There are two things I learned that night. One was that Pinkie is easy to excite. Now, I know that I’ve had that experience before, but not like this. If Pinkie had been an entity of this world, poor Kibble’s room would be trashed. At the mention of this ‘Celestia’, her eyes widened and I’m pretty sure her lungs popped from how much air she took in from that gasp.

Which brings me to the second thing I learned: Kibble does not like noise. Especially high pitched, excited squeals from a certain pink pony. The instant Pinkie went into her frenzy, Kibble’s mood went from slightly grumpy to downright infuriated. I was rushed out of the house as Pinkie continued to wreak havoc in the old man’s apartment. Honestly, I still don’t see why I was the one who needed to be thrown out, but it was probably best to do what the geezer wanted if I wanted to learn more about this… problem.

Everything was normal from that point on: I went to the pharmacy to get something for my hangover and sat at home watching episodes of Breaking Bad that have been on my DVR for the past month. When night time came around, I laid in my bed, looking up at the same ceiling that I saw every night, thinking the same things that I always thought, and finally passed out.

When I woke up in the morning, my headache was gone, the dryness in my mouth was no longer there, and I felt like I did every other morning where I didn’t drink my liver into a coma. The walk to the bakery was like usual: early morning people and ponies were out and about, performing their morning routines, looking completely exhausted. I couldn’t blame them; no one wants to be up early in the morning.

“Morning Vinny!” piped a certain pink abomination as I entered the bakery. She had her signature smile stretched across her face, stretching from ear to ear. Pinkie could be annoying sometimes, but one look at that smile will get one to creep onto your face before you know it.

“Morning,” I grunted, taking off my coat and hat. Pinkie hopped over to me, extending her forelegs for a hug.

“Pinkie, that won’t work. I can’t physically touch you,” I reminded her. Instead of using common sense and agreeing with me, she shot me a dirty glare and pouted, crossing her forelegs like a spoiled child.

“It’s the thought that counts,” she growled, turning her head away in frustration. I couldn’t help but laugh at her expense. Kneeling down to her level, I spread out my arms and wrapped them around her. Her eager smile returned as she followed in suit. My arms went straight through her, sending an eerie chill down my spine. It felt so strange, like ‘jumping into a pool filled with cotton balls’ strange. Pinkie’s smile didn’t fade, but I could tell she was a bit upset that she couldn’t feel the hug. The smile didn’t mean squat when her eyes screamed of desire.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled as the front door’s bell rang, signalling a customer.

“Sorry, we’re not open ye—” I stopped my statement as I met eye to eye with Mr. Offa. He stared at me with a furrowed brow, trying to grasp the scene before him.

“Vinny, what’re you doing?” I looked over to Pinkie, then back to Mr. Offa.

“There was something on the floor,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I was just picking it up.”

“Where is it now?” I’m pretty sure my heart stopped right there. Swallowing hard, I dug into my pockets, looking for anything that could be classified as evidence to show the man. Of course, the only thing in my pocket was my cell phone and wallet and the one time I wanted there to be some lint, there wasn’t. Cursing under my breath, I shrugged and looked down at the floor.

“You got me, Mr. Offa.” The chubby man moved forward and placed one of his heavy hands on my shoulder. His face showed genuine concern as he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Vinny, I know you have a lot on your plate. If something’s wrong don’t be afraid to tell me. I can help you.” Looking up at him, I felt that I needed to tell him everything. About Kibble, about my problem, about Pinkie; if I got it all of my chest, maybe he would understand and I might have a chance of not being sent off to the looney bin. Swallowing hard, I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself.

“I threw the trash over there.” His head did a take back as I pointed to a small gap between the counter and the wall. He looked back at me, completely bewildered.

“Beg your pardon?”

“I haven’t had the will to clean up lately, being a baker and all, so I’ve been kinda slacking on my porter duties. I just didn’t want to disappoint you.” Mr. Offa shook his head again as if he was trying to reconfigure his brain. Taking his hand off my shoulder, he let out a distraught sigh and rolled his eyes.

“There’s no need to get all high-strung about it Vincent. I don’t want you overworking yourself. How about I put an ad in the paper to get some help around here?” I felt a little bad for lying, but I just couldn’t tell him about it; it would sound crazy. It is crazy.

“Well, I’d say yes, but are we really in the position to hire more people? I mean, money is tight—” Mr. Offa raised his hand and put on a sinister grin. Tension filled the air as his smile began to scare me. Last time he gave me a smile like this, we had the local mafia knocking at his store window with a brick.

“Since I appointed you as the new baker, our numbers have gone up dramatically. We have enough for the rent, even! So as long as you keep baking like you do, we’ll be fine with an extra pair of hands.” Even though I was more than happy to help Mr. Offa out, I didn’t really like his plan. What if something happened to me and I wasn’t able to work for him any more? His business would sink like a rock if he depended on me alone.

But boss man gets what boss man wants. I just nodded my head, grabbed a dustpan and hand broom, and cleaned as much dust as possible from the gap as possible to make my white lie seem like the truth. Mr. Offa didn’t even bother to see if it was there or not; he just went off into his office to do God knows what for the next eight hours.

As I entered the kitchen, the smell of flour and baked goods consumed my nose. My skin tingled as I readied myself to start the bread for the day.

“Ready to start the day, Vinny?” Pinkie asked, her pearly whites shining from under her huge smile. I nodded and threw on my apron.

Dumping a bag of flour into the mixer, I prepared all the ingredients according to how Pinkie taught me. Her method did not disappoint: not only did it produce an edible loaf of bread, but it actually tasted good, too. While I waited for the mixer to do its work, I turned to Pinkie, who sat next to me, humming a cheery tune.

“Hey, Pinks. Mind if I ask you a few questions? I’ve been curious about your world and how it works.” Pinkie cut her song short before cracking a devilish grin.

“Sure, but you have to answer any questions I have about humans.”

“Deal.”

Grabbing a filter and some coffee grounds, I began making a cup of coffee for myself.

“So, what’s with that tattoo on your butt?” I asked. Pinkie turns her head to look at her flank before giggling.

“That’s not a tattoo, silly! That’s my cutie mark!” I gave her a confused stare that she quickly picked up on. “Our cutie mark appears on our flank when we discover our super duper special talent.” I watched as the coffee pot started filling up with the bitter black liquid before moving onto the next question.

“Who’s this Celestia that you got all excited about yesterday?” Pinkie gave me disgusted look, like I met her grandmother behind a 7 Eleven for a favor.

“It’s Princess Celestia. She’s only the ruler of all of Equestria! And she promised to come down to Ponyville in three days to visit you and Kibble.” I couldn’t help myself from chuckling.

“Ponyville? Is that seriously the nam—” My laughter was stopped short as my brain finally processed what she said. The ruler? Coming to visit? “Pinkie, when were you planning to tell me this?! Why didn’t you bother asking me first?” I asked, a little concerned about this sudden event. The mare put a hoof to her chin and looked up to the sky, deep in thought before breaking out a smile.

“I don’t know.” I facepalmed so hard that I was pretty sure I gave myself a brain aneurysm. This pony was going to be the death of me.

“Next time you decide something important like that, can you—I don’t know—maybe consult me next time?” Pinkie nodded her head wildly.

“Okie dokie!” I let out a distraught sigh before opening the fridge to grab some cream for my coffee. As I poured the caffeine-infused drink into my cup, I asked one more question.

“I know nothing about you, Pinkie. What’s your story?” Pinkie’s smile faded as the question escaped my lips. I couldn’t help but feel like I touched a bad nerve, so I raised my hand and shook my head. “Forget it. We’ll talk about it another time.”

Pinkie nodded her head and her signature grin found its way back onto her face. Grabbing the coffee pot and a mug, I poured my breakfast and added the necessary ingredients to make it just right.

“I guess that’ll do for now. You got any questions?” I asked before taking a sip.

“Oh! Yeah, I have one. What does ‘fifteen for a tuggy’ mean?” Coffee erupted from my mouth like an angry volcano. Her question completely threw me off.

“Where did you hear that from?” I stammered, trying not to laugh. The mare pointed towards the street with her hoof.

“Some human girl last night was asking a human boy who was sitting in midair that last night.” I assume by ‘sitting in midair’, she meant someone in their car. “She didn’t wear the normal clothes that most girls do. Her’s were too small on her.” I looked around the room, unable to make eye contact with Pinkie. How was I supposed to explain to her what a prostitute was?

“She was, uh… She wanted a partner for… tug-of-war. For fifteen minutes. That’s it!” I gave her the most forced smile I could muster. Her eyelids lowered and her brow furrowed. It was like she was searching deep into my eyes to ensure I wasn’t lying. I could feel the sweat developing across my forehead and slowly fall down my face. Her glare dug deeper into my soul, almost as if she had some sort of superpower.

“Okay! That makes sense!” Her elated expression appeared instantly as I let out a relieved sigh and wiped the sweat from forehead. “I’ll ask Dashie if she wants a ‘fifteen for a tuggy’ later.” To this day, I hope that this “Dashie” character is as naive as her pink counterpart, because if she’s not, that’ll be one awkward conversation.

I took a few paper towels and cleaned up my little spit take before returning to the mixer. The dough was ready for baking and just in time: there was only an hour left before the morning rush came in. Turning to Pinkie, I pointed at my wrist to signal the time.

“The morning rush is coming in soon.” As I peeked into the oven to check if the bread was its golden brown, one more question crept into my head.

“Hey Pinkie?” The mare looked up from the ground and tilted her head like a engrossed puppy. “Don’t you have work or something to do throughout the day?” Pinkie nodded her head and smiled.

“Yep!” Silence filled the room as I stood there staring at the mare, waiting for her to continue. She didn’t.

“Shouldn’t you go to it?” Pinkie nodded, but didn’t move from her spot. Again, I waited for something to happen, only to be disappointed. With a shrug, I turned back to the oven and peeked again. The bread was ready, so I turned back to grab my necessary tools. Something was different, though. Pinkie was missing.

“Pinkie?” I asked out loud, trying to find the pony. I looked around the kitchen trying to find her with no success.

“Pinkie?”

“Who’s Pinkie?” My heart skipped as I turned to the doorway to find Mr. Offa standing in it. I didn’t know what to do; my hands were shaking, my body refused to move, and my brain just went dead. Mr. Offa raised an eyebrow and made his way towards me. He raised his hand and pressed it against my forehead.

“Vincent, are you alright? You haven’t been your usual self since the day I made you the baker.” My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I couldn’t say—or think of, for that matter—a word to get me out of this predicament.

It was almost like the gods had chose me as their toy that day. The front door’s bell rang, knocking some sense back into me.

“I-I’m fine, Mr. Offa. R-Really, I am. I have to take c-c-care of that customer,” I stuttered, sliding around the hefty man. With two left feet, I stumbled into the storefront and took my position behind the counter. A guy in his early twenties stood there, looking bored out of his mind.

“How can I help you?” I asked, putting on a smile. The guy looked up at me with his glossy, green eyes and pointed at the front window. A sign reading, “HELP WANTED” sat across it. I hadn’t noticed it when I came in that morning, so Mr. Offa must have put it up when I making the bread.

“Mr. Offa!” I screamed, making the guy jump.

“Hey Vinny! I got something to show you!” said a familiar voice, making me jump. Pinkie stood beside me with her mouth slightly open, almost as if something was in her mouth. The guys eyes shot to Pinkie’s position then back to me. It was almost as if...

“Are you here for the porter position?” We both jumped as Mr. Offa came in from behind me and extended his hand to the young man. The guy nodded, not uttering a word and shook his hand. Mr. Offa smiled and guided him to the office. “I have some time, so let’s have a quick interview, yes?” The two made their way into the office, slamming the door behind them.

Turning back to Pinkie, I looked down at the ground where she ‘placed’ something.

“Isn’t it cool?!” she exclaimed. I stood there for a moment, trying to see what she was talking about before remember something.

I couldn’t.

“I don’t know, I can’t see it,” I replied with a monotonous tone. I had more pressing matters on my mind.

Like that guy’s reaction to Pinkie.

Author's Notes:

This time, the challenge was to type with my feet while blindfolded.