A Touch of Pink P4

>You are Pinkie Pie.
>And you are sitting outside of Rarity’s boutique looking through a window.
>Of course you followed Anonymous.
>You had to make sure his date with Rarity went as awesome as possible.
>Except you’re getting pretty distracted because…
> Anonymous looks absolutely stunning.
>There he stands, checking himself out, while you check him out while he checks himself out.
>His black suit that hugs his broad shoulders, but is just flowy enough at the ends to make him look dramatic.
>Tight black slacks that accentuate his hips and seem to hug his…um…bottom.
>You weren’t very good at this.
>You wonder idly if he has a top hat as well, as the piece de resistance.
>And he could probably use a mustache.
>Rarity walks over to him, and you manage to hide to the side.
>You probably don’t need to hide from him, but…you want to make extra double super duper sure that his date goes alright.
>He just looks so happy…with her.
>You slump a little.
>No!
>You’re gonna make this night the best night of his life.

>”Anon…do you know what my initials stand for?”
“Uh…isn’t it Diane Pie?”
>”No, silly!”
>”It’s DOUBLE PENETRATION!”
>”Anon?”
>Something jostles you awake, your eyes snapping open immediately.
>The fuck was all that?
>”As adorable as it is that you happened to fall asleep on me, you’re quite heavy, darling. And you drool.”
>She giggles slightly, shifting a little as you rise and orient yourself.
>Oh shit you must have fallen asleep.
>Well for fucks sake you’ve been up since the asshole of dawn, of course you’re tired.
>Rarity summoned a carriage to take the two of you to the restaurant.
>Car rides back home always made you sleepy, and apparently carriages did the very same.
>You rustle your hair, attempting to comb it back into a good shape.
>”Let me, darling.” Rarity says, rummaging through her saddlebag.
>”I simply have no idea how you manage to get through the day looking how you normally do. Why did you not come to me for advice?”
>You shrug, slightly embarrassed.
>You were a baker. You were coated in a perpetual film of sugar, flour, and various cream and egg based fluids.
>There was no damn way you could be asked to stay kempt.
>But compared to the pristine white coat of Rarity and the ever-styled violet mane of hers…you could damn well be called Hobonon.
>She levitates a little white comb over to your hair and begins to comb your hair, attempting to fix your ‘kind’ hair.
>”Honestly, do you ever comb this tangled mass, Anon?”
“I…kind of?
>She rolls her eyes at you as she pulls the comb through your tangled hair.
>”Now, I do trust I won’t have to tell you how to act? This is a fine dining restaurant, Anonymous. There will likely be many important p0nies dining with us.”
>You were very inexperienced in anything fine dining.
>You were sure there were a billion different utensils for each damn course.
>Is that what you’re in for?
“Rarity are you sure this is going to be that fancy of place? I mean…let’s not overreact or anything.”
>She lowers her eyelids slightly and glares at you.
>”You will NOT embarrass me, Anonymous. Now, do I need to babysit you or can you at least pretend to be a gentleman?”
>Woah.
“Yeah yeah, Rarity, I got this. Don’t worry. They taught me plenty back home about these sort of restaurants.”
>Wait, why would there be a ton of utensils…these are p0nies.
>They don’t even have hands, how will they hold…
>”Aight yous guys, theres da place.”
>The driver, a dark green pony with a tangled mass of black hair holds a hoof out.
>”That’s fiddy bits.”
>Rarity sets her comb into her bags and exits the carriage with grace, not even looking back to you.
>…guess you’re covering the bill for this too.
>You reach into your pocket and fumble around.
>Wait.
>WAIT THIS IS BAD.
>Your money…it’s in your other pants.
>Oh for fucks sake this is the worst thing that could have happened.
>You’re already fucking up.
>Absolutely amazing.
>Way to go Anonymous.
>”No money eh?” The gruff driver asks, leaning into his seat.
>You weakly nod, your face a visage of futility.
>”Tells you what. You let that mare o’ yours gimme a kiss and I’ll see to it this is fergotten, yea?”
>He laughs horsely, as if just prior he was gargling cigarettes.
>Suddenly a flash of movement slaps itself into the driver’s chest, knocking the wind out of him.
>”The feth? What’s all this then?”
>You decide to hurry your ass out of the carriage while the driver is distracted.
>You’re a goddamn human.
>What’s he going to do, tell the cops?
>”Oi, monkey, what are ye tryin to pull?”
>You clamber out of the carriage and turn to see the driver holding up a large silver coin, about the size of a silver dollar back home.
>He bites on it and nudges the rope.
>”Yer clear, kid. Now go, yer mare looks right mad.”
>He laughs as the ponies leading the carriage trot off.
>You shake your head.
>The hell was all that.
>On a cursory glance, the building reminds you of Olive Garden, back home. Dark wooden pillars with a lighter grey stone.
>It’s been scaled down a bit, but even the sign is sort of similar.
>You head over to the entrance of the restaurant, and indeed find a rather livid Rarity standing outside the dark wooden doors.
>”…Anonymous what in the world took you so long? I know you’re inexperienced but it should be common knowledge not to keep a lady waiting.”
>She huffs angrily, and all you can do to assuage her is shrug.
“Sorry, he didn’t…uh…accept gems as currency.”
>She gives you a thousand yard stare for a moment, and then her entire demeanor softens rather abruptly.
>”…you paid the taxi in…gems? Anonymous…I had no idea that your job paid you so handsomely!”
>She trots over to you slowly, passing you by, her tail and flank brushing against your hips.
>This fabric was [spoiler]un[/spoiler]fortunately thin enough to feel her soft coat.
>…wait what the hell just happened.
>”Lead the way, Anonymous.” She says in a near whisper.
>You look down to her, as she stands next to you smiling softly.
>You catch yourself smiling as well.
>Okay.
>Things are going to be okay.
>This was going to be an awesome date.
>As you enter, Rarity checks her name off on the reservation list.
>The snooty looking pony manning the door turns his nose up at you.
>You wink at him.
>Haters gonna hate.
>Ain’t nothing gonna break your stride.
>Another pony gathers the two of you and begins to lead you to your table.
>As you pass through the place, you find that the whole ambiance of the place is…unsettling.
>Candles are the only light source. The tables are set with red cloth, matched with tan napkins.
>There’s also not that much of a crowd, but the p0nies that are there just seem to ooze ‘I’m better than you’.
>Many of them glance in your direction, their faces mixed with disgust and shock.
>You sigh, knowing that this was probably bound to happen.
>You were definitely the anomaly here.
>Of course they’d stick you in the back.
>The two of you reach your table in silence, though you can’t help but look to the mare beside you.
>She certainly looks like some kind of shining white princess in this dark drab place.
>”Your waiter vill be wiv you soon.”  The pony sets down two menus with magic and says quickly.
>Probably in a hurry to get away from you.
>You walk over to Rarity’s chair and pull it out for her, and she acknowledges you with a smile that sort of makes you forget stuff.
>HNNNG
>It is that when you notice how low the tables are.
>And that these chairs are entirely too small.
>You walk to the other side of the table and stand there awkwardly.
>”Oh…right. Um…why don’t you just move the chair? I’m sure you can sit just fine.” She says with a soft giggle.
>You nod and pick up the little chair, setting it against the wall.
>You take a seat, indian style, and sure enough you’re at a pretty decent height.
>You kind of feel like you’re back at kindergarten though.
>You adjust a little and take up the menu.
>…but you can’t read it.
>The hell, why would they put the sign in English but write the menu in p0ny?
>”What are you getting, Anon?”
“Rarity, I can’t read this.”
>She cocks her head slightly, regarding you silly likely.
>She knows you can’t read this shit.
>”Well, I’m not going to read it to you Anonymous. You’ve been here long enough to learn the language.” She says plainly, and goes back to the menu, holding it up with her magic.
>…you’re not going to argue with her, you had ample time.
>But languages were not your forte, and as a baker you kind of didn’t really need to read a lot of shit to get the job done.
>And Pinkie had already translated all of her recipes for you to copy in English.
>Whatever. This is an Italian place.
>For a drink you’ll probably just order water, to be cheap. And they’re bound to have some kind of spaghetti meal.
>So what if you embarrass yourself a little in front of the waiter? He can suck your nuts.
>You’re going to make this dinner fucking awesome.
>”Hullo madame and monsieur!” A voice speaks to you as you take your eyes off the scribblings in the menu.
>A pink pony with a thick black mustache stands aside the table. His toupee is so obviously about to fall off that it’s hard to stifle a laugh.
>Wait why was he speaking French?
>He sets down a basket of breadsticks from his little side table and turns to Rarity.
>”Welcome to ‘Oh my god I love pasta’, I will be your waiter today. Have you chosen a wine for this evening?”
>Is that seriously the name of this place?
>You stifle a laugh.
>She regards the pony curiously, but then flips the menu open.
>”Yes, I will have a bottle of the Canterlot Special Reserve, the 5 year.”
>Oh god you hope that’s not an expensive wine.
>Damn these pony scribbles.
>”Excellent choice madame.”  He says, nodding.

>The waiterpony looks to you.
>Blue eyes, a pink coat, and black hair…the hell kind of pony is this?
>Whatever.
“And I’d like a coffee, black.”
>Rarity gives you an incredulous look.
“What? I’ve been for a while, Rarity.”
>She rolls her eyes.
>”Very well sir. One coffee, two sugars and a little whipped cream.”
>Before you can comment, he rushes away from the table.
>…you didn’t order that though.
>”Certainly a nice fellow, wasn’t he?” Rarity pipes up, returning her eyes to the menu.
“Uh, yeah I guess so.”
>After that, a sort of awkward silence fills the air.
>You fidget a little.
>This tie was suddenly getting a little tight around your neck as well.
>You pick up a breadstick and start to munch on it.
>…it even tastes like Olive Garden’s breadsticks.
>You make sure to wipe your hands on the provided napkins, just in case Rarity is watching out of the corner of her eye.
>But she’s been quiet this whole time.
>Maybe she’s waiting for you?
“So…you make dresses huh?”
>”Among other things, yes, I am a seamstress. Wasn’t that obvious, darling?”
>She says all this matter-of-factly and without raising her vision from the menu.
>Sheesh.
>You’re definitely no good at this.
>After a few more seconds of post-spaghetti spaghetti, the waiterpony returns with the wine.
>He seems to be having difficulty with the corkscrew, however.
>What with the hooves and all, you can’t blame him.
“Here let me try.” You offer, standing up and taking the bottle and tool from him.
>Surprisingly he says nothing and simply watches as you deftly open the bottle with no effort, the cork popping out happily.
>You hold out the bottle, but he refuses to take it, instead he motions slightly with his head to Rarity, who is looking at you.
>Uh.
>With wavering hands you pour the wine into Rarity’s glass, and then into your own, setting the bottle on the table.
>When you turn, you notice the pony is gone.
>And when you return to your seat, you notice a second basket of breadsticks aside from the first.
>…maybe this place was better than Olive Garden?
>”What do you think of the wine, darling?” Rarity asks, raising the glass to her lips with her magic, sipping at it daintily.
>You regard the red liquid with a wary glance.
>You tried not to drink, back on earth.
>You always ended up making poor life choices when you did.
>Oh well, you only live once.
>You grasp the glass firmly.
>And take a sip.
>…it tastes like wine.
>You wish you could say that you taste the leather and the fruit and the nuances but goddamn it just tastes like wine to you.
>And you don’t really like wine much.
>But Rarity is looking at you as if she’s attempting to bore into your brain.
“Uh, it’s nice. I like the…fruitiness.”
>Oh god you hope that works.
>”Well, I’ve certainly had better. Did you want to try another?”
>Wine is always expensive, isn’t it?
“No, it’s quite drinkable, Rarity. I don’t mind it.”
>She nods and takes another sip.
>”So have you decided on your meal, darling?”
“I’m getting the spaghetti.”
>”Well that’s not very interesting of you, Anonymous. Why don’t you at least try the…the ‘Penne all’arribbiata’? That sounds like it’d be good.”
>Oh shit what the hell is that.
>Think…culinary school…
>…nothing.
“Um…that was my next choice.”
>”Have you two decided on your entrée, or do you need a little more time?” The waiterpony asks, somehow appearing out of your field of vision.
>Fuck the what.
>”Yes, I will have the eggplant caponata.” Rarity says plainly, setting the menu down. Her gaze is still kept on you.
>”Very well, and for the sir?”
>And you can still feel the sweat on your neck.
>You adjust your tie slightly.
“I’ll…have the arri…arriabababttat?”
>Rarity covers her mouth with a hoof, giggling at your inability to into Italian accent.
>”Excellent choice sir. One Arriabababttat, coming up.” The waiter says without missing a beat, collecting the menus.
“Wait I-“
>Once again the pony scurries off.
>You turn back to the table and find another basket of breadsticks joining the other two.
>As well as another glass of water.
“Wait where the hell are all of these breadsticks coming from?”
>Rarity shrugs and drinks her wine, the glass empty now.
“And wow you’re drinking that kind of fast aren’t you?”
>Her gentle demeanor turns to one a little more annoyed in an instant.
>”And you haven’t even touched yours, Anonymous.”
>You grab the glass and manage a man-sized gulp.
>”Anonymous! Why are you just guzzling it! My word, you’ve been quiet this whole time as well. Honestly, it seems like you’re not really enjoying yourself.”
“Rarity, I…”
>With an angry huff she scrambles out of her chair.
>”I’m going to the little mare’s room. You had best be in a better mood when I get back.”
>Well shit.
>So, you sit there at the table, alone.
>Idly munching on a breadstick.
>You actually can’t really taste it all that well, since the wine has since knocked out your taste buds.
>But the garlic is certainly there, you’re sure.
>…you weren’t going to have pleasant breath after this.
>It’s not like you needed it.
>What were you going to be doing, kissing someone?
>That’s s-silly!
>…
>Especially at this rate.
>OH GOD WHAT ARE YOU THINKING
>Anon this is a date; if it doesn’t end in a kiss then you’re doing it wrong!
>Voice in your head has a point.
>But you didn’t realize the implications of this date fully.
>…well you’ll cross that hurdle when you get there.
>Right now you have to make sure that this date doesn’t end disastrous.
>But what in the hell were you supposed to talk about?
>Maybe just…talk to her about yourself?
>Jeez you were no good at that.
>And to top it all off…how were you supposed to pay for all this?
>What, will a random giant coin fly into another p0ny’s chest to pay for everything?
>The hell was up with that.
>And what the hell did you just order?
>And what the FUCK was up with that dream about Pinkie earlier?
>Oh god this damned date is going to end so badly.
>You pour yourself another glass of wine and top off Rarity’s.
>Maybe if she’s drunk she won’t notice how horrible you were at all of this.
>You might as well try your best.
>…
>You look to your wrist and wished you had a watch.
>Rarity is taking a hell of a long time in the bathroom.
>You catch yourself in a yawn.
>Where the hell is that coffee?
>On cue, the waiter pony walks in from behind you, setting down the white cup.
>It is indeed topped with a heaping mountain of whipped cream.
>You turn to the pony, and he smiles at you before trotting off.
>You’re being stalked by the waiter, it seems.
>…that’s some damn good service.
>And the coffee is actually pretty good.
>Tastes a lot like how you take it back at the bakery.
>After a little more silent nibbling on a breadstick and some more wine, Rarity returns.
>She wears a plan look on her face as she takes a seat.
>”Well, Anonymous, I trust you’re better?”
“Yeah, I’d like to think so.”
>”Good. This is supposed to be a nice evening for the two of us.”
>She runs her hoof across the necklace and smiles softly, her eyes half lidded.
>”…and I’d really like to enjoy myself. I’m sorry if I’ve came off as…sort of harsh. Let’s start over?”
>You exhale sharply and nod.
“I’d like that.”
>Maybe this won’t be so bad.
>”So…Anonymous. You work with Pinkie at the bakery?”
>She wants you to talk about yourself.
>Interesting.
“Uh, yeah I work at the bakery. It’s alright.”
>She takes a sip of her wine.
>”I’ve never really been a fan of cooking. I’ve only learned enough to cook for myself and Sweetie Belle. And even then, baking was always difficult for me.”
“Yeah, baking is a much different skill than just regular cooking. I actually went to go to school and train under professionals, back home.”
>She giggles at you.
>”You went to baking school? Whyever for? Pinkie never did. And her cutie mark isn’t even baking.”
>Ouch.
“Things are different with humans, I think.”
>”If you say so, Anonymous. You truly are a curious creature.”
“Likewise, Rarity. Your uh, cutie mark is diamonds. So you’re a geologist?”
>She gives you an incredulous look.
>”A what, Anonymous?”
“Uh, you’re good with stones and earth and stuff?”
>Suddenly she scowls and shakes her head at you, her purple squiggles swaying back and forth.
>”No, Anonymous. I am not a geologist. If you must know, my cutie mark is the ability to find rare gemstones , which I use to add extra dazzle to my clothings.”
>You shrug and slump a little.
“Sorry, I’m not very good with…uh, Pony stuff.”
>You weren’t.
>You didn’t really care about the history or the semantics of cutie marks or whatever.
>You should probably care more, if you’re going to assimilate more into this world.
>”And you’ve been here how long? My word, Anonymous. You really should step up your game a little.”
>”You can’t read our language…you know nothing of cutie marks. Why, I bet you’ve not even spent a lot of time among ponies other than Pinkie, have you?”
>That sort of stung you like a javelin to the chest.
“…what happened to having a good time, Rarity.”
>You sigh and cast your gaze aside.
>She was right, though.
>You didn’t mean to be, but you were sort of a loner.
>And you were even less ambitious here than you were on Earth.
>What the hell were you thinking, taking her out like this.
>”Oh…I’m sorry Anonymous, I didn’t mean to offend. It was an observation, darling, nothing more.” She says, crooning her neck so she’s in your gaze.
>…she looks slightly apologetic at the very least.
>You raise your head back up, your eyes probably looking like a beaten puppy’s.
>”Please forgive me? I know I can come off as somewhat harsh at times.”
“It’s fine, Rarity. Just forget about it.”
>She huffs quietly but remains silent.
>You take another swig of your wine.
>You’re probably slightly drunk by now, but the dark room and the lack of entertainment is sort of killing the amusement.
>You wonder how Rarity is faring.
>Judging by her lack of a blush and her normal demeanor, you figure she can handle her drink.
>But this silence is goddamn painful.
>Just then, the Waiter pony returns with a cart, two plates covered in silver cloches.
>Way to go culinary school vocabulary.
>”Your food has arrived.”
>With a modicum of grace, he lifts the plate with his teeth (oh god) and sets it in front of Rarity.
>He does the same with yours, and doesn’t seem to notice your grimace.
>Oh god he put his mouth on your plate.
>That’s a horse’s mouth.
>Jesus christ how horrifying.
>…but they don’t have hands so that’s probably the only way to do it.
>You cringe and look to Rarity as the p0ny removes the food cover on her dish.
>”Oh this looks absolutely delicious!” Rarity exclaims.
>It doesn’t look bad at all, but the smell is…interesting.
>Judging from the composition, you figure it’s a sort of stewed vegetable dish, and it doesn’t look half bad.
>Eggplant, probably some squash. Looks to be some kind of nut there.
>You’d probably try it.
>The pony walks over to your plate and puts his disgusting teeth on the little metal handle.
>You cease breathing for a second and try to keep a straight face.
>Then the scent hits you like a mack truck to the face.
>It nearly burns your nostrils, and you notice the waiterpony quickly leaving the vicinity.
>”Bon appétit mon Cherie!” She says, turning to you rather than Rarity.
>That’s French.
>Why did they hire a French speaking p0ny for an Italian restaurant?
>Whatever.
>He trots off, pushing the little cart away.
>”Oh, waiter, please hold!”
>He turns, cocking his head.
>”Yes?”
>”Would you happen to have any silverware?”
>”Of course, madame.” He pulls a rolled napkin of silverware  from under the cart and hands it to Rarity.
“And one for me, if you have it?”
>He nods, and pulls another, placing it aside your steaming plate of pasta.
>There’s a little wet mark where his teeth touched it.
>Deep breaths, Anon.
>Distract yourself with the food.
>You unroll the napkin with a little difficulty, making sure not to touch the slobber mark, and take out the fork.
>It’s actually very small in your hand.
>You notice Rarity is using her magic to lift her silverware and is enjoying her meal in silence.
>Must be nice.
>Your meal is penne pasta with some kind of fiery red sauce over it.
>It reminds you of spaghetti but there’s clearly a lot of scoville in this meal.
>And you really didn’t like spicy food.
>But if you sent it back, it might ruin the meal.
>Stupid restaurant drama.
“Uh…Rarity, how’s the caponata?”
>”Absolutely wonderful, Anonymous. Would you like to try it?”
>You nod. At least that would give you a little time to figure out what to do with your food.
>She daintily stabs a few bits of her meal onto the fork and levitates the fork toward you.
>You reach for it, but of course she pulls it back.
>”Ah ah ah, let me feed you.” She giggles, clearly enjoying this.
>You decide to humor her, opening your mouth and rolling your eyes slightly.
>She slides the fork into your mouth and you instantly taste a sweetness that you weren’t expecting.
>Probably from onions? You don’t really know because you weren’t great with savory applications.
>But it’s not bad. Kinda salty, and the vegetables were cooked alright.
>…you hope they had unicorn chefs in the back and that these weren’t all chopped with mouth-held knives.
>God you’re having a hard time getting over that.
>You swallow and smile slightly.
“That was actually pretty nice, Rarity.”
>She nods, beaming wide.
>”What about yours, you haven’t tried it yet.”
“It’s uh…it smells really spicy.”
>”Well of course, Anon. You ordered the red pepper penne. Did you expect it to be mild?”
“…Rarity I had no idea what I was ordering.”
>”Well that sounds like a personal problem, Anonymous. I dearly hope you’re not planning on sending it back.”
>You were, but now that she’s clearly against it, you’re not so sure.
>Shakily, you take up the fork and poke at the penne.
>Spicy food fucks you up, Anonymous.
>And you’re slightly intoxicated.
>You know this probably won’t end well.
>Fuck it.
>You’re probably fucking this date up by the second anyway.
>You stab a forkful of the pasta and quickly shove it in your mouth.
>Your tongue begins to curse the gods as the burning hot sauce tortures your tastebuds.
>Tears well up in your eyes and you struggle to even pull the fork out of your burning lips.
>You oblige, and set the fork down with an uncharacteristic slam.
>”Anonymous? Are you okay?” Rarity asks, looking genuinely concerned, or at least you hoped she looked that way.
>Your eyes were getting a little cloudy.
>And if you kept this in your mouth any longer you were probably going to cause lasting damage to your tongue.
>So you force it down your throat with a gasp.
>And you regret it nearly immediately.
>The fiery pasta dips down your throat, and you immediately chug the rest of your coffee, noticing a distinct lack of water on the table.
>The hot liquid only exacerbates the issue, sending a scalding fluid down to chase the scoville laden pasta.
>This, of course, causes you to reject the food in a rather spectacular brown and red spew directly in front of you.
>And by directly in front of you, you mean, directly at Rarity, who is less than a foot away.
>You don’t even give her a second glance, barely even able to see the look of shocked disgust at your display.
>You bolt your way to…oh shit where are the restrooms.
“Where the fuck are the restrooms.” You bellow to the area, eyes all on you for a moment.
>But you don’t care. And no one answers you, of course.
>Your mouth is on fire, your stomach upset, and you just threw up all over your date.
>You pass a table shared by two rather posh looking ponies, and they hold a glass carafe of water.
>You take up the carafe without a second thought and douse your throat in cool liquid.
>It helps a little.
>You stand there panting as the two ponies look at you, speechless.
>You don’t have a chance to do anything more as you find yourself levitated off of the ground.
>”ANONYMOUS!” Rarity’s voice screams from behind you.
>Oh look, Rarity’s here.
>She spins you around violently, your alcohol ridden mind turning at an uncomfortable pace.
>Wine was a bad choice after all.
>”LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO MY DRESS!” She screams, her sapphire eyes  nearly glowing red with rage.
>True enough, her dress is covered in your spew.
>Apparently you had more in you than just a forkful of pasta, though you can’t remember breakfast this morning.
>”Maam, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
>A pony in a black suit that looks important confronts Rarity, causing her to drop you with a slam.
>You groan in displeasure and roll over, hoping your head would stop swirling.
>You hadn’t drank THAT much wine, had you?
>”Excuse me?” She screams, turning to the other pony as you watch on.
>Oh god if only you could get up.
>Something grabs you at the nape of your shirt and starts to drag you.
>You turn and see the waiterpony, your shirt in his mouth.
“Oh hey.” You whisper idly in his direction.
>He looks a little more concerned than a waiter should.
>How is he dragging you, you’re like two hundred pounds.
>The shouting continues as the waiter drags you out of the restaurant, seemingly ignored by the other populace.
>Rarity is probably throwing the hissy fit to end all hissy fits.
>You are so glad that you’re not there to witness it.
>The pony slides you onto the steps of the restaurant, where you close your eyes, suddenly tired from the day.
>You groan a thanks at him, though it probably sounds more like a “ranks” through your grumbly mouth.
>”Come on Nonny, lets get you home.” He says, in a voice that sounds rather familiar all of the sudden.
“Kay.”
>You decide it a better idea to just lie there with your eyes closed.
>Questions can be answered on the morn.
>You feel yourself being dragged again.
>Or you would have, if you hadn’t passed out.

>”Pinkie, you know normally I’d ask you what in the world Is going on, but for now I think I’ll just be quiet.”
”Thanks Twilight.”
>You are Pinkie Pie.
>And this was supposed to be the best night of his life.
>You were supposed to be his helping hoof.
>Apparently being a waiter in a restaurant undercover means that you actually have to work.
>This is nothing like when you were a spy during the Geldingeye incident.
>So you were pretty much unable to help him out in his time of need.
>And apparently he somehow ended up throwing up on Rarity and making a fool of himself in the restaurant.
>You had the foresight to tell Twilight to show up later, as a just-in-case measure.
>She could tele-poof around anyway, so it’s not like it was really a big deal.
“I’m so glad you showed up Twilight. Rarity’s in there going nutso on the owner and Anonymous may or may not have um…ruined her dress.”
>Twilight blinks at you blankly.
>”We need to get out of here.”
“Ya think?”
>She looks down to a vomit covered passed out Anonymous for an instant before she hears  a crash inside.
“Sorry Nonny…” you whisper as tears stream down your face.
>With a purple flash, the three of you vacate the premises.