nopony knows about it? Well. I’m sure a lot of ponies are going to know about it in another fifteen minutes once Twoozy—”

“I...” Forty-One shuffled from hoof to hoof nervously. “You...”

Twenty-Nine flicked her tail. That was the signal. Pinkie nonchalantly rose from her hiding place and started to walk by, humming a happy song. As she drew near to the other two ponies, she slowed down, curiously glancing in their direction.

That was enough. Forty-One brightened up immediately, finally having been tossed a lifeline. “Oh, excuse me Ma’am,” she said. “I need your help!”

Pinkie turned and smiled, straining to keep her expression one of pleasant curiosity rather than satisfaction. “Sure!”

“I need you to run and find Number Two as fast as you can. She’s in terrible danger!”

Pinkie’s smile twitched as her mind raced. “Oh, but... I sprained my leg recently." She flexed one hind leg as she gave an exaggerated wince. "I’m only now getting it back into good enough shape to trot. If I were to gallop, I’d hurt it all over again!” Twenty-Nine nodded almost imperceptibly, approving the quick lie.

“But... I can’t. She might—”

“Hey, nice balloon!” Pinkie said quickly. “I bet it would be neat to fly, but it is too bad that I can’t stand heights.”

Forty-One’s eyes flashed and widened, and Pinkie could just about see the thoughts percolating in her head. One more push. “Oh well,” Pinkie said. “If you need me, I’ll be walking around the park. With all my work finished early today, I don’t have anything else to do.”

That was enough. Assisted by a large dose of desperation, the implied responsibility and free time were enough to outweigh lingering paranoid suspicion. “No, wait!” Forty-One said. “C-can you watch the balloon for me for a bit?”

Pinkie smiled cheerfully. “Of course, anything for a friend!” Twenty-Nine made a big show of grumbling darkly at the development, as if disappointed at having her plans foiled.

Forty-One took one last level stare at her, looking for any sign of deception, but the perceived urgency cut her efforts short. “Just wait here. Don’t touch anything.” She raised one hoof accusingly at Twenty-Nine. “And do not let this pony on the balloon.”

"I can assure you, that pony will absolutely not get on this balloon," Pinkie solemnly intoned, marching up to take position in front of the balloon. Forty-One didn't notice the corners of Pinkie's mouth twitching ever so slightly. Wasting no time, the guardspony turned to dash off in search of Number Two, not even looking back.

Pinkie waited until Forty-One was definitely out of sight before sighing with relief. “I can’t believe that worked!”

Twenty-Nine’s devious smirk grew alarmingly large. “She always falls for it. There’s nothing better than pranking somepony who’s a stick-in-the-mud like Forty-One. Some ponies take things way too seriously!”

Pinkie tilted her head. “Right...”

“But anyways!” Twenty-Nine turned to face Pinkie, her expression solemn. “You have to escape, and get help. I know you can do it. I believe in you!”

“You’re sure you won’t come with me?” Pinkie frowned with worry. “We could fit two in here, and I don’t know if you’ll be safe when they find out you helped me.”

Twenty-Nine waved a hoof dismissively. “My place is here. Bringing down the system from the inside, sister! I’ve lasted this long, I can survive.” She paused, and raised one hoof slowly, her eyes growing large and misty. “Just... just promise that you’ll come back for me.” Her voice was soft and fraught with emotion.

Pinkie swallowed, and firmly raised her hoof to meet Twenty-Nine’s. “I promise,” Pinkie said. “I will never forget this.”

A tremulous smile danced across Twenty-Nine’s face. “Then go. And hurry! You don’t have much time.”

Pinkie reluctantly turned to hop into the basket. She fiddled with the burner, turning it up slightly to cause the balloon to rise up, pulling the moorings taut. Looking out of the basket she saw Twenty-Nine busily untying all the ropes.

As the last rope loosened, the balloon surged up, the ground pulling further and further away.

“Never give up!” Twenty-Nine’s voice floated up with one last encouragement.

Pinkie blinked back tears and set her sights forward. She didn’t understand how or why, but she wasn’t alone, and the force of a friend’s confidence in her buoyed her spirits as she faced towards Canterlot.

Onward!

It did not take long before reality caught up with Pinkie’s excited expectations. The balloon rose, as balloons do. That vertical part, she had down, no problem. It just didn’t seem to want to go anywhere horizontally. The spires of Canterlot glittering in the distance taunted her by remaining resolutely out of reach.

This would be so much smoother with the help of a pegasus. How did Twilight make flying this thing look so easy?

Oh, wait. Magic, probably.

Without any magic or wings to rely on, Pinkie would have to use her brain. It was just a matter of finding the appropriate jetstream, if she remembered correctly. She’d keep going up until she hit a patch of wind that would send her in the right direction.

Pinkie was concentrating on this task when she happened to look back and catch sight of the clouds brewing over Everfree Forest. They were a dark, angry color, bordering on pitch black, and they swirled with energy as flashes of lightning occasionally lit up from within.

Picking up the pace, she turned up the burner, causing the balloon’s basket to jerk as it rose faster. Pinkie took a deep breath to calm herself down. This was actually good, right? If the storms were going towards her, she could ride the wave of wind right in front all the way to Canterlot. It wouldn’t necessarily be a comfortable trip, but it would get her there.

No winds came. As she stared at the thunderclouds, she could see them visibly growing closer, and the deep rumble of thunder grew ominously louder. Frantically she turned the burner down, then back up, the balloon alternately dropping and rising as she tried to find some altitude where she could get moving.

She stopped to peer over the side of the basket, a decision she immediately regretted. The ground was a long long way down, but from the sight of the park below, she hadn’t moved at all. She was dead in the air.

As if to prove her wrong, the basket tilted with a sudden strong gust, and she barely managed to avoid tumbling out. Pinkie pulled herself back in, clutching one of the ropes in a panicked grip. As soon as she had regained her balance, she realized the clouds that moments ago had been lurking in the depths of the Everfree were already upon the balloon.

They were no longer brooding. They were raging. She only had a moment before the closest inky mass surged forward to envelop her. The howling winds immediately threw the balloon, causing the basket to careen dangerously to the side. All traces of light were gone, the sun completely unable to pierce the thick nimbus.

The accompanying rain struck Pinkie like a physical blow, shockingly cold and forceful. In seconds, it had seeped through her coat to chill her to the very bone. Pinkie gritted her teeth and redoubled her grip as she tried to brace herself in the basket. Survival was more important than comfort. She could do this, just as long as—

With a blinding flash, a bolt of lightning cut through the sheets of rain to arc right past the balloon on its way to the ground. As it vanished, the thunder roared deafeningly, like cloudside seats to a sonic rainboom. An otherworldly stench rose unbidden, the strange acrid smell of burnt ozone.

Pinkie's eyes shot up, dreading damage to the balloon itself. It was an exercise in futility – from within the cloud she could barely see her hoof in front of her face.

She had to do something. But any pretense of agency had vanished into the tempestuous maelstrom of fate. The storm flung the balloon about wildly, bouncing it from one whirl of gale-force winds to the next. It was all Pinkie could do to hold on and keep from being thrown from the basket. She was completely at the mercy of the storm, the fiercest she had ever seen.

More lightning flashed around the balloon. Each accompanying explosion of sound physically rattled Pinkie with the reverberation. The torrents of rain never let up, swirled around from bursts of wind to strike from one direction, then another. Just as she prepared to shield her eyes or catch her breath, the wind would whip another barrage of frigid water from where she was least expecting.

Her grip on the balloon began to ever-so-slowly slip, rope in one hoof and side of the basket in the other both having grown dangerously slick.

Just when Pinkie thought she was at her breaking point, suddenly it all fell away. The balloon had been thrown into a pocket of still air, but on all sides she could see the roiling black clouds, ready to swallow her up once again.

She had this one opportunity. She could try to take the balloon down, and try to land somewhere while she had a chance to do so safely.

Or she could go up, straight back into the storm in the hope that she could push through and come out above the clouds. It would be a much more dangerous route, but one that had the chance of getting her through to Canterlot. If the storm didn’t kill her.

Pinkie didn’t hesitate. She reached for the burner and turned it up all the way, redoubling her grip as she prepared for another rough ride. The balloon jerked upwards.

Then the burner coughed and sputtered before going out entirely.

She was out of fuel.

Pinkie screamed as the balloon began to drop like a rock, the stormclouds swirling on all sides but not yet overtaking her. She frantically checked the connections between the burner and the fuel tank, kicking it lightly as she flicked the burner off and on.

It finally caught again, flaring to life to slow the descent to a manageable level, but the balloon was still inevitably dropping. Pinkie leaned over the side, eyes wide to see what was below her. There were trees – it would be more accurate to call it a crash site than a landing place, but it’d be softer than bare rock.

She braced herself for impact, as the ground rushed up.

The basket crashed into the upper branches of the tree, tilting precariously sideways as the balloon pressed down from above. With another shriek, Pinkie tumbled from the basket through a series of leafy branches that served to slow her fall.

With one final thump that jarred her bones and knocked the wind out of her, Pinkie landed on the ground below the tree.

Groaning with the sharp pain of the impact, she writhed in the dirt. After getting over the initial shock of her sudden landing, she wiggled her hooves and tail. At least they all seemed to be there.

She gritted her teeth and shakily stood up, wincing with the feeling of bruises already setting in. As her vision stopped spinning, she saw two ponies waiting for her.

“Really, Six?” Number Two said reproachfully. “You’re s’posed to put things back when you’re done using them, that way other ponies can get a turn too!” She gestured to the dock where the balloon was usually kept. With a sinking feeling Pinkie realized that she had managed to travel a grand total of fifty feet to land in a tree still within sight of where the balloon had been tied. The park was just as it had been only a brief time earlier, and a glance up into the sky showed only a few wisps of clouds quickly retreating.

The other pony was grinning madly at Pinkie. “I can’t believe you actually did that!” Number Twenty-Nine said. “And that you thought you could actually go anywhere! You are one crazy pony, you know that?”

“But... you...” Pinkie’s jaw fell open. “You said you were trying to escape too!”

Twenty-Nine dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Th–snrk–the look on your face right now! I can’t believe you actually believed all that.” She stood straight up, eyes open wide and mouth pursed. “Promise that you’ll come back for me,” she whispered, before her solemn expression broke into a huge grin. Twenty-Nine dramatically raised one hoof to her forehead and fell backwards, rolling around on the ground while laughing madly.

Pinkie froze, color draining from her face.

“Enough, you’re making her feel bad,” Two said, though she didn't bother to hide her own smirk. “Six, I was looking for you. I know it's been tough, and you're still adjusting, so...” Her eyes twinkled as she presented an invitation to Pinkie.

Pinkie stared down at the piece of paper.

You are INVITED!!

To the CHEER UP SIXIE mega-super-bash!

Tonight!! Sweet Apple Acres!

There will be music and snacks and fun!

By order!!!

She looked back up at the crooked smile of Number Two.

“I know it’s last minute, but I do hope you can make it.”

Pinkie poked at her salad glumly. It was a perfectly good salad, and that’s what really annoyed her. It should be some sort of eeeevil salad, one that screamed when you ate it. Or that piece of lettuce should be covering blinking eyeballs instead of cherry tomatoes. Or it should have thousand island dressing on it. Y’know, something to confirm that it came from crazy malevolent ponies that had stolen away her friends and trapped her in this town.

Instead, it was just a normal salad. Nothing special, but not bad either.

Pinkie sighed and poked at a piece of lettuce with her nose again, not feeling hungry.

“Is it not good? Do you want something else?”

Pinkie looked up to see the waitress watching with a concerned frown. “No, no, I’m just... saving room for dessert?”

A wide smile appeared on the waitress’s face. “That I can understand! You know what? Let me see if we have any more chocolate-strawberry surprisecake in the back. I won’t ruin the surprise, but it maaay have something to do with chocolate and strawberries. Hee!”

It was a nice gesture. If these ponies were trying to force her to give up on her friends, they were going about it in a very strange way. Maybe that was the point though – wearing her down through kindness? Or just causing her to drop her guard.

Either way, it would take more than sweets to get to Pinkie Pie.

Although... cake did sound a little bit tantalizing.

There was an idea: she would just eat all their delicious confections while standing firm, so that way they would fail to persuade her and have less cake for themselves. Truly a decisive strike in the battle against evil. Yes, that would work.

The waitress must have noticed Pinkie’s devious smile, because she trotted away towards the kitchen, humming to herself. As she turned to go, Pinkie immediately noticed the specific strangeness about her. The waitress’s tail was half the length it should be, the poofy fuchsia hair forming a short bob rather than a normal gloriously tangled cascade. She stared idly as the curly hair twitched back and forth as the waitress walked.

“Sixie! That’s rude, you know?”

"Eep!" Pinkie jumped in place as she turned back to see Thirty-Three across the table, munching happily on the remnants of a daisy sandwich. This popping-up-out-of-nowhere trick was a lot less fun for the victim. “H-how long have you been here?” Pinkie asked.

Thirty-Three shrugged. “I just saw you and figured you looked like you needed a friend! So, here I am! Also, are you going to eat all that?”

Pinkie pushed the bowl of salad forward and Thirty-Three immediately started inhaling it. A friend, huh? Yeah, that’s exactly what she needed. Pinkie sighed. Again her mind drifted in that direction. If only her friends were here...

“But your friends are here,” Thirty-Three chirped. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Pinkie realized she must have vocalized her previous thought. “That’s not what I mean,” she said, slightly annoyed. “I mean my real friends.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Thirty-Three immediately deployed a killer pair of puppy-dog eyes, on the verge of releasing a torrent of tears. A creeping guilt welled up in Pinkie’s chest, despite reservations that her head still held about the other pony. “No, I mean—” She bit her lip. “Sure, you can be my friend too, but it’s not the same. I mean Twilight Sparkle and Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy and Rarity.”

Thirty-Three cocked her head to the side in bafflement. “Who?”

“My friends. From before I ended up here.”

The smile on Thirty-Three’s face was decidedly uncertain. “Sure, I mean, sometimes when my other friends are all busy I may throw a party with Sir Lintsalot and Madame le Flour, but trust me, playing with real ponies is much more—”

“They are not imaginary!” Pinkie exclaimed loudly. A sudden hush fell over the cafe tables as the other patrons turned to look at Pinkie and Thirty-Three. Blushing, her head sunk down to rest on the table. “They’re not.”

Thirty-Three reached across to sympathetically pat Pinkie’s shoulder. “Sure thing, Sixie. Look, maybe you just need a really good party? I’m sure you could make tons of friends if you were a little less mopey and a little more hopey?”

“I don’t want new friends,” Pinkie grumbled. “I want my old ones.”

Thirty-Three scrunched up her forehead, trying to think of something reassuring. She was clearly a little uncomfortable at having to deal with an unhappy pony. “Well. What would your old friends want you to do, then? Wouldn’t they say that you should stop worrying so much? Maybe just try to make some new friends?”

Pinkie responded with a single short laugh. Yeah, right! She could imagine Applejack’s reaction to all these lying ponies. It would be considerably less charitable than she normally tended to be – Applejack had no patience for crooks, cheats, and liars. Nope, she would want Pinkie to...

Well, Applejack would want her to never give up, to keep on trying, and kick the flank of anypony who got in her way. Not sit around.

That realization hurt a little. None of her friends were the type of ponies just to give up. Not even Fluttershy – when push came to shove, Flutters had already proven she’d stare down a dragon, so how were mere ponies s'posed to stop her? They would all do anything to save Pinkie if she was in danger. In fact – who’s to say that they weren’t doing so right now, wherever they were?

In that case, Pinkie had no excuse. All this sitting around moping wasn’t doing anypony any good. So what if she had failed so far? She would just try again, this time more prepared. Sure, she wasn’t strong like Applejack or smart like Twilight, but she had her own talents, right?

She could still do this. She could break out, Pinkie-style.

She tapped her chin as a plan began to take form in her mind. “Hey, Thirty-Three. Say you needed to throw a party on a moment’s notice. How would you handle getting everything together?”

“Hmmm?” Thirty-Three’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “We-e-ell, I do have a few emergency party stashes hidden around town.”

Pinkie nodded. “Of course. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed some things, then?” Thirty-Three hesitated, looking apprehensive. “One good friend helping out another?” Pinkie quickly added.

Thirty-Three smiled. “Well, in that case, sure! But you have to keep it absolutely secret, OK?”

Pinkie waved one hoof across her chest and placed it over her eye. “Right, right.”

Thinking back on it now, she had hardly tried at all before giving up. Pinkie Pie was a pony with so many tricks up her sleeve that she had once asked Rarity to make her a dress with extra backup sleeves. That had actually not turned out so well, but as the ensuing conversation about the nature of metaphors had shown, it was still fundamentally accurate.

The party supplies would be the bulk of what she needed. She would just need to get her saddlebags, and then pay a visit to the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ Clubhouse over at Sweet Apple Acres. Even if she knew she wouldn’t find the terrible trio, she was hopeful that they might have left a certain something behind.

“And Thirty-Three, do me one more favor?” A grin spread across Pinkie’s face. “Let Two know that I may be late to her little party.”

Pinkie stood at the top of the hill at the edge of town. In the distance, she could see the spires of Canterlot gleaming in the sunlight. Close enough to see, but still so far away.

She pulled the goggles down over her face. Not quite as nice as her nightvision goggles, but she just needed something to keep the wind out of her eyes, and these would do nicely. A pat of her overloaded saddlebags confirmed their contents were securely tucked away, but ready to be retrieved at a moment’s notice. She cinched the helmet tighter against her head, wishing she had a bit larger one, but it would suffice.

There was one last thing to check: the enormous cannon next to her. Thirty-Three has said it was the Party Cannon Mark IV, and that somepony named Seventy-Two had put it together. Pinkie was legitimately impressed – even if Seventy-Two was just one more fakey faker, the Mark IV was way more advanced than her old one. Pinkie wouldn’t have minded discussing the finer points of recreational artillery with her, except she didn’t want to waste any more time, and the more ponies that caught wind of her plan, the greater the chance somepony would try and stop it.

Most importantly for Pinkie’s purposes, the cannon was much larger than her old one. Today, the payload wasn’t going to be confetti and streamers. It would be one very dedicated escapee.

She reached back with one hoof to grip firmly on the object slung across her shoulders and trotted over to the cannon. Even as big as it was, it made for a tight squeeze with her saddlebags and everything. Good. That would make the blast even more forceful.

Pinkie was very familiar with the laws of physics. Familiar enough to know that some of them were really more of... recommended guidelines. It took a bit of finesse to push the limits, as well as a firm grasp of cosmic nature of humor, but one thing she had found was that in order to really do crazy things, it helped to have sufficient momentum. Usually this was meant figuratively.

In this case, it would be literal.

With a deafening blast, the Party Cannon Mark IV fired, launching Pinkie out and into the sky at ludicrous speeds. One minute she was tensed and ready in the cannon, then before she could even process the explosion behind her, she had left the cannon as a speck far behind her.

She would absolutely have to get some pointers from this Seventy-Two before Princess Celestia zapped all the fake ponies back to wherever they belonged.

She tore through the air like a rocket, punching holes right through the middle of low-hanging clouds – one advantage to being an earth pony for once. The feeling of speed as she cut through the sky was such a rush that it wasn’t until she began to lose altitude that she remembered the second part of her plan.

She forced herself to look down. She would land right on the downslope of a hill – perfect! She fought against the wind to pull the object off her shoulder and swing it down to her back hooves..

As super-riffic as the cannon had been, it was a long way to Canterlot still, and she needed some way to keep up her speed. Something to take advantage of the momentum she had gained. Something like Scootaloo’s scooter.

She braced herself as she dropped rapidly out of the sky, gripping onto the handlebars of the scooter with all her strength. The landing was rough, a jolt that rattled every bone in her body, but the scooter made up for any lost speed by immediately picking up even more from careening down the steep slope.

Now this was a ride. The wind whipped so fiercely against Pinkie that she expected her hair to be entirely straight by the time she got to Canterlot. If she wasn’t worried about falling over, she would have loved to look back. She was fairly certain she was leaving a trail of fire from how fast those wheels were turning.

She hit the bottom of the hill at a velocity that would make Rainbow Dash proud and immediately started heading up the next, the scooter not hindered at all by the soft grass. Thank goodness there weren’t rocks or stumps! Though she began to slow a little by heading back uphill, it just made the experience closer to a rollercoaster. With ease she crested the top of the hill, catching a foot or two of air in the process.

Only to see something waiting for her up ahead. At the bottom of the hill the ground leveled off for a long stretch, and waiting there was Gummy. He wasn’t moving, just standing still and waiting for her to come to him. As if he would be enough to stop her, just like last time.

This wasn’t the Everfree. This time Pinkie was prepared.

She crouched down as she headed down the hill, trying to be more compact and aerodynamic for every last bit of speed that would afford. One hoof released the scooter’s handle, reaching back to her saddlebags. Pinkie gritted her teeth, trying to concentrate on maintaining her course even as she prepared for contact.

A pegasus in the sky above would have had a particularly interesting sight. A giant green alligator standing still on a grassy plain. A pink blur rocketing towards him. The classic unstoppable force versus the immovable object, or so it would seem.

Then, right as it seemed they would collide... An explosion.

Confetti of every possible color flew everywhere, directly in front of Gummy. It was a rainbow cloud of tiny colorful scraps, completely obscuring the area in a storm of prismatic detritus.

A pink pony flew out, moving to the right.

Gummy was there immediately, only to see the the pink pony shape skid across the grass. Taking one more glance, he struck, biting down on the shape only to have it burst, showering candy everywhere. The head of the pinata landed face-up on the ground, a crude approximation of Pinkie’s face with eyes crossed and tongue stuck out.

Pinkie had already made a beeline for the left, rocketing out of the cloud of confetti at the same speed she had entered it. She grinned to herself in victory, but as she tilted her head to check behind her, she saw that Gummy had already managed to catch back up, keeping pace alongside the scooter.

When did he get so fast? His legs weren’t even moving nearly as quickly as they would have to be to keep up with her! Sure, he took a lot bigger steps due to his size, but jeez!

It was okay. The party wasn’t over quite yet.

She reached back into the other side of her saddlebags, coming up with a plain briefcase.

Cracking the briefcase open was enough to shoot out the balloons packed inside. Not like they had any offensive value, but Gummy always did like balloons, so it might have bought her a minute.

She didn’t risk slowing down to check. Next up were the party poppers, a mass in each hoof and the strings between her teeth. With a cascade of cracking noises, streamers shot out, right at the alligator’s legs. She had specified extra-strength streamers, the kind for heavy-duty parties, but from the tearing sounds, Gummy ripped right through without stopping.

Pinkie grimaced. The rest of the things in the suitcase she just threw out willy-nilly. Noisemakers, party hats, and an origami centerpiece of a prancing equine rained down upon Gummy all to no avail. Pinkie threw the briefcase after the rest.

Gummy was still blocking her. She only needed to faze him for an instant to get around him, but he was currently standing right between her and Canterlot, making all of her speed wasted.

Well then. If that was how things were going to be, she would have to resort to her last, most powerful weapon.

Pastry.

Her hoof dived back into her saddlebags, coming up with a cupcake that arced through the air to splatter against Gummy’s side. Then another— and another. The baked goods rained down like the wrath of a vengeful god. A god of calories or broken diets, perhaps.

Pinke broke into the next layer of ammunition. Crescent ninja-rolls, slightly overcooked to be hard as rock and perfectly shaped for aerodynamic efficiency. They cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. Which would actually be pretty good on a crescent roll. But despite the loud thuds, Gummy didn’t seem scratched by the attacks. Time to think bigger.

An apple pie caught Gummy right in the head, splattering apple filling across his eye. A languid blink was his only response, clearing up the mess with no sign of discomfort. But he began to open his mouth and snap the pastries right out of the air, wasting the next blueberry and peach pies.

All part of Pinkie’s plan. She dug further into the saddlebag, instinctively hesitating at the next thing she touched. “Gummy,” she called out, “if you’re the real deal, I apologize in advance for this one.”

She came up with a Baked Bad – a doozy of one, three times the size of a normal muffin but greenish-brown in color and with a wriggling earthworm sticking out from the top. It took a certain amount of skill to make something this bad. She hesitated only for a moment before heaving it right at Gummy’s head.

Instinctively he snapped at it, swallowing it whole. His expression didn’t change for an instant, and he didn’t slow down, but a long low gurgle erupted from his stomach.

That was her sign to press the advantage. She readied a set of heart-stopper habañero cupcakes, taking care with the combustible comestibles. They had so much extra chili powder and hot sauce packed in that they burned a little to the touch. Woe betide any pony that got them in their eyes or mouth.

They flew straight and true, Gummy having no choice but to open his mouth or take them right on the snout. They joined the Baked Bad in his stomach, causing the gurgling to increase in volume and intensity.

Pinkie went back to the saddlebag but her hoof scraped the bottom. There was one thing left. A single slice of chocolate-strawberry surprisecake. A tear formed in her eye. This was going to be her celebratory slice, for reaching Canterlot.

Oh, the sacrifices that had to be made...

Whispering a quiet apology to the noble dessert, she sent it on its way, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough to finish the job.

Gummy’s bite for the slice was noticeably much more lethargic than before.

The rumbling coming from his stomach grew ominously, and his already-green face began to look even deeper of a shade, even as he maintained a level pace with the scooter.

Pinkie readied herself. She might only get a moment, so she would have to be ready.

Just as the unsettling sounds of Gummy’s stomach hit a fever pitch, they dropped away. He opened his mouth.

And belched, the immense blast of foul air coming from his mouth sending Pinkie and her scooter careening off track.

It was then she noticed just how far she had gone. Gummy had been keeping up with her every step of the way, blocking her progress and naturally guiding her path in a curve around the city and away from Canterlot. She was almost a full third of the rotation around town, and the empty plains and hills were quickly filling with apple trees.

She wobbled, trying to regain her balance and straighten the scooter, while still avoiding any crashes. Easier said than done, particularly as the trees began to thicken. She weaved around one, then between two others, slaloming back and forth wildly.

She ducked and a low-hanging branch barely missed her, coming close enough to brush her mane. This was manageable though, she just had to keep avoiding the trees, and pay attention for any—

The piled rocks came up too suddenly, so low on the ground that she didn’t notice until it was too late. Her scooter slammed into the pile and she found herself once again flying through the air.

See, this is why wearing a helmet was important.

She saw lights and color through the trees, as she hurtled past branches, tumbling head over heels. A tree wouldn’t be a bad place to land, but it seemed fate had other plans. She saw a glimpse of an opening between two apple trees as she sailed through, throwing her hooves up protectively as she braced herself for impact.

She landed with a tremendous splash, but not in enough liquid to meaningfully cushion the blow. The pain was immediate and intense, but as she lay in a slimy puddle, she groaned more in anger than true hurt.

She wiggled her limbs each in turn. Nothing broken. Just badly bruised, along with her pride.

A moment of silence passed as Pinkie clenched her teeth, eyes and mouth both tightly shut in impotent frustration. Then she heard a pony slowly start stamping her hooves. After a moment, several other broke into wild applause.

“Oh, Six, right on time! You do have a knack for a flashy entrance!”

Pinkie winced and opened her eyes, head still spinning. In front of her, Number Two stood with her insufferable lopsided smile.

Pinkie was sitting in a huge punch bowl that had been mostly emptied by her abrupt arrival. All around her were familiar pink faces, staring with impressed expressions. A huge banner hung between two apple trees, proudly proclaiming the party’s purpose. Cheer Up, Number Six!

Pinkie groaned.

In her life she had been to many parties. Some of them amazing. Others less so. But a party isn’t about who’s there or what kind of food they have or what activities are planned. It’s about your attitude and willingness to enjoy it.

For the first time ever, Pinkie Pie was at a party and she hated it.