Red Rum Cake #3

>you wake up to your alarm as planned, your mind whipping into gear the moment the protruding noise was made

>turning it off, you try to stretch a bit, turn on the lamp, and begin standing up

>there is a pink mare clinging to your chest like an lovable leech

Hey, wake up.

>no response

Oi, motherfucker. If you tear these sacred pajama tops, I swear I will end you.

>Pinkie is sleeping like a log, and she’s glued to your shirt

>after a poor attempt to separate her, you’re dumbfounded how she can attach herself to you like this without any major correspondent of posable fingers

>you shimmy out of your shirt, and place her back in the bed with her new baby blanket

>you cringe as she snuggles against it tighter, smiling subconsciously as she does so

If she rips that, she better be ready to work the streets to get me another one.

>you grab a new set of clothes, take the glass from last night, put it in the sink, and hit the shower to begin the usual routine

-----

>well dressed in a way that the finest of Canterlot envy, you tuck in a new ascot, velvet this time

>you head downstairs into the basement to grab your bloodied overcoat

>you don some long rubber gloves, and begin scrubbing a combination of rubbing alcohol and cleaning agents on the underside of it

>after thoroughly removing the blood, you pull out a stitching set and work on repairing it

>thankfully the scales are extremely had to pierce, and the blade simply slid under and between a couple scales

>if she came at a different angle, it wouldn’t even have scratched you

>you sow the separated scales from behind, and soon it looks good as new

>looking at your work, it doesn’t even look like the little killer a floor above took a stab at you

>you rinse and dry your gloves in the basement sink before readdressing to your shoulder wound

>it appears it’s not throbbing like before, and with time it’ll just be yet another scar

>if she went about half an inch to the left, she would have hit a major artery, and you most certainly wouldn’t be down here counting your blessings

>you grab the gauzes from your and Pinkie’s wounds, as well as the burlap bag, and open a side latch in the brick wall

>you toss the evidence into the crevice, close it, and push a button as thousands of degrees of heat incinerates it on the spot

>the smoke runs up a pipe, and emerges into your chimney

>cleaning the gloves once again before hanging them up, you grab the coat and toss it around your shoulders before you walk upstairs

-----

>a half hour later, it’s barely sunrise when you have the magic working in the kitchen

>eggs, toast, and a makeshift version of coffee

>the breakfast of classy killers

>making enough for the two of you, you just finish cooking the scrambling eggs when Pinkie finally walks into the kitchen

>it appears that whenever she’s low in either self-esteem or sugar, her hair retains a laid down state

>and that motherfucker is dragging your pajama tops

>relax, Anon, she just has minor security issues

>you pour half of the eggs on each plate, run the pan under cold water, and place it in the sink for later

Eat up, Pinkie. If I guess correctly, in about an hour Twilight is going to be pounding on my door with a guard or two, demanding either a good explanation or my arrest.

>she sits down quietly and, again despite the lack of gripping appendages, grabs the fork and begins eating

>this continues for about thirty seconds as you join her

>Pinkie: “Why do people insist on calling me Pinkie? I usually don’t mind it, and perhaps I’m not a huge fan of my full name, but you’d think they would ask to give me something more… thoughtful.”

>you contemplate on this, thinking of your own opinion

The name Pinkie is an excellent name, dear. What is your full name, if I may ask?

>Pinkie: “…Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

Would you prefer me to call you ‘Pink’, ‘Pinkie’, ‘Pinkamena’, ‘Diane’, or simply ‘Ms. Pie’?

>the look she shoots at you is a sharper knife than the one she sent into your clavicle

Hey, don’t give me that look. If you want me to call you something besides ’Pinkie’, I’ll do so now. We’re partners now, so I might as well hear this; what do you want me to address you as?

>her look softens as she glances away, embarrassed at the sudden choice given to her

>you can see in the dim lights of the kitchen she’s blushing, a slight contrast of rose over her cotton candy pink face

>Pinkie: “Pinkie will be fine, please…”

Very well then, it’ll be Anon the Purger and Pinkie the Pharmaceutical Nightmare.

>she grins at the random conjecture, and begins working on her toast

>Pinkie: “…Thank you.”

For what? When I’m being shown gratitude, I prefer to know what it is for specifically, unless it’s bluntly obvious.

>she gazes away again; it’s clear she’s not used to being talked to so much when she’s acting like this,

>she’s either having difficulty keeping her emotions under control, or she’s enjoying the hell out of it

>Pinkie: “For the meal, for helping me, and for… giving me a choice to be called. I like that.”

>you give a shrug as you begin sipping on your now lukewarm coffee

When you work with me, you get a few extra privileges, and a lot more respect. Just understand that while I may seem easygoing now, I’ll be a lot more strict and demanding at other times.

>she nods, smiling as she stares into her toast

For example; you’ll be returning to work under guidance of Twilight Sparkle, and apologize to Mrs. Cake for abandoning your shift. You’ll explain to her that a unicorn by the name of Trixie was sabotaging the food she prepared, and knocked her out. You’ll then claim she drugged Twilight and attacked me by throwing a knife into my shoulder, having wanted to take revenge on Twilight by killing her good friend.

>Pinkie let’s these thoughts sink in, nodding with each point to remember

You obviously don’t know what Trixie’s motives are really, but Twilight will likely make a claim about it before you can. Support her on this theory. Anyways, you came in and saw what was going on, and you attacked her with a cake tin.

>Pinkie: “A cake tin? Why would I use such a petty thing when I could have grabbed a butcher knife and-“

Because, I want to portray you as innocent, and would never be able to wield a knife that way. You fend  her off, and I took both myself and Twilight and booked it out of there. Now, don’t say this, but she knows at this point that she woke up here with me and the wound. You were below us at this point, but she doesn’t know that.

>Pinkie smiles at the secrecy and the deceit of the whole plan

>Pinkie: “This is getting better and better. Then what?”

Trixie defeated you.

>her face contorts with rage, and she’s ready let loose a few foul words before you interrupt her

It has to happen this way, Pinkie. Trixie overwhelms you, and you get the hell out of there with a stab wound from her knife. She chases you for a good bit, and you take to the sewers until you’re sure you lost her. You eventually made it to my house in confusion and panic after a few hours, and I treated you for blood loss and let you sleep on my couch.

>Pinkie: “Mmm…”

How’s your leg doing, by the way?

>she literally stands up on the chair and plops the wounded hoof in question, the cloth hardly scathed with blood

Alright. I’ll change the cloth once you finish talking with Twilight.

>she nods and reaches for the coffee, and you remove it from her possession

>she does not like this a single bit, her poker face tainted by a slight frown

>Pinkie: “What’d ya do that for?”

You need to sleep, or at least pretend you are, so that when Twilight gets here, she wakes you up and questions you.

>she glowers at you, apparently in need of some sort of sugar intake before she goes in a murderous rampage

>perhaps it’s better you let her have it, considering if she attacks Twilight, it would blow her cover

>you put it back in her possession, and stir in a decent amount of sugar for her taste buds’ pleasure

>letting her go at it, she gives you one last glance before she gets ready to swig it

>Pinkie: “I know you don’t like it when I act all giddy and ditzy, but please tolerate me when I’m my goofy usual self.”

Don’t worry about it. Farore knows I need a good laugh now and then.

>she grins as she downs the murky liquid, and soon static electricity goes to work, and within seconds her hair fluffs back up to her “usual” form

>Pinkie: “Hehehe! That stuff was icky~!”

Yeah, it’s not the best tasting stuff in the world. Now remember, you need to pretend you’re sleeping on the couch- OI, get back here!

>you rip out of your chair and snatch her midair as she was trying to bounce away with your nighties

>you liberate the shirt from her, much to her disappointment

>Pinkie: “Awww, Anon~! What am I supposed to sleep with?”

>you waltz to your bedroom, rest the beaten top on your bed, and grab your second pillow

>you toss it at her indifferently when you reenter the living room, which plops into her face while she’s bouncing on top of the couch

>Pinkie: “Ow, Anon! You wanna have a pillow fight, eh?<3”

No, I want you to lie down and pass out, while I wait for either Twilight to get here, or morning to pass so I can visit her.

>it’s like playing Plinko with Pinkie Pie, you can hardly guess what mood she’ll dish out next

>emotion of the minute is… annoyance!

>Pinkie: “Ugh, fine~! But we’re going to have fun when I come back, ok?”

Oh, we’ll be having fun, alright.

-----

>she passes out, or at least she’s doing a heck of a job pretending to do so

>you pour into Zecora’s book, engrossing yourself with its beautiful information

>an hour and a half past sunrise, it is to no one’s surprise that there was a sharp knock

>closing your book and quietly making to the entrance, you click the bolts unlocked, one by one

>upon opening the door, you’re well met with the ever sleep deprived Twilight, as well as two of Celestia’s burly guards

>you don’t like the authorities in your presence; their smug ways of stereotypically judging you a suspect was more than enough to peeve you the wrong way

>Twi: “I’m sure you know why we’re here.”

>normally inviting her in, you opt to step out of the door

>this gets the guards to look at each other

Look, there are a few things I need to tell you now, before I let you in.

>Twi: “They better be good, Anon. When we got to the ‘crime scene’, there was absolutely nothing there beyond a disoriented Mrs. Cake and unwashed dishes.”

Pinkie Pie was hurt from the fight, and she came in a little while after you left. She’s wounded, and sleeping in my house as we speak.

>this bewilders Twilight and the guards, trying to piece together a dozen pieces together in a 100-part puzzle

I don’t know what exactly happened yet, she nearly fainted when she reached my door last night. If you want to come in…

>Twi: “Of course I want to go in, she’s a-!”

>you raise a finger to your mouth

I don’t care if you’re under the Royal Decree; if you have any respect for me, Twilight, you’ll be quiet when entering. She had a rough night.

>she doesn’t know whether to shout louder or grin

>she doesn’t do either, but instead nods in agreement

>Royal Guard #1: “How dare you insult an agent of the-“

You will be waiting outside. Twilight trusts me, I hope. She knows I won’t let harm befall her.

>the guards seem ready to kick your ass

>you’re pretty well unarmed, and likely would lose if they decided to do so

>thankfully Twilight stops them before they go to town

>Twi: “It’s alright, guys, I believe him. Anon, if you would?”

>you quietly open the door with a bow, and Twilight strolls in like she runs the joint

>guards are muttering as you give them a cold stare with a matching smile on your way in

-----

>it’s dark in here save the lamp light

>no windows for personal reasons

>you turn on the lights to a groaning Pinkie Pie

Sorry kid, boss here has some questions, and quite frankly I do too. Twilight, would you like something to drink? I have tea, juice, water…”

>Twi: “Do you have apple juice? I could use something to wake me up.”

>Pinkie: “Mmm…! Me too~…”

You’re not getting any sugar until you get to work.

>Pinkie: “D’oh!”

>Twilight is amused by your comment

>Twi: “You think she’s going to work?”

Unless that wound she has is making her unable to move, then yes. I won’t be letting her sit around here and mooch.

>you go to get two things of apple juice

>you leave them untampered, despite the obvious temptation

>you give Twilight a glass and set yours on the table

>she stares at it uneasily and looks at you with doubt

>she will not give you a fucking break, she’s a smart one

>you take her glass and sip a small amount out of it to prove it’s not poisoned

>this makes her feel better and she takes her own sip

Anyhow. All you, Twilight- oh shit!

>you knock over your perfectly good glass of apple juice, spilling it across the table and the floor

>that is going to leave a fucking mark

>Twilight pipes up, excited to intervene

>Twi: “Don’t worry, Anon, let me take of it!”

>her good hearted nature shows as she vanishes the mess away

>exactly as planned

Thanks, Twilight. I’m gonna grab another glass, go away and do your thing.

>Twi: “*Nods* Pinkie, you need to go into detail as to EXACTLY what happened.”

>and Pinkie told it all, exactly as you said for her to do

>minutes pass as she sugar coats every last detail of the non-existent fight, her escape, and how she managed to get here

>this puts a ruffle in Twilight’s mane as you quietly sit in your armchair and sip away

>Twi: “Alright, Pinkie… *sigh* I believe you, but there’s two holes in your story that seems to stick out.”

>Pinkie: “Ooo, I hate holes! Holes mean less of something, unless it’s cheese, then it’s ok! But not cake, unless it’s me wh-“

>Twi: “Pinkie Pie.”

>the face Twilight gives is that of solemn focus on the pink mare, who in turn frowns at being interrupted

>if Pinkie is mad, she certainly doesn’t show it

>Twi: “Why did you come here, of all places? If you were hurt, it would have been a better idea if you went to the hospital, right? Plus, Anon here hardly knew you at all until yesterday.”

>this was something you had not prepared for, but you put faith in Pinkie in having something cooked up

>you have one blade hanging in the inside of your nearby overcoat if it gets sticky, but unicorns are a tricky bunch

>Pinkie: “I…”

>Twi: “I…?”

>Pinkie: “I’m afraid of needles and being alone and hospitals and doctors and scalpel and nurses and bedpans and-“

>Twi: “Fine, so you don’t like hospitals.  That still doesn’t explain Anon.”

She was outside my house, bleeding in the streets and crying. I wasn’t going to turn her away since I have medical equipment. It wasn’t a major wound anyways, and apparently mares naturally regenerate better than humans.

>she looks at you scathingly, your reasoning appearing more than a weak excuse

>your logic and lack of witnesses make your word law in the world of evidence though

Look, I can’t provide you proof, and I know you can’t trust me as much as I’d like. However, you need to stop accusing innocent ponies and myself when you know that we didn’t do anything.

>this is a blow to her respect for you and her ego

>Twi: “Anon…”

It’s been pissing me off, Twilight, that I’ve been trying to help you with your case, despite the fact I’ve proven myself innocent multiple times and could easily blow you off in moments like these.

>you’re about to put her in fucking tears, and you lighten your tone

>you reach forward and rest your hand on her shoulder

>Twi: “I’m sorry… I’m not good at this still… I can’t separate my feelings from the facts, and it’s frustrating when I don’t know everything.”

Hey, I know how that feels. Right now, we need to find the suspect we have proof of: this “Trixie” character. Did you gather any evidence at the crime scene?

>Twilight sighs, knowing full well either you or her were going to bring it up

>Twi:  “There was absolutely nothing there, which was why…”

>she ogles at a teetering pink mare, who is staring down the remains of your drink

>Pinkie: “Anon~!”

Sigh. Take it.

>you surrender your half full glass before you turn your attention back to Twilight

Twilight, this Trixie person… she is a unicorn, right?

>Twi: “Yes, Anon, *you* should know that…”

I’m just clarifying something; you remember that drink I spilled, that you cleaned up?

>Twilight beams with pride, somehow ignoring the point

>Twi: “But, of course!”

Can ALL unicorns remove liquids and other traces like that?

>you throw down one of your ace cards like the boss you are, as the peculiar realization pierces her mind

>Twi: “Anon… that’s genius thinking! However… the lack of any trace of evidence then really makes this case difficult.”

It’s not like there was a murder, Twilight- ignoring that fact that it would have been if Pinkie wasn’t there. However, you have much proof; a person and a pony’s testimony. Try to find any evidence that she might have left somewhere, and I’ll do my best to help you.

>she nods, standing up with a conviction of justice

>Twi: “Alright. I think I know enough for now; I’m going to go organize a search party and see if I can’t find-“

Hold up, I’ll come with you. Pinkie, come here.

>Pinkie Pie surprisingly obeys, having the sugar from the juice pumping her into action

>she hops wildly on over, the floor shaking with each bounce

First off: don’t jump. Second-

>you lift her up, as she giggles at the weightlessness

>Pinkie: “Heehee! Anon, be gentle with me~!”

Shush, and let me check your bandages.

>you set her on your lap, with Twilight watching with piqued interest

>checking Pinkie’s remnant of her wound, you’re surprised that it’s mostly closed up

>looks like stitches won’t be required

>Betty’s wet juices and sugar-driven glue is all that’s need to seal this baby up

>you point at a yellow bottle at the top of the cabinet

Hey Twilight, could I trouble you with getting…?

>she catches on quickly, and uses her magic to pull it towards you

Thanks, sweetheart.

>Twilight blushes at this

>the things you say that can simply swoon a mare’s heart

 >you pump out a little disinfectant ointment on a finger, and begin rubbing it on her opening

>the wound, you sick fucks

>Pinkie: “Ow, Anon! That stuff stings!”

Deal with it.

>she gives you an angry pucker, and you can’t help but chuckle at that

-----

>soon the three of you are outside, Pinkie’s hoof wrapped up on gauze again

>you’re dressed up, in your overcoat and everything

>Pinkie: “D’awright, I’m going to see Mrs. Cake and say hello!”

Bring back a cake or something, if you could.

>she nods enthusiastically, and bounces off to her duties

>Twilight looks at you in confusion

>Twi: “Why would she be coming back…?”

>you lower yourself to put only her in earshot

Get rid of the guards, this is something only I can trust you with.

>standing back up, you poker face as she walks over to the guards, mumble a couple things between the two of them, and they angrily huff off

>Twi: “I hope you have a good reason for that… I have five minutes.”

I only need thirty seconds. I’ve been lying to you while I was in front of Pinkie: she was in fact the one who tried to kill me, and I’ve taken her hostage until I can find where she’s keeping everything.