The basement was dark and musty. Rainbow Dash wrinkled her nose as she descended the rickety steps that led to the underground portion of Sugarcube Corner. She had an urge to fly, but her flight feathers were still not one hundred percent. So, instead, she just followed straight-haired Pinkie Pie into the basement.

“Hey, Pinkie,” she said when she got to the bottom. The air was cool, but it had a strange smell…something unpleasant. Rainbow Dash chuckled nervously. “What are we gonna do in the basement?”

“I’m frustrated, Dashie,” said Pinkie Pie, leaning over a stained wooden table. Since her back was turned, Rainbow Dash could not see what Pinkie was doing. “I really am. And I need an outlet for that stress…”

Pinkie turned around, and Rainbow Dash caught the glint of an exorbitantly large butcher knife in her hoof.

“Pinkie, what are you doing with that?” Pinkie did not answer, she only smiled and giggled as she approached Rainbow Dash. “Put that down before you hurt somepony…Pinkie, no PINKIE- -!”

Pinkie Pie raised the knife above her head and brought it down with all the force she could muster. As it struck, red liquid shot out, spattering the walls and covering Pinkie Pie in sticky warm fluid. One hit was not enough, though, and Pinkie pie raised the blade again and again, pushing it down as hard and fast as she could, stabbing again and again until her endless rage was satisfied.

With a giggle, she licked the liquid from her lips. It tasted so sweet. “Thanks, Dashie,” said Pinkie, now nearly out of breath. “You know how much I needed that…”

“Yeah, well,” said Rainbow Dash, wiping the watermelon juice from her face. “You could at least wait until I brought down the others. Ah, hay, I’m gonna be all sticky now. And you know this stuff makes me itchy!”

“Aww, don’t be such a killjoy. Mellon out,” said Pinkie, picking up the remnants of the brutalized fruit and placing them on the stained table. With a smaller knife, she immediately began removing the succulent flesh from its skin, the whole time pretending that it was screaming.

“Puns are not funny,” said Rainbow Dash. “And besides, what do you even need all things for anyway?”

“I’m making cupcakes,” said Pinkie, putting the rinds to the side and the flesh in a bowl.

“In your basement?”

“No, silly. In the Cake’s basement. I have to keep up with demand, you know.”

“What demand?” said Rainbow Dash. “Nopony’s buying anything! The’re all afraid to go outside, not until the Ponyville Pugilist is caught.”

Pinkie Pie’s knife suddenly clattered to the floor. “The what?” she said.

“You know, the guy who beat up that prostitute. That’s what they’re calling him now. A terrifying figure that lurks in the darkness, waiting for little fillies to be all alone- -and then he pounces, beating them to a pony pulp!”

Pinkie Pie was speechless, and her hair became slightly straighter. “But he only beat one pony, and a pony who clearly deserved it.”

“Well, you know what they say. Once a pony beats it, he gets a taste for it. Then he can’t stop beating it. Of course, I’m not afraid, you know. If I ever meet that sicko, I’ll bop him right in the nose!”
Rainbow Dash mimed bopping said serial beater in the nose, and Pinkie Pie jumped at the motion. “Whoa, Pinkie,” said Rainbow Dash. “Little jumpy, aren’t you?

“Just regular jumpy. Nothing weird. Certainly did not get a Pinkie pony posse to punch a pony prostitute. Not like that…that sicko. Yeah!”

“Pinkie,” said Rainbow Dash. “I think you’ve been taking just a little too much. You really need to lay off the stuff.”

“Lay of the what? I’m not on anything. I’m Pinkie Pie! I’m naturally perky and fun-loving!”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Pinkie. Everyone in Ponyville knows about your coke habit.”

“They do not! I mean- -I don’t have a coke habit!”

Rainbow Dash kicked a large metal cabinet that was against one of the walls. It popped upon, and a number of large, porous gray rocks tumbled out.

“I- -I was making steel! Honest!”

“Sure Pinkie, sure. Smelting iron…in your nose…”

“This coming from a chronic alcoholic.”

“I am NOT an alcoholic.”

“I once saw you try to eat cider that was soaked into dirt.”

“That is totally normal,” protested Rainbow Dash.

Pinkie Pie sighed. “I just don’t understand…”

“I think it has something to do with the pressure of being an athlete,” said Rainbow Dash introspectively. “It’s just so stressful, and sometimes I need something to calm me down.”

“Not that,” said Pinkie. “I just don’t understand how she could possibly be a VIRGIN!”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “Well…uh…it means that a stallion never stuck it in her…um…ear?”

Pinkie Pie looked back and raised an eyebrow. “Ear? Really? Yeah, you should definitely stick to mares.”

“Why does EVERYPONY think that?” cried Rainbow Dash. She instinctively fluttered into the air, something that took a great deal of effort with her short flight feathers. “I’m NOT a lespony! I like STALLIONS! You know, ones with a ton of hair…and real small. And way younger by, like, twenty years.”

“Um, Dashie, you’re like nineteen,” said Pinkie Pie.

“Yeah, well- -I don’t know, in all my fantasies I’m a fifty year old Wonderbolt commander ‘testing’ new recruits. Giving them a real run through the paces. I’m not going to get it on with a newborn foal!”

“Yeah…I believe there is a senate bill of a story that says otherwise.”

“Senate? Pinkie, we live in a totalitarian autocracy. But yeah, no mares. Except griffon hens. Or…cocks?”

Pinkie Pie slammed her face into half a watermelon.

“I think it’s the hair,” she said, pulling her face back out.

“Really? Rainbows mean I’m automatically gay? What the buck?! That’s like saying you’re a communist sympathizer because you’re pink!”

Pinkie Pie lifted her rump into Rainbow Dash’s face. “Does THIS look like a communist plot to you?”

“If it has anything to do with the communist party, yeah, sure ‘Pinko Pie’.”

“Sharing IS caring,” noted Pinkie Pie. Then she sighed, and her expression fell. “Dear Celestia, what if I AM a communist? What if that is why I feel so confused?”

“What’s wrong?” asked Rainbow Dash, landing and suddenly realizing that something might really be wrong with her friend.

“It just doesn’t make SENSE!”

“What, did you try to cut a bit into one hundred pieces again?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point! Nothing here is logical! She’s a prostitute, a slut, a whore- -she has sex for money! She can’t be a virgin! She just CAN’T!”

“Um, who are we talking about, Pinkie?”

“That harlot, Toaster!” cried Pinkie.

“So…not Rarity?”

“No, not Rarity!”

“Oh…you mean the pony that got beat...the one who ISN’T Rarity…”

“Yeah. You know, the one that shot you out of the sky and ruined your wings?”

“Oh yeah!” Rainbow Dash laughed lightly. “Ah, good times…”

“It just…it just doesn’t make any sense! None of it does! This is supposed to be a sex comedy, but nopony’s even had sex yet! Just a bunch of juvenile, stupid jokes!”

“Pinkie,” said Rainbow Dash, annoyed. “We just had that fourth wall fixed.”

“Well, It’s kind of my job because Buttery isn’t in this story.”

“Yeah,” sighed Buttery Snake. “I hate not having a role.” He skewered a watermelon on his horn and trudged dejectedly up the stairs.

“I think the coke might be getting to me,” groaned Rainbow Dash, confused.

“You’ve been touchin’ my coke?”

“No…”

Pinkie Released a long sigh and then dropped to the ground. “It doesn’t matter…Rainbow, we have a HARLOT in our town! And nopony but me even seems to care!”

“I don’t really see what’s wrong with her,” said Rainbow Dash. “I mean, aside from slapping Rarity around like a rented mule. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” whispered the mule who was staring at them through Pinkie Pie’s basement window.

“She probably has been rented by mules. That dirty, stinky, fish-smelling herpes-ridden waifu-stealing tooth-missing overconfident Satin-worshiping v…virgin…” Pinkie Pie momentarily derped from the paradox. Rainbow Dash became nervous, not knowing if she would need to get a first-aid kit or something.

“Wow, Pinkie. You really don’t like her.”

“NO!” shouted Pinkie Pie. “Pinkie loves everypony! Pinkie Pie is friends with everypony!”

“But all that stuff- -”

“Because I hate HARLOTS!” cried Pinkie Pie.

“What’s a harlot again?”

“Prostitute. In old-timey speak.”

“Oh. Any particular reason?”

Pinkie Pie turned back to her watermelon. “Because of the stories. Back when my father used to tell us stories about Yulbee Magnesium-Iron-Silicate-Hydroxide, and all the horrible, gross things she did. My mother would always tell us never to grow up like her, to keep ourselves chaste and to only to give ourselves to ponies that we truly loved…or that the Choosing Stone picked. Actually, mostly that the stone picked. But sex is sin, and selling it- -it’s a perversion! It’s gross, disgusting, and…and…and HORRIBLE!”

“I never took you for a conservative, Pinkie.”

“And I never took you for straight.”

“Touche.”

“Pinkie?” called a female voice from above. The door to the basement opened, and Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie saw a narrow beam of light. “I heard yelling, and coke falling out of the coke closet. Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” called Pinkie. “I’m just making cupcakes with Rainbow Dash!”

“Oh. Well, be sure to use plenty of salt and tenderize her first!”

“I would tenderize her,” said Pinkie, mumbling to herself. “Except her little whore already did that for her.”

“Pinkie, come on, that isn’t fair!” said Rainbow Dash as the door above closed.

“No. What’s not fair is that I have to put up with her in my town.” Pinkie Pie picked up her work, now complete, and presented Rainbow Dash with a plate of fresh watermelon cupcakes. “Something…something’s not right. But I know what she is, even if she isn’t. I can’t let my guard down!”

“Didn’t know you were dating a guard,” said Rainbow Dash, taking a cupcake. “They seem kind of stuffy to me.”

Pinkie Pie ignored her. “Well…she may not be a real prostitute, but I have to finish what I started. I just…I just have to…” She grimaced, and then let out a long sigh and listened to Rainbow Dash munch cupcakes. The will that she had possessed before was gone, and Pinkie Pie no longer knew what was real anymore.