It's been three days since my last entry and there's a good reason why: nothing interesting happened. Three days, and the most important thing that happened was that I stubbed my toe on the prep table making a loaf of bread.

But that's beside the point.

Today, as I walked like the mindless zombie I am to work, I ran into Pinkie again. She sat in the middle of the road outside the bakery, waiting like an obedient dog for his master. I'd say I was a bit concerned, what with the rain pouring overhead and cold chill in the wind, but I wasn't sure if the same was happening in her world. If it was, I'm pretty sure that poofy mane of hers would have been drenched. As soon as she caught sight of me, she galloped over and attempted to pounce on me with no success. One case of head trauma and a bit of consoling later, I somehow got her to calm down. Or at least, what I think her version of calm was.

Pinkie wasn't like all the other ponies; she was... unusual, to say the least. While other ponies acted what I could only assume was normal, Pinkie was always bursting with energy and couldn't sit for more than thirty seconds. It proved rather difficult when I kept trying to get any bit of information from her.

"What did you find out about Mr. Jennings?" Pinkie's smile widened at the mention of the old man's name.

"Oh! You mean Kibble! He's so funny!"

"Kibble? Like dog food?" I repeated, completely bewildered by the name. "Whatever. So can he hear and see you as well?" Pinkie put a hoof to her chin, deep in thought before cracking another huge smile.

"I have no idea!" Smacking my hand against my forehead, I proceeded to rub my temples to vent out my frustration. This mare was becoming a workout on her own.

"What do you mean, 'I have no idea'?"

Pinkie shrugged, "I kept asking him questions, but he wouldn't answer any of them."

"Then where were you for three days?" It was none of my business to ask, but it was rather difficult to find a ghost amongst ghosts you could talk to. Being alone in a sea of ponies to find one that I could actually communicate with was rather refreshing, so it was only natural I'd be concerned about her.

"Well, I had to go to work at Sugarcube Corner and there was Twilight's party for organizing the library. She wasn't exactly happy about the mess... I had to help Applejack with moving a ton of apples, Celestia wanted to have another tea party, and the giant hydra was running rampant in the swamp again, so I was a bit busy," she said in a quick spurt. Shaking my head, I tried to piece together whatever she said, but it was impossible. Not only did she speak fast, but half the crap she just said made no sense. What the hell was a hydra doing there?

"So you didn't find anything out about Mr. Jennings?"

"Kibble," she growled, giving me a small glare before turning back to her cheery self.

"So you didn't find anything out about Kibble?" Pinkie nodded her head.

"I did find out today is Kibble's birthday! He’s turning eighty!" Before I could even ask the question, she was already answering it. "His son called him on the macaroni shaped thing." I could only assume she meant a phone. "He said he wouldn't be able to see him for his birthday. He sounded really busy, but Kibble was okay with it. Then someone else called and offered him something called 'Viagra'." She giggled to herself for a moment before continuing. "He slammed the macaroni down and screamed, 'Fucking telemarketers!' It must have been somepony pranking him."

I felt a tug at my heart hearing her swear. Something about an innocent pony saying "fuck" just didn't feel right. "Pinkie, that's a bad word. Don't ever say that." Her ears tilted back like a dog who just got caught soaking the carpet.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know telemarketers was a bad word." At this rate, my forehead was going to fracture from slapping it so much. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I readied myself to scold her, but something—or someone—cut me off.

"Morning, Vincent." Turning around, I looked up at none other than Mr. Offa. "Who're you talking to?" Standing up, I looked around the street in panic.

"Uh, no one! I just saw... a cat! Yeah!" Mr. Offa furrowed his brow, but immediately shrugged it off.

"Whatever. How have you been the last three days? Did we sell anything?" he asked, a bit of worry evident in his voice.

"Actually, we sold more than usual." Mr. Offa did a take back before his mouth dropped in surprise. "Two days ago, I had to make six extra loaves of bread to keep up with the customers, and yesterday I sold twenty-two." A smile etched on his face as he laid one of his huge mitts on my shoulder.

"I knew I could count on you, buddy!" With a heavy pat on the back, he nearly smacked me down to the ground. "Not only did you keep me in business, but you actually attracted more customers!" I looked out the corner of my eyes at Pinkie, feeling pretty bad about not giving her the credit she deserved.

The only thing she did was smile at me, bearing her pearly white teeth before whispering, "I only helped. You did all the work," as if Mr. Offa would hear her. Turning back to the chubby man, I nodded in agreement, though I still felt bad. Mr. Offa guided me towards the front door, muttering to himself about how I would save his business bring it into an age of prosperity and about his new baby, Dill. I'd write more about it, but I wasn't really listening at the time. I had only one thing on my mind that moment.

Kibble Jennings.

As six o'clock rolled by, I pulled the twenty-five loaves from the oven and began slicing them as I drowned out Pinkie's voice (which, mind you, is not an easy task). As I finished the last loaf, the front door's bell echoed, cutting Pinkie off. Her ears perked as the sound of wood tapping against tile rang throughout the store. The only thing I saw was a pink blur as she sprinted off into the next room. Bagging one of the loaves, I entered the sale's floor to witness her bouncing around Mr. Jennings.

"Kibble! I missed you!" she exclaimed, not taking a second to relax. Placing the loaf on the counter, I extended my hand out for shake.

"Good morning, Mr. Jennings." Pinkie stopped mid-stride and gave me a look that screamed, Say it! "And happy birthday." The old man extended his hand once he made it to the counter and shook mine with a suspicious look plastered across his face.

"Morning, Vinny. How'd you know my birthday was today?" Sweat beaded on my forehead as I looked to Pinkie for help. She merely shrugged and continued bouncing around the room. Wiping the sweat with my forearm, I chuckled and shrugged as well.

"You told me a while back, remember?" The old man's face scowled as he eyed me skeptically.

"I may be an old man, Vincent, but my memory is still as good as it was sixty years back. I never once told you about my birthday." It felt like I had swallowed a rock; the sweat was beginning to run down my face as I picked at my brain for an excuse. If this man really couldn't see Pinkie, and he found out I could, I'd definitely be put into a psych ward or something.

"That's right! Mr. Offa told me. Sorry, I must have mixed it up," I lied, letting out a nervous chuckle. Kibble raised an eyebrow, still staring me down as if he was digging into my very soul. I rubbed the back of my head and pushed the loaf forward. "Here's your loaf, fresh from the oven."

His expression changed completely as he reached into the bag, grabbing a slice of bread from the bag and sinking his teeth into it. With a crooked smile, he purred like a cat as he chewed on the baked good.

"Eddy may have had the experience, but he certainly couldn't make bread like you can, boy." I felt my cheeks heat up from embarrassment as he chuckled at my uneasy expression. "See, he knew how to make bread. But he was like a robot, making bread for the sake of making bread. You... you make it with care. I can taste the time and love you put into it."

"He learned it from me!" Pinkie blurts, jumping between the two of us. It was the truth; she taught me that not only should I take the time and care to make the bread, but I should also put my sweat into. Figuratively, of course.

"Well, with that, I have to get going now," he said, grabbing his bag and cane. As the old man made his way towards the door, my thoughts were screaming at me.

Ask him! This may be your only chance! I reached my hand out as Pinkie curiously watched.

"Wait, Mr. Jennings!" The old stopped almost instantly, his hand on the door handle. "Would you mind if I passed by later? You know, to give you your birthday gift?" For a moment, he stood there, not saying a word. I was afraid he had stopped breathing or finally croaked where he stood.

"Sure," he whispered before leaving the store. I stayed at the counter for a moment, trying to piece together what had just happened. Then I realized something.

I had to get him a gift now.

Turning to Pinkie, I pointed towards the kitchen, "Mind helping me make a cake?" With a single nod, she followed me into the room as she listed off the things I needed to make the dessert. She stopped for a moment as I dug through the small cabinet under my prep station.

"I thought the flour was in that tree last time," she said, point towards the pantry. From that alone, it was safe to say that she couldn't see my world either. Pulling the box out, I stupidly showed it to her like she would see it. Pinkie stared at my hand in confusion before I read it out loud.

"Cake mix." Her eyes dilated as she bit her lower lip, almost like she got sucker punched in the gut.

"No!" she screamed, making me jump. "Vinny, haven't I taught you anything? That's not the proper way! Kibble will know the difference." She ran up to swat the container from my hand, only to hit nothing but air. Something was wrong though. I felt something when she swung at me: soft, luscious fur. Pinkie stopped her antics and looked at her hoof. It was apparent she felt me too. Running my hand over her foreleg, I felt it again as she winced from my hand.

"That's weird," she mumbled, looking at her foreleg. I had to agree with her. I couldn't feel her entirely, but I could make out her fur. I'm pretty sure she could feel my skin, too.

“Whatcha up to, Vinny?” said a voice behind me. I swear, my manager is a part time ninja. As I turned to the heavy set man, he looked down into my hand and smiled. “Making a cake, huh? Yeah, you’re gonna need practice if you want to be the baker around here.” Two things in one day I didn’t expect to happen now.

“W-wait, you’re making me the baker now?” I stuttered. I wasn’t ready for such a responsibility. With a heavy laugh, Mr. Offa patted me on the back with his huge mitts.

“Of course! You seem to have a natural talent for this!” As much as I wanted to fight against it, I couldn’t. He had helped me in my time of need, so it was time for me to repay the favor. Putting a fake smile on, I nodded and looked at the cake mix in my hand.

“Yep, it’s almost as if another voice in my head walk me through it,” I said with an uneasy tone as I glanced over at Pinkie. She giggled at my uncomfortable expression as I placed the box back inside the cabinet as my manager chuckled at my joke.

“Well, be careful back here. If you need to use ingredients, be sure to conserve them. We’ll need them with the small amount of money we have in this place,” he grumbled before sulking out of the room. I felt bad for him; the man had a lot on his plate, figuratively speaking. I don’t want him reading this and thinking I’m talking about his weight.

Anyway, after quite a bit of flour, Pinkie’s giggles, a snowman made of dough, and two hours of my time, I finished baking the cake and readied the frosting. Grabbing a spatula, I dipped into the frosting and began spreading it on the cake. Pinkie looked at me for a moment, her smile slowly fading away as I worked on my first masterpiece.

“What’s the matter?” I asked her, noticing her sudden change in emotion. “Am I doing something wrong?” Pinkie shook her head, bringing herself back into focus.

“Oh, no! You’re doing fine. I was just thinking about Kibble. He’s just so lonely, all by himself in that apartment.” I remember her eyes looking over the cake, making her smile again. “But once he gets this cake, he’ll be so happy!”

Nodding my head, I found myself etching a smile. It felt good to do something nice for a someone I hardly knew. After about fifteen minutes of decorating and trying to figure out how to properly use an icing bag, I finished my project. Placing it in the box, I looked up at the clock. It was already time for me to close up the shop. Poking my head into the manager’s office, I found Mr. Offa fast asleep at his desk. It was understandable: the poor guy has been worrying about his wife and store nonstop for the past three days. Giving him a nudge, he woke up and look at me wearily.

“What time is it?” he mumbled, checking his watch.

“Closing time,” I grunted, pointing at the door. “You should get home, Mr. Offa. You need sleep.” With a tired nod, he got up and put on his jacket before following me to the front door.

“Hey, Vincent.” I turned to the man with a confused look. “Thanks for helping me out. I’m sorry to drop this all on you so suddenly, but know that I really appreciate your help and dedication.”

“It’s nothing. If anything, I should be thanking you for back then—” He raised his hand to interrupt me. With a tired smile, he shook his head. I knew how he was. He didn’t like bringing up the past, especially when it involved me. Shutting my lips, I opened the door and let him out as I carried the box with me. Mr. Offa headed to his car and started it up, but not before rolling down his window and asking me a question.

“You want a ride home? I could imagine how tired you are after today.” Shaking my head, I pointed over at the building down the street.

“No, thank you. I have to go visit Mr. Jennings and celebrate his birthday.” With a shrug, Mr. Offa rolled up his window and drove away. Looking down at my feet, I met eyes with a grinning Pinkie who looked as if she was about to burst from excitement.

“Oh! We should get some streamers. And balloons. And games. A—”

“Pinkie, Mr. Jennings is an old man. He doesn’t have time for things like that.” Pinkie gave me a shocked look as I made my way for the building. Looking over the mailboxes, I found the apartment number he lived under.

“Jennings, Kibble.” Sure enough, Pinkie was correct on his name. “Apartment six.” As I expected, the apartment was on the ground level. Any landlord that gave a man like Mr. Jennings an apartment on a higher level deserved to be beaten with a tactical badger. After knocking on the hardwood door, I could hear the sound of a wood meeting tile. Pinkie ran off through the door and immediately began yammering on about the surprise I had for him. Slowly, the door swung open, revealing the old man.

“Oh, hello Vinny. What brings you here?”

“Your present, sir,” I said, lifting the cake up for him to view. He adjusted his glasses and smiled before dipping his finger into the frosting and licking it.

“Chocolate. My favorite,” he chuckled before moving aside to let me in. “Please, come in.”

The house smelled... well, like an old person’s home. I don’t know what it is they do to create that smell, but it was rather strange that it didn’t change from home to home. It was a rather nice place; plenty of nice furnishings, pictures of what I could only assume as friends and family, and one thing that stuck out the most: a single rose, framed right over a table.

“Please, sit down,” Mr. Jennings said, breaking my train of thought. Placing the cake down on the coffee table, I glanced around the apartment.

“I’ll go grab some plates and forks.” I ventured into the kitchen and found it rather quickly: the kitchen was rather small. Returning with two plates, two forks, and a knife. Pinkie threw me a glare as I sat down in the seat across from the old man.

“You forgot mine, Vinny!” Giving her a deadpan stare, I handed her mine which her hoof went through. With a cheesy smile, she closed her lips before taking a seat next to Mr. Jennings. I could feel the tension as Kibble grabbed the knife and cut himself a piece of cake. Raising his fork, he places the morsel into his mouth and slowly chews.

“Made from scratch. A little too much sugar, but still good.” Breathing a sigh of relief, I grabbed the knife and started cutting my piece. “I assume the extra sugar was thanks to our friend here?” I nearly dropped the knife. Pinkie gave him the same look as my tongue stumbled over my own words.

“You... her... see?” He merely nodded and took another bite of his cake.

“I see them too.” I didn’t know what to say or do, for that matter. Placing the plate down, I tried to figure it out. This man in front of me has been experiencing the same thing for God knows how long and has somehow kept it quiet this entire time. So many questions began to race in my head.

How long has he seen them for?

Was Pinkie the only one he’s ever interacted with?

Were we the only two who could see these ponies?

Before I could even ask a single question, Mr. Jennings placed his plate down on the table and groaned.

“Ah, been a while since I had something this good. Well, thank you for the cake, but I must be getting to bed soon. Please, come by anytime and visit.” He stood up from his chair and made his way toward the front door to show me out as I sat there baffled.

“Please don’t keep me waiting. I’m an old man, I need my rest,” he insisted, waving his hand towards the door. Standing up from the chair, I walked to door, trying to think of a way to keep him from kicking me out. As I entered the hallway, I turned around, raising my finger to interject him, but was quickly cut off.

“I’ll explain everything in due time. It’ll be too much to take at once if I tell you everything at once.”

And with that, he closed the door and locked it, leaving my brain to buzz like an angry beehive.

Author's Notes:

Meh 2: Meh Harder.