The Hangover Was More Fun (Pinkie)
|The Hangover Was More Fun (Pinkie)|
|Date of Cutscene:||21 September 2014|
|Synopsis:||Pinkie and Cranky are at it again, arguing at the table.|
|Cast of Characters:||470|
At least by now the headache was bearable. A potent and ancient mix of holistic shaman healing, consisting of coffee, gatorade, and aspirin had done wonders for the monster hangover and terribly stiff neck that Pinkie woke up to after a night of wild partying with pirates at the Bar and Grill at the edge of the Multiverse. Yet still the nagging throb of a small army of Breezies pounding sledgehammers against her skull from within persisted.
And then it got worse.
"Headache, Pinkie Pie?"
Just hearing Cranky Doodle's rasp of a voice instantly cranked the pink party pony's discomfort up by several levels. See the thing is, as much as she likes him when there's no business involved, when it came to the meetings around the Bone Table of Baltimare, in the crypts under the city, things were always business.
"Oh no, I'm just great." The clown replied, rubbing at a temple where the sweet smile of her porcelain mask meets her face. "Just partied a little too hard last night!"
Never the less, Cranky wasn't smiling. "Really? Pinkie Pie partied too hard? I never thought I'd see the day. Then again you did seem to have quite a bit of fun neglecting your duties. Sliding off world? Airing our cult's dirty laundry to that federal agent playing at being a Blank Hip just like you? Taking a trip down memory lane? Partying when there is much work to do?
Pinkie wasn't smiling anymore. In fact the slow reach of one gloved hand into her old raiment was enough to set the tone, as the bright pink colored outfit drained of almost all color instantly, washing out to a faded mockery of the revelry it once represented as she ominously set a new mask down on the table in front of her, a blank faced mirthless smile of murder and wrath etched on the porcelain
"Well I thought I'd just take a few days off after -your- Harl-Equines forgot I'm a prophet too and tried to kill me." She sisses, voice lowering to a papery rustle rasp, bringing a tension to the table once more that halts the other prophets present in a dead silenc
To this, Cranky holds up his hands, palms out. "They do have something of a rivalry with your Jesters." He deflects, but Pinkamena does not find this answer satisfactory.
"They. Tried. To. KILL. ME." The murderous clown breathes venomously. "The Harl-Equines. Tried. And FAILED to kill the Archmagister- who you know is MY target, and they tried to kill -ME-." She shrieks, voice shrill and cracking with the sudden fury that makes the table's occupants begin to fidget. Lucky for them the flare of her headache kicks in on full force, one hand cradling porcelain forehead in order to simply try and sigh away the pain. 'This is -exactly- why I took a vacation from everything here you sanctimonious ass."
Cranky shrugs off the insult, placing his hands together once more to steeple gangly and boney old fingers. More and more, Pinkie began to muse on how the mudty old crypts really did suit the old donkey who was apparently too stubborn to fall over and die. "Well your vacation is up. Take your Jesters and poke at the Archmagister some more if you feel she is yours to kill, then do something about it rather--"
"I'm sorry?" Cranky halts, genuinely perplexed. "I do believe you just expressed your severe distaste for them. They'll never work for you anyway."
"Give me fifteen of your best Harl-Equines." Pinkamena sisses once more. "I don't care how much they hate me and the Jesters. I don't care if they refuse, I don't care how much they complain at being led by a Jester, you order them to follow me or I'll put smiles on them in their sleep, tonight, myself."
Derpy seemed the most disturbed by the nature of the Jester Prophet's extremely overt threat, ducking her head under the table, bringing her hooves up to cover her ears. The Bearer of Good News knows when there's no good news to be had, and a consoling pat from Mayor Mare at her side doesn't help the ditzy messenger very much.
"Fine." Cranky relents. "Do you have any MORE outrageous requests, Pinkie Pie?"
With one hand the Jester Prophet makes a shooting gun fingerbang motion right at the old ass of a man, flicking a rubber band at his chest as a result. "Unicorns. They all have to be unicorns, and I'll send Twilight Sparkle a hilarious message she'll never forget."
It wouldn't be the first time Pinkamena has thrown lives away, tossing them into a grinder of blood and death. But this time they wouldn't be hers. Just another little lesson in spite for the High Prophet, while putting the fear of The Laughing Mare into Twilight Sparkle... As far as Pinkie was concerned, the meeting was over, rising from her seat to leave Cranky and the others and sleep off the rest of the nightmarish pounding in her head, with one last whisper.
"It'll be hilarious..."