“Okay, Tom, the first thing that I should you warn you is that Pinkie Pie is extremely…”

“Dude, I’m aware of who Pinkie is and what she does, what with her regular flexing of the fou--OH MY GOD!” Pinkie suddenly appeared out of nowhere and close to Tom’s face. He drew back in shock. “Hi Pinkie. Are you going to do that every time we walk in the door?

"Hey, guys! How're my two faaaaaavorite-est customers doing today?! Really? You're good! That's great, because I can't stand it when one of you two is in a bad mood or anything like that, and now you're in a good mood, and OF COURSE I'm gonna do this every single time you walk in the door; I wouldn't be a very good hostess if I didn't do anything like--"

"It's good to see you, too, Pinkie," I said, cutting her off with a pat on the shoulder. "I'll just have my usual, if you please."

"And a Dr. Pep—wait, they don't have that here—an apple juice and blueberry muffin for me,” requested Tom. "Darn ponies and their lack of soda..." He muttered under his breath

"Alright! A chocolate-covered doughnut, two chocolate-chip muffins, a coffee with peppermint, and a rainbow cupcake, coming right up!" Pinkie Pie bounced away, probably to the kitchen or something, humming a happy song to herself.

Tom gave me a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow at me. "Well, that's pretty specific. And gargantuan."

I snorted. "Actually, I just have Pinkie get me whatever she can think of first within the six-bit budget. It's usually a little smaller than that, but hey, I'm not complaining."

I led Tom over to a table by the window, watching ponies passing by as they waited on Pinkie to fill their orders. After a few moments of silence, I spotted a couple of ponies walking side-by-side past the window, holding hooves as they walked. Sensing a way to break the silence, I said, "Okay, so what's your stance on the whole fillyfooling thing? I mean, take Lyra and Bon-Bon over there, for instance. They catch more flak[1] than anypony, and frankly, I don't really think they deserve it. It's not really fair, y'know?"

Tom shrugged indifferently. "I really don't care whose company anypony 'enjoys' at night, just don't start rubbing it in my face."

I nodded, rubbing my chin with a forehoof. "I just wish ponies'd leave them be. I mean, what's it to ‘em?"

"I don't know, brony." He shook his head. "So, on to lighter topics. Anything new with you on this fine autumn day?"

I rubbed the back of my head with a hoof. "Well, I got to talk to this one filly today that I really dig..."

Tom swiftly leaned across the table into my face. "YOU MUST TELL ME EVERYTHING.” I'm not entirely sure how, but he managed to scream at me without raising his voice.

My ears flattened against my head and I leaned back in my chair. "Um... Uh... Oh, hey! Food's here!"

"Here ya go!" Pinkie had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, balancing a tray with our orders on it. She tilted her head and, somehow, our respective drinks and foods managed to land on the table in front of us without spilling or tipping over. "If ya want, I can come join you two after the lunch rush is over!" With that, she bounced away, saying something along the lines of "Lunch rush with Night Rush" or something like that.

Tom smirked. "Heh, she might get on my nerves sometimes, but she sure knows how to make ponies smile."

“Totally!” My ear flicked nervously. "So... yeah. What were we talking about?"

Tom’s smirk turned to a smug smile. "Oh, I think you know exactly what we were talking about, my sneaky little pony."

"I’ll only tell you if you agree not to call me that again." I took a large bite out of one of my chocolate-chip muffins, buying myself some time to think about what I was about to say. "Well, there's this filly... And she's incredibly shy. Y'know who Fluttershy is, right?"

"You might as well ask me who Pinkie Pie is, with that obvious of a question." Tom said as he tried to figure out how to go about picking up his muffin. Eventually, he gave up and just started nibbling on it.[2]

I feigned a look of utter confusion. "Who the buck is Pinkie Pie?"

Tom raised his hooves in the air and let his face slacken. "I don't know, but I've heard she throws terrible parties."

I look frantically around to make sure Pinkie didn't hear us. "Last time that happened, I think she became... different." I allowed myself to shudder slightly.

"Yeah, Pinkamena's some kind of scary." Tom shook himself and took a sip of his juice.

"Anyways. The filly. She's about as quiet as Fluttershy, except it's not that she's that shy; she's more soft-spoken than anything. And she's freakin' beautiful, man! You oughta see her."

"Have you talked to her at all? Do you know her name? Are you just going to stalk her for the rest of your life? Don't be like Spike, man; it hurts me to watch him do that to himself..." Tom trailed off from his barrage of questions with a dejected look on his face.

I winced. "It hurts everypony, brony. Anyways, yes, I said earlier that I talked to her today. That's how we got on this subject in the first place, remember?" I winked at him. "Anyways, her name is Roseluck. It wouldn’t surprise me if you know her, too. And apparently, flowers are only her main hobby--she's also a pretty kick-flank musician. So we talked about that for a few minutes... She was pretty busy, so I didn't wanna keep her." I noticed that I kept flicking my ears and rubbing my face and neck nervously, so I more or less sat on my hooves and said as an afterthought, "We smile at each other every time we pass by each other in passing, if that's anything."

"You are just so adorable when you’re flustered; it's almost as bad as Fluttershy herself," Tom stated flatly, munching on his muffin nonchalantly. "Dude, you play an instrument; why not see if you can set up a jam session with her? Or am I going to have to do it for you so you don't pass out from blushing to hard?" (You’re a complete flank sometimes, you know that? (Added by me)) Tom chuckled, "You are just way too easy to harass, man."

"'S not my fault..." I pouted. "And yes, I pan on setting up a jam session with her, but I'm a rock and roll kind of guy, and she's more of the calm, acoustic guitar type of filly... I don't think it'd go too well..."

Tom put his hoof on my shoulder. "If someone could convince Carlos Santana to work with Chad Kroeger, I'm sure you can get this little gig to work."

"Who the buck... well, anyways, I'm pretty much doomed, because I'm fairly sure that I'm coming off as being creepy." I ate the rest of my chocolate-chip muffin as if to punctuate my statement.

Tom sat and thought for a moment. "I could be your wing-colt; I used to play the bass a while ago. But I'm not entirely sure I could pick it back up again in such a short amount of time, BUT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT!"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I appreciate it, but I'd rather go by myself on this doomed endeavor..." I sigh and rub the back of my neck. "It doesn't really help that she's absolutely terrifying to talk to. You'd think that somepony as shy and quiet as her would be fairly easy to talk to, but somehow, the quiet-ness makes it that much more terrifying..."

"Like you're going to break her if you say the wrong thing." He nodded solemnly. "I am aware of the idea." A quiet had descended over the table again. "Well, anyways. I'm going to grab some more food, you want any?"

I glanced at my other half-eaten chocolate-chip muffin, rainbow cupcake, and doughnut still left uneaten on the table. I swirled my coffee to make sure that there was still some left. "I think I'm good. I might need a nice, big glass of milk for the rainbow cupcake, though. That thing's going to be hell, and this coffee’s just not gonna cut it." I handed him two bits with a smirk.

Tom grabbed the bits from me, put them in the pocket of his hoodie, and walked to the counter. "Hey Pinkie! I was hungrier that I thought I was; get me a pie--anything but rainbow--another juice, and a tall glass of milk for Night Rush."

"Comin' right up, Tommy-colt [3]!" She said with a grin. She disappeared back into the kitchen with a small puff of flour that flew out of her curly shock of pink mane.

Tom headed back to the table and sat down. "Stuff's on the way," he said, gesturing back to the kitchen. "So other than that, have you been doing anything else?"

I shook my head. "Not too much... I've been thinking about going to a studio and recording a few songs that I've written, but I don't have the bits to do it with... I don’t exactly have a job…" I started eating on my doughnut, realizing that I probably should’ve gripped it with a napkin or something almost immediately; the chocolate was still warm, and though that was a very good thing, it also meant that it got all over my hooves.

"Depending on how much it is, I could put in some money for that." Tom ate the last bit of his muffin on the table, brushing a few crumbs off of his chest. "You don't have to do all of this on your own, you have friends." He paused and started staring at the ceiling. "At least, I think you do."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "No, this is something that I wanna do for myself. It'd feel weird to use a friend's money for my hobby. And of course I have friends--I've got you, and I think I've got Roseluck, too." I scratched my chin. "Not sure, though."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. Sweet, food's here!"

I eyed his food, and then looked back at mine; I still had yet to touch my rainbow cupcake, but my eyes were already starting to water from the aroma. A small grin spreading across my face, I said, "I'll take half and you take half. Whoever goes the longest without drinking this glass of milk wins."

Tom raised a challenging eyebrow at me. "Pinkie, we another glass of milk and a rainbow muffin."

(There is a large scorch mark on the scroll here, rendering the text of my glorious triumph over Tom in the rainbow doughnut-eating contest illegible and lost. Rest assured, I kicked his flank from here to Canterlot and back)[4]

"Totally. Bucking. WORTH IT."

Nurse Redheart sighed and ran a sterilized hoof across her face. "Night Rush, this is the third time this week you've been brought in here unconscious. You've got to stop this; seriously."

. "I won. More worth it," Tom croaked from his bed, which was right beside mine

"You did not!" I protested. "You reached for your glass, and then knocked it over, and then I reached for mine."

"But you were the first to drink, and I'm pretty sure that you said 'Whoever goes the longest without drinking milk wins,” Tom retorted.

"But... you... I... Buck you. You lost."

Tom turned and gave me a huge, annoying smile. "Problem?"

"Flankbucking parasprite…”

[1] Flak: A type of ground-to-air explosive used primarily in WWII. It was essentially a mortar shell filled with all sorts of shrapnel designed to puncture holes into airplanes. It’s also used as an expression used when somebody/somepony is getting a lot of grief from somebody/somepony.

[2]:      Tom: Damn these lack of fingers.

Night Rush: … What the buck are fingers…?

[3]: Tom: Hahaha, a Tommy-Boy joke I WILL KILL YOUR FAMILY

[4]: Tom: You sound mad, bro. U mad or something?