Twilight Sparkle hadn't been living in Ponyville for very long; according to her Star Swirl the Bearded Calender (available at all good stockists), she had been in residence at the Golden Oaks Library for a little over a month now; in that time, the purple mare had faced many unusual situations, but had overcome each and every problem with the help of her new-found friends. Still, there was one oddity which continued to perplex her, plaguing her on an almost daily basis.

It didn't help that said oddity was hanging upside down on a web made of thin air.

When she had been a kid, Twilight had never been able to develop an interest in the Spider-Pony comics because the logical impossibility of his web-placements had always rankled with her neatly ordered rational sensibilities. That same problem was writ large – as large as a small, pink pony with a tousled mane could be, anyway – and the worst part of it was that no one else seemed to question it.

People must eat crazy pills like they're candy beans around here, she decided. They'd lived with such idiosyncrasy their entire lives, so it could just be that they no longer found it unusual.

“It's just Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie,” was the closest Twilight Sparkle had ever got to an explanation.

Which is entirely the wrong thing to say to someone who'd made it their life's business to understand everything in Equestria. If only they could see the crazed fit of twitching such non-reasoning brought out in her. As far as Twilight was concerned, there was nothing that could defy rigid analysis; if it was observable, then it was categorisable, quantifiable, understandable. Pinkie Pie might be an anomaly – a dangerous one, at that, if it wasn't for the fact that she seemed entirely oblivious to her powers – but one that was solvable. So the purple mare hoped.

“Pinkie Pie,” Twilight said, trying her best not to look fazed while one of her new friends openly defied the known laws of physics right in front of her. If nothing else, she bristled slightly at the suggestion that, just because you happened to disagree with them, you felt that the conventions of normal space-time didn't apply to you. It was kind of … arrogant, wasn't it? To openly flout gravity as if it were nothing more than a quaint notion and not a fundamental force of the universe. “How are you today?” Twilight Sparkle hoped her fixed-grin wouldn't drop to the floor and shatter.

“I'm pretty good, thank you for asking,” the pink mare replied in her typical hyperkinetic manner, apparently completely unaware of her friend's unease. “Sorry for stopping by unannounced like this, but you've been here for a while now, and I've noticed that, other than when some crisis hits, you never seem to leave the library. Well, except for groceries, too. You really like those instant hayburgers, huh? I prefer the ones with barbecue sauce. They're a bit more expensive, but worth it.” Without even pausing for breath, she went on, “Anyway, what I really wanted to say is that, if you ever need anything, me and the girls could be 'round here in,” Pinkie broke off to look at an imaginary watch on her fetlock, “two, three minutes, I guess? Assuming we're all equidistant from here, that is. Maybe ninety seconds if we really horsed it.” She finished with a broad, expectant beam.

Twilight was beginning to get a crick in her neck from having to stare up at the roof to her poofy-maned friend; no matter how hard she looked, though, she couldn't find any sliver-thin tendrils supporting her. It could be some form of magic, of course, but Pinkie was an earth pony, and their limited skills didn't extend as far as levitation. Unless she's a mutation, of course. “Uh, that's sweet of you, really, but I'm fine.” She was not as asocial as Fluttershy, but Twilight Sparkle still preferred to spend her time reading, studying, and just relaxing. “Um, would you mind coming down here? Otherwise I'm gonna need a chiropractor to beat this knot out of my spine.”

“Hm?” Pinkie Pie frowned, spreading her forelegs out wide in a shrug. “Down?”

“To the ground,” Twilight explained patiently. “Uh, you do realise that you're hovering in mid-air, right?” Again, the forced smile.

“Hov...” Before the pink mare could even complete the first word, however, she plummeted on to the balcony with a resounding thunk that sent several books skipping across the floor. “Huh. I guess I didn't realise,” she murmured sheepishly. Barely a split-second later, she was on her feet, dusting herself down as if nothing had happened. She shot a cursory glance at the fallen stack of books, but made no attempt to read any of the titles. “So. Whatcha reading?”

For a moment, the purple mare looked guilty; she had been in the middle of preparing an essay for Princess Celestia on ancient pony myths – supposedly, the current inhabitants of Equestria were the fourth such evolution of their species, but finding any traces of the previous three was incredibly difficult – but, whilst ferreting around in the library's basement, she had come across a first edition copy of The Lord of the Horseshoes and had spent a happy couple of hours reliving her favourite childhood tale.

Evidently, the previous librarian hadn't bothered sorting out his or her stock in quite some time, and there were many volumes down there that ranged from fascinating to priceless. If she could find The Hófvarpnir, too, oh, she would be one happy pony! “Just some old books I found in the basement. Nothing very interesting.” Twilight felt a slight pang of guilt at the white lie; Pinkie Pie was likely the least judgemental pony she'd ever met, but years of being called an egghead and a weirdo had left their mark, and she wanted to keep her geeky habits a bit more secretive. “Just some … uh, research stuff.”

“Oh, research!” Pinkie Pie said, her eyes going wide. “Sounds fun. What can I do to help?” The pink party pony started to bound around the room, a deep sproing emanating from her hooves upon every leap. It was a chaotic, yet somehow graceful, display; she moved in random directions, but never collided with anything, nor did she repeat the same paths. Pinkie finally came to a stop in front of Twilight, her face tinged with pleading.

“Uh, well, I really need to focus on what I'm doing, so, um, if you wouldn't mind ...”

“Being super-duper quiet?” Pinkie shrieked at full volume, practically knocking Twilight over with the force of her voice alone. “Not. A Problem.” She drew a rosy hoof across her lips, and mimed tossing away a key.

“Uh, no, I meant ...” Twilight stammered, feeling both embarrassed and contrite.

“Oh. Oh.” The pink mare finally seemed to grasp the fact that her presence was unnecessary and she began stalking lifelessly toward the door, each hoof-fall leaving a ghastly, echoing thud in the suddenly too-still room. Her normally buoyant mane had flattened against her head, and even the colour had drained from her coat. “If you do need me,” she said sharply, in a tone that Twilight had never heard her using before, “you know where to find me.”

This was finally getting to be too much for Twilight Sparkle to cope with. Jarring changes in mood? Physics-bending behaviour? Psycho-reactive hair? Was there more to Pinkie Pie than the eye alone could see? Did she have some draconequus lurking deep in her ancestry, or was she just … Pinkie Pie? Direct questioning was unlikely to yield much in the way of results; she would simply respond with gibberish, and trying to unpack any facts from the stream of nonsense – if there were, indeed, any to be had – would be impossible.

As impossible as meeting the Mare in the Moon.

As impossible as finding five good friends.

As impossible as confronting a fire-breathing dragon.

Seems as though I'm here to do the impossible. “Pinkie Pie?”

The dejected mare stopped mid-trot and tilted her head slightly.

“Too much studying'll make Twilight a dull pony. Would you like a cup of tea?” asked a smiling Twilight.

Just as it had been when she'd crashed into the balcony earlier, the change happened far too quickly for even the sharpest of eyes to follow; the flat-maned, grumpy-pony disappeared to be replaced by the effervescent, curly party-pony in a flash. “Oh, I'd love some! D'you need a hand making it?” Pinkie asked, following Twilight to the kitchen. “My favourite blend is Earl Grey. How cool is it that he was both a Prime Minister and a tea-maker?”

With a wry shake of her head, the purple mare decided against telling Pinkie that he hadn't actually invented the brand at all. You're going to make one interesting subject of study, Twilight decided with a bemused expression.