Mind Fucking

>"Nonners, can you make me a sandwich?"
>You let the question float in the air a bit
>It processes for a bit longer, and it takes a bit more before you lower your paper and turn your head toward the speaker
>It was your neighborhood pink party pony, the great poofy menace herself
>Pinkie Pie
>The earth pony was staring up at you with her usual bright and cheery smile, her baby blues alive with hope and wonder
>You lower your paper a little more, leaning forward
"A peanut butter sandwich?" you asked
>Pinkie blinked, a bit of confusion flashing across her face, before her smile doubled in size
>"U-huh!"
"Do you want it toasted?"
>"Sure!"
"What about with the crust cut off?"
"That'd be great!" Pinkie said, now bouncing in place
"What about a glass of milk to go with it? Nothing goes better with a peanut butter sandwich than a ice cold glass of milk."
>"Whooooo! I'd love some milk! And some hay chips too! The barbecue kind!"
>You nodded and, with a flick of your paper, brought it back up to cover your face
"Have at it then, champ. I know you can do it."
>Though you didn't see it, Pinkie froze in the air mid bounce for a good three seconds
>"What? But I thought you were gonna make it!" she said
>You flipped a page in your newspaper, being sure to be wiggle the pages so that it was as loud as possible
"But what if I don't know how to make a sandwich?" you asked
>Pinkie snorted
>"Not make a sandwich? All stallions know how to make sandwiches, silly," she said. "They're raised in the kitchen after all."
"But I'm not a stallion," you replied. "A space stallion that had a space kitchen and space bread. How the heck do I know making my sandwich here won't blow something up."
>Pinkie raised a hoof, opening her mouth to reply
>Before she could though, a thoughtful expression flashed across her face
>She frowned, lowering her hoof
>"Well... That's actually a really good question," she admitted
>You nodded, crossing a leg over your knee

"I'm tellin' ya, there's at least a eighty-five percent chance that something really bad could happen if I tried to make you a sandwich, ponks. I mean, I want to, I really do, but me doing so could destroy the fabric of reality. Or something like that."
>Pinkie sat down
>"I'm... I'm sorry that I asked, Nonners," she said, looking down at the ground. "I just wanted a sandwich. I didn't think it'd be so dangerous..."
"Don't think anything about it, my pink amigo," you said. "I just need someone to show me how it's done here is all, then the world-ending nonsense I can get up to might not be as bad."
>Pinkie's ear perked up
>"Really?"
"Oh sure. Hey, you're a pretty good cook right? Why don't you go ahead and whip up a sandwich real quick. I'm sure if I just look at it I'll be on my way to being a sandwich-making machine in no time."
>Pinkie's smile returned to her face in full force
>"Alrighty, Nonner!" she said, leaping to her hooves. "Pinkie will show you how it's done! One peanut butter sandwich coming up!"
"With milk."
>"With milk!"
"And don't forget the chips."
>"Chips too!"
>With that, the pink party pony make her way toward Sugarcube Corner, a hop in her step
>You clicked your tongue, turning another page in your paper
"No ponk. YOU make me a fucking sandwich..."