Pink pone is worst pone

>You hate all of your everything
>Pinkie apparently learned that you don’t like her.
>At all.
>And now she has decided to spend as much time as it takes with you for you to like her.
>You don’t know if you’ll kill yourself first or if she’ll give up first.
>Knowing Pinkie, you’ll be finding a sharp knife soon to end your misery.
>Day one of suffering…
>You wake up to smell of fresh pancakes. Sitting up, you find that Pinkie is waiting next to your bed with a tray full of breakfast.
>You look at her with a bleary, tired look. She looks at you with a large and somewhat terrifying smile.
>”I made you breakfast in bed!”
“How did you make breakfast if you were in bed?”
>”I dragged the stove over. Here you go!”
“I don’t eat breakfast, thank you.”
>Her smile takes a small hit, but she was holding her defenses well. “Oh well.” She distended her jaw and managed to scarf down everything on the plate.
>If your stomach wasn’t empty, that would have made you vomit.
“That is both disgusting and horrifying. Please leave.”
>”Not until you’re my friend!”
>God fucking dammit.
“Then at least get out of my room. I need to take a shower.”
>”Need somepony to wash your back?”
“No. Nor do I need someone to wash any other part of me.”
>She sighed, her grin drooping even more. She perked up a second later, though. “Oh well. I need to wash dishes anyway!”
“Have fun with that.”
>She quickly leaves your room, doing a three-legged walk out with the tray still on one of her hooves.
>When she’s finally gone, you remove yourself the rest of the way from your bed, boner flopping lazily in the wind.
>So you sleep in the buff. Wanna fight about it? Because then you’d be grappling with a dude that has a full boner and you’d feel really uncomfortable.
>No? That’s what I thought.
>You grab a towel and head to your bathroom.


>A quick shower later—no shave, because you roll around town with a full beard—and you head downstairs to find Pinkie tinkering around with some of your tools and experiments.
>”What does this one do?” she asks, holding up an experimental light bulb.
“If you very gently put it down, I’ll explain.”
>You were an electrical engineer back home. Your artsy parents always told you that you’d never be happy with an engineering degree. And now here you are in Equestria, living in the first magically independent house in the land of horses.
>She put the light bulb down, looking at you with rapt attention.
“That light bulb is called a blacklight, or at least that’s what it’s supposed to be called. When turned on in a dark area, it illuminates certain chemicals and colors and makes them more noticeable. Someone like you, for example, would light up like the sun.”
>”Oooh, is it because I’m pink?”
>No, it’s because you’re a slut that’s probably covered head to toe in dry jizz.
“Sure. Anyway, that one doesn’t work correctly yet. I can’t find the right tint for the bulb. Don’t you have work today?”
>”Nope! The Cakes give me all the time off I need because I get called to help the princesses so much. I don’t get paid, but it’s worth it to make a new friend!”
“Uh huh.”
>Oh God why.
>”You know, I’m a pretty good inventor myself. One time, I made a flying machine that could soar through the air!”
“That’s nice. Now, I need to get to work. I promised Princess Luna that I’d have a working radio by the end of the week, and I can’t work with you yammering on.”
>”I can help!”
“I’m sure you can. However, I don’t want your help. I would rather you go away.”
>”But why? It would be a lot more fun if we worked together!”


“Because having to explain why I’m doing what I’m doing would make building this thing take four times as long. If you can promise to not ask questions, I can tolerate your proximity considerably easier. However, I don’t think I will go so far as to accept your ‘help,’ however useful you think it would be.”
>”But if you can’t explain how it works, how will anypony else ever understand it?”
“I can explain how it works. I just can’t do it succinctly. Since I need a working prototype sooner rather than later, I’d rather just build the damn thing and teach everyone how it works after I’ve proven that it does work.”
>”…Oh. I can hand you tools!”
“On the condition that you stop talking, I can accept that.”
>She did a hoof pump and whispered, “Yes!” before jumping to my side.
>I sighed and began working, knowing I was in for a long week.

>Your ‘party’ is on day three. You knew it was coming, you just didn’t know when.
>The only guest is Pinkie herself.
>That isn’t to say that you don’t have friends. Zecora, Applejack, Bon-Bon, and Cheerilee are all very close friends of yours.
>It’s just that all of them have work that they can’t skip. Most of the rest of Pinkie’s closer friends that she would normally invite don’t much care for you.
>While Fluttershy understands that your diet requires meat, she doesn’t care for it. You can understand that.
>Twilight doesn’t like your distrust and dislike of magic, and tends to be personally offended when you come up with nonmagical means of doing everything the ponies know how to do only with magic. She also doesn’t like that Celestia wasn’t interested in your inventions that ended up garnering so much attention from everyone after Luna was willing to sponsor you. She is going to blow a gasket when she sees your working radio.


>You and Rarity tolerate each other. You need clothes and she likes hearing about human fashion. You don’t know much, but you tell her what little you can remember. That’s the depth of that particular relationship. Given that she is in Canterlot anyway, she is unable to attend.
>And you just don’t see Rainbow Dash enough to know her well enough that she’d be willing to be the only other guest at a Pinkie Party held in your honor.
>It was a short and awkward party. You don’t want to talk about it.

>Thankfully, you manage to finish your radio a day ahead of the week you had planned for Luna.
>Of course, you probably would have finished a day sooner had it not been for Pinkie.
>”Aren’t you glad that I was there to help?” she happily asked when you finished testing the device.
“No. Are you ready to give up this annoying game now?”
>”Are you ready to be my friend yet?”
“No. If anything, my dislike of you had increased.”
>Her entire body seemed to sag when she heard that. “B-but why?! I’ve been so nice to you! I helped, I threw you a party, I made you dinner… I even did your laundry!”
“And I thank you for each of those. However, being nice doesn’t make someone like you. It can help, of course, but if there are too many other problems with someone, that someone can be nice all they like and the other person still wouldn’t like them. Pinkie, you terrify me. I am a man of logic and science. You do things that are impossible. In this week, I have seen you maneuver your limbs in a way that is disgusting and impossible. I have seen you pop out of places that can’t possibly fit something else.”
>She seemed to sink farther and farther with each word.
“That isn’t the only reason I don’t like you, of course. I could keep going, but I really don’t want to hurt you.”


>She seemed to cheer up a little when she heard that. “Y-you don’t want to hurt me? Because you like me?”
“No. Because lying and learning what to and what not to say to others is how civilization survives. You can hate your coworkers all you want, but as long as you are able to tolerate them and work with them anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been here for six months and you only just recently learned that I didn’t like you. Toleration and discretion make society work.”
>She sniffled and looked down. “So why else don’t you like me?” she quietly asked.
>Oh boy.
“Your personality completely clashes with mine. I am quiet and tend to be more reserved. You are boisterous and outgoing, with tons of friends. That’s all well and good for you, but when you start using the same attitude you use with your normal friends on me, it does nothing but annoy me and show me that you don’t care about me or my feelings. You want to be my friend because you aren’t my friend, not because you know me and like personally being around me. If you knew me and liked being around me, you would know that those things annoy me and you would be calmer to make up for it.”
>She flinched a few times during your monologue. “I… I’ll just go…”
>You sigh at her tone, rubbing at your hair. You didn’t mean to make her so depressed…
“Wait. Remember what I said about tolerating coworkers?”
>She stopped her walk to the door, but didn’t turn around.
“If you want, you can help me show the radio off to Luna.
>Without looking at you, she answered, “No thank you, Anonymous.”
>Well, you tried. She leaves, pulling the door shut behind her.
“Oh well…”
>You go back to putting the finishing cosmetic touches on your project, relieved that your week of hell is over.
>And yet, you can’t help but feel bad for what you said.
>You shrug and concentrate on your work.
>Such is life in a world of relatively immature multi-colored horses.