fandomhigh | The Elements of Friendship, Thursday, Period 1

Any students who made it to class today would find the Danger Shop set up like a cozy, barn-loft-ish room with hardwood floors and a long, cheerfully decorated table. In fact, the whole place was done up with balloons and streamers and there was a giant, multiteared cake at the head of the table.

"Surprise!" shouted Pinkie. "Everyone's been having such a super terrible time of it lately, I thought it best that we just relax and have ourselves a little cheer. And what better way to be cheery than with a party?"

This might seem a bit inappropriate but not all that strange -- except that Pinkie's hair was dead straight and her eyes weren't quite tracking.

"I want you all to meet some friends of mine!" She gestured to the table, where, arranged on stools in places of honor and wearing party hats sat a bucket of turnips, a pile of rocks, a ball of lint, and a sack of flour. "This is Mr. Turnip, Rocky, Sir Lint-a-Lot, and Madame Le Flour! Say hi, everypony!" And she rushed to the table, where she ducked behind Madame Le Flour to make her wave her . . . top right corner . . . at the students with a cheerful, high pitched, French accented "Good day students! Welcome to our party!"

"And of course," Pinkie said, zipping back out in front of the table. "There's our very special guest of honor!" She twitched into a grimace, then grinned again, before zipping around the cake to wheel out a strange pony statue made out of junk. It had purple yarn hair sprouting from a blue teapot head, with yellow streamers for wings and a purple and orange body made out of PVC piping. "This is Twiflutterrainapple Dashjackshysparkity! She's just dying to meet you!"

This could not be good.

[Party is partially taken from 1x25, "Party of One". Pinkie doesn't react well to stress.]

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"Who?" Rilla asked. "A doctor, maybe?"

"Do you think the clinic has a psych ward?"

This was a totally serious question.

"I've never checked," Rilla replied after a moment. "It might need one today."

"I hope so. This is not normal behavior."

Really, Annie? You think?

"Even for a talking pink pony," Rilla agreed. "And if I said that sentence out loud at home, I'd be carted off to an asylum in short order."

"I advise you never do that," Annie decided helpfully.

Rilla nodded. "I think I want to go home," she confessed.

"I've been thinking about it," Annie confessed back. "You think you're going to?"

"I think it might be better for Jims," Rilla said. There's a war at home, but it's very far away from us. This doesn't seem very far away at all."

"And nothing weird's been happening at home?" she checked.

Rilla shook her head. "My mail was delayed, but that was because of delivery problems. I'll 'phone home after class to be absolutely cure."

"Good. And if anything's wrong, you... go somewhere not there." She was so helpful.

"Like Nova Scotia," Rilla said. "Nothing interesting ever happens there."

That's not really how it works, Rilla.

"...Sure," Annie said. Maybe there was some secret Canadian thing about Nova Scotia. "When do you think you're going?"

"As soon as I can," Rilla said. "I don't trust the portals."

"So... good luck?" She had no idea what to say in times like this. She was from somewhere totally normal.

Ish. Greendale would be its own thing.

Rilla's lips quirked up. "And to you," she said softly. "I imagine communication is going to get...difficult."

"Maybe just a tiny bit," Annie said, complete with the universal gesture for 'tiny bit.' "But that's okay. We'll figure it out, and everything will get back to normal, and we'll all have a good laugh about this when it's over and fixed."

Relentless optimism, this one. When she wasn't having public breakdowns, anyway.

The Elements of Friendship, Thursday, Period 1

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