I saw Pinkie Pie today. She was bouncing about in her usual fashion without a care in the whole world. I’ll never understand how other ponies can balance so many things on their head or nose, but there she was, hopping at least three feet in the air with a full batch of cupcakes on her crown. Every one of them should have fallen off, but they neatly fell back into place after each bounce.

She stopped by me and asked if I wanted one. I declined. I waved my mug full of coffee at her and told her it would give me an upset stomach. She stared at it, sniffed it, and drew back holding her nose as though it held an offensive aroma. There we had a dance of eyes that shifted between each other and the cup. I’d long stopped trying to figure out what made Pinkie Pie do the things she did, but even this I thought was weird. Had she never encountered coffee before? Given her nature, I figured she IV’d herself to it every night before going to sleep.

She motioned for me to levitate the cup closer so I did. She peeked over the edge of the mug and the steaming, dark liquid, and without warning, spun around and kicked it to the ground. The mug shattered, spilling my precious drink into the dirt.

I was so utterly lost for words at this. That was possibly my second favourite mug. It was this lovely, youthful piece I’d acquired some time ago. There were little dinosaurs sculpted into the side, and molded to the floor of the cup was an adorable long-necked one. He’d poke out over the surface as I sipped it and sometimes I’d wave and greet him when it emptied a little. Of all things that happened to me, I wanted most to cry over this. That dinosaur didn’t deserve that, and neither did I. It was just the most exemplary example of rudeness.

Pinkie looked me in the eye while I made sure to hold my mouth quite agape. She had no shame. Was I just about to lose a friend over a tiny mug? Did she not care about what she’d done? Would she care if I called her something mean and ran off crying? That innocent, ignorant scowl on her face was probably there for some ridiculous reason. Sure, she wasn’t trying to be mean, but being a delusional pony does not give one the right to shatter one’s important possessions . Even if it was a dinosaur mug.

I hate to admit it, but there were some days where that tiny dinosaur was the only thing that made me smile.

Part of her mane then reached into another part of her mane in a way that both creeped me out and made me insanely jealous. I do wish that after how well I treated my mane that it would reward me with semi-sentience, but I digress. Hanging at the tip of her curly bangs was another mug, exactly alike the one I just had.  

She dangled it in front of me and I took it. I saw the same little dinosaur inside it and sniffled. It was possibly the happiest moment of the last few months of my life. The simple joy of having something lost returned to me. I looked down in the mug and cooed at the tiny dinosaur.

I looked up and Pinkie was on the other side of the mug, no further than four inches away from my face.

“The mug shall live on,” she hissed at me. “But this—” She pointed to the puddle of coffee on the ground. “This dies with your refusal to eat delicious cupcakes. Long live the empire of the sweet.”

          I asked her what in the good name of the princess she meant and if she thought coffee was a bad thing to drink, to which she replied, “I am coffee and I’ve seen the bitter side of things. Larry here would rather have you pour hot chocolate into his cup than nasty coffee.”

I looked down at the dinosaur again. I never really considered his opinion on the matter, but that was because he was a dinosaur at the bottom of a coffee mug. She moved on with a whimsical humming and tossed a cupcake behind her which I caught. It was still too sweet for me, but I did take a dab of frosting off and put it up to the dinosaur’s mouth. He did look happier, and I couldn’t help but smile.