"When's she gonna have another party?"

This was the question that flooded the gossip of my little town. Most fear gossip, but it gave me a peculiar security: I could at least rest assured in the comfort of the notable nature that my festivities hold. I burst out of the party shop in utter glee: ribbons tangled about in the gentle breeze while I skipped to the scene of my next event.

"She'll probably have one sometime soon; she always does these things on the weekends!"

With an exalted excitement, I arrived to this week's spot. This one would be easy; it's just a simple spot, surrounded by a veil of trees, but nothing to interfere with the workings of the festivities.

"Every weekend? Isn't that a little hectic?"

I set to work on the bare landscape: draping the draperies, standing the stands, preparing the preparations, distracted so blissfully by the idea of the thing: everyone would be happy with what I was providing for them.

"Nope! Not for her, she's a regular party animal!"

They had to be pleased with my offering, it's the only way.

"Wow, that's crazy! She must be a really upbeat pony!"

They just had to be.

Finally, I'm done. I take a step back to revel in my doings: this was to be quite the carousal, it just needs one more ingredient. This is my favorite part of it all. I spring to the streets, struggling to keep the very feet of stability on the floor as I announce today's party to the masses. With each smile my little heart pounds triumphantly once more, destroying any hints of fatigue my body may hold.

"I love these parties she's always throwing!"

The crowds find gravitation towards my party, and soon the menagerie grows as happiness pervades the once quiet place.

"Yeah, but every week? Seems like a lot to me!"

I can be happy again.

"Seriously! It's like she's addicted to these things!"

I just have to be.