Chapter 2: Delirium Trigger

        The students took their seats as the second bell rang, signaling the beginning of homeroom. Twilight had to guide a completely lost Pinkie Pie to her seat, only to then realize that Pinkie had completely neglected to bring her textbooks with her. “Pinkie, seriously, I don't know what's gotten into you today. I mean sure, you're usually hyper and you don't make much sense on a regular basis, but this is beyond that. Maybe you should just go back to the dorms and rest.” She moved Pinkie's bangs out of the way and placed her hand upon the pink-haired girl's forehead. “Well, you don't have a fever. Maybe it was just a bad dream.”

        “Why?” Pinkie muttered.


        “Why won't you believe me?! You know I wouldn't lie to you guys!” Pinkie yelled, tears welling up in her eyes as she stared at Twilight with a pleading look upon her face. “This is weird. We don't belong here.”

        At this point, the entire class was looking in Pinkie's direction, thanks to her outburst. A few people were murmuring rude things like, “Wow, guess ol' crazy finally snapped,” which was only making Pinkie cry even more. Twilight was about to offer soothing words, but the classroom door opened and in walked their homeroom teacher.

        “Ms. Sparkle, you of all people should know better than to be out of your seat,” the teacher said with a stern, yet anger-free voice.

        “I'm sorry, Ms. Cherri,” Twilight responded, heading back to her seat while giving Pinkie a concerned look.

        At the front of the class, Ms. Cherri started to take attendance. She was a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties—she would never divulge her true age—with purplish hair that hung to the middle of her back. Overall she was a nice person, accept she refused to use nicknames, which resulted in her calling out “Diane,” when she reached Pinkie's name. When Pinkie didn't reply, Ms. Cherri called out her name again. Fluttershy, who sat in front of Pinkie Pie, turned around and said, “Pinkie...she's calling your name.”

        Pinkie Pie looked up and said, “Diane's my middle name, please don't call me by that. Just call me Pinkie.”

        If there was a prize for most confused look, Ms. Cherri would have won it. The befuddled woman looked at her roll call sheet and back at Pinkie several times before saying, “Your name is listed as Diane, just like it's always been.”

        “Oh,” was all Pinkie could manage before she completely broke down into a crying fit. Again, Mr. Cherri stared on with a look that was begging for someone to clue her in. At this point, the rest of the class had begun staring at Pinkie like she was some kind of sideshow act.

        “Uh, don't worry Ms. Cherri, it's just uh, “girl stuff”, if ya know what I mean,” Applejack quickly offered, hoping to diffuse the situation before an even bigger deal was made.

        “What exactly do you mean by “girl stuff”?” Ms. Cherri replied, a note of agitation creeping into her voice.

        “You know Ms. Cherri, GIRL stuff, like REAL girl stuff,” Applejack said, while trying to nod her head towards her lap as discreetly as possible. Ms. Cherri stared at her for a few seconds, completely lost, before it finally dawned on her.

        “OH! That kind of girl stuff. Well, yes, I suppose that can play games with one's emotions. Alright class, eyes forward. I'm going to continue taking role now.”

        The rest of the class hesitantly turned around to face the front of the class as their homeroom teacher finished her daily ritual. After she was finished, she went through a list of general announcements, as well as club-specific announcements, which a good majority of the class ignored. After all, general announcements were usually posted on the central billboard, and any club announcements were typically known by the club members well before the homeroom teachers ever got around to announcing them. Upon finishing this final part of her daily routine, Ms. Cherri slid all of her papers back into her roll book and lifted it from the podium at the front of the classroom. “Alright everyone, your first class will begin in five minutes,” she announced before exiting the room. At Perryville Academy, the teachers came to the students, as opposed to the students coming to the teachers. For the first half of the day, students stayed in one general class for general lessons, such as Math, English, History, etc., before breaking off into their specialized fields of study for the second half of the day.

        With their homeroom teacher gone, the class began to erupt in a torrent of talking, most of it about Pinkie Pie. One of the boys in class turned around and shouted, “Hey Freakie, what happened? Did your last screw finally come loose?”, which garnered a wave of laughter from the students sitting around him. Rainbow Dash, who had been sitting quietly at the front of the classroom up until this point, finally lost her reserve and stood up, approaching the boy before he could blink and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

        “Pinkie Pie might not be the most normal person, but she's still my friend. I think it's time for you to apologize to her, before I make you!” she shouted, pulling her fist back to emphasize her point.

        “So the dyke sticks up for the freak, it figures. Hey, maybe the two of them are lovers!” The boy laughed in Rainbow Dash's face as he said this, almost as if he was daring her to hit her.

        “We've been through this before: I'm not gay! You know what, just eat my fist you son of a bi-” Rainbow Dash stopped mid-curse as she felt someone grab hold of her fist. She turned her head slowly, fully expecting to see their first period teacher standing their. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Rarity standing behind her instead.

        “I swear Rainbow Dash, you really need to work on that temper. Violence doesn't solve anything, especially when you're dealing with mangy mongrels like him.” She approached the boy Rainbow Dash had been preparing to hit and looked him up and down. “Chivalry really must be dead these days if a supposed gentleman of this esteemed academy would go so far as to insult a lady. Don't even get me started on your intelligence. If you truly think a person's sexual orientation can be determined by the color of their hair or their appearance in general, then I fear the day that you procreate.”

        The boy stared incredulously at Rarity. “You think you're so special because your family owns a fashion company, don't you? You know what, you're just a spoiled, stuck up-” If he finished his sentence, Rarity couldn't hear it over the outcry of the other boys in the classroom.

        “Hey, you don't speak to Ms. Rarity like that!”

        “Rarity is a true beauty! How dare you disrespect her!”

        “You and me, the courtyard at lunch time. I'll show you what happens to people who talk like that to Rarity!”

        Clearly defeated, the boy dropped back into his seat, his eyes fixated on his desk. Rarity shot him one last contemptuous look before grabbing Rainbow Dash's wrist and dragging her over to Pinkie Pie's desk. “Look, Pinkie, I don't know what's going on today, or why you're so out of it, but we're still your friends,” Rarity said, draping her arm around her friend's shoulder. She shot Rainbow Dash a “say something” look.

        “Oh, uh, yeah, it's cool Pinkie. I mean, we all have days where we're feeling, uh, off?” she finished her statement as a question, earning a disapproving glare from Rarity. Not wanting to earn her friend's ire, Rainbow Dash quickly stumbled for something else to say. “Look, Pinkie, I'm not good at being inspirational and all that, but if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. You can count on me to have your back.”

        Pinkie looked up at both of them with red, swollen eyes. “Why won't you guys believe me?” she asked bluntly.

        “Look, Pinkie, how are we supposed to believe you when you're claiming that we're-” Rarity leaned in and dropped her voice to barely a whisper, “-ponies? That just makes no sense.”

        It looked as though Pinkie wanted to protest, but before she could get the words out Rarity and Rainbow Dash began rushing back to their seats as their first period teacher walked through the door. Dismayed, and with no books or a clue as to what was going on, Pinkie just sat their, staring absentmindedly as the bulky male teacher began silently scribbling mathematical equations on the blackboard. She snapped out of her daze when the student to her left tapped her on the shoulder. Pinkie turned her head to see the student holding out a stack of notebook paper and a pencil. On the top sheet of paper, a small note had been scribbled: You should at least make sure to take notes. -Twilight 

        Pinkie looked to the other side of the room to see Twilight staring back. She smiled and gave Pinkie a thumbs-up before going back to writing down the aforementioned equations. From that point on, the morning went by normally. It even seemed like everyone had forgotten about Pinkie Pie's outburst earlier in the day. Yes, everything did seem perfectly normal—at least until lunch time.

        Twilight returned to the classroom after a quick visit to the cafeteria. In her hand she held a container with a chicken sandwich and french fries. Students at Perryville Academy were allowed to eat lunch in their classrooms or in the cafeteria, as long as they were at their specialized classes on time after the lunch period ended. As she entered the classroom, she paused for a moment to locate her friends, who had grouped their desks together near the classroom's windows. She made her way over to the group, setting her food down on her desk before taking her seat. After a quick look at the group, she asked, “Does anyone know where Pinkie went?”

        Fluttershy looked up from her salad and softly responded, “She stepped out right after you; I think she was headed for the cafeteria.”

        “That's odd, I didn't see her down there,” Twilight replied, in between bites of her sandwich.

        Rarity looked over at Twilight, clearly concerned. “Is it really okay to leave her alone after this morning?”

        “Yeah, she's fine; it's probably just an elaborate prank,” Rainbow Dash interjected with a laugh.

        “I dunno,” Applejack replied. “This is too stressful for a Pinkie Pie prank. She's always done pranks that everyone could laugh at in the past. I don't see why she would change now.”

        Everyone fell silent after that, their minds heavy with concern. Twilight placed her half-eaten sandwich back in its styrofoam container and closed it up; the situation had robbed her of her appetite. She gazed out of the window next to her, wondering what she could do for Pinkie, when she noticed their missing friend wandering into the courtyard. “Hey guys! I found Pinkie!”

        Before Twilight could even react, the rest of the girls had gathered around her and were looking into the courtyard to confirm Twilight's claim. Pinkie Pie was indeed walking around in the courtyard. Everyone began to breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief until they noticed the pink-haired girl sit down in the middle of the grass and pluck a handful of clover. “What in tarnation--” Applejack began, until she observed Pinkie bite the tops of the clover off. A group-wide groan followed as they watched her chew for a few seconds before spitting out the chewed bits of plant. She wiped her tongue with the back of her hand a few times before standing up and running off.

        “Okay, that was definitely not normal Pinkie Pie behavior,” Twilight observed, turning back to look at the rest of her friends. Everyone else nodded their agreement as they returned to their seats and their lunches—although none of them appeared to be too eager to start eating again. The usually chatty group was now completely silent as they all contemplated over Pinkie Pie. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Applejack broke the silence.

        “Look, someone's gotta talk to that girl or nothin' is gonna get better,” she stated, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. “I'm gonna bring her over to my place after school today. Maybe she'll feel more comfortable without everyone crowding around her. How's that sound?”

        The rest of the girls exchanged glances with each other, as if to say, “Are there any other ideas?” When no one spoke up, Applejack let her voice be heard again. “Alright then, it's settled. Mack'll be pickin' me up right after, so she can hitch a ride with us.”

        Everyone else simply nodded their heads, silently admitting that they really couldn't think of any better ideas. With nothing better to do, they all went back to eating their food, although at this point it was more a result of not wanting to waste food as opposed to genuine hunger.

        Pinkie Pie returned to the classroom shortly before the lunch period ended, taking her seat near the door and not so much as glancing over at the others. They watched her intently as she sat in the seat, looking down at her lap and not moving at all. A few moments before the end-of-lunch bell rang, Twilight finally stood up and approached her. “Hey Pinkie, are you ready for your specialty classes this afternoon?” she asked, trying to ease the tension that was clearly in the air.

        “Specialty classes?” Pinkie replied, a distant tone in her voice, as if her mind was somewhere else.

        “Yeah, you know, your event planning classes.”

        “I guess.”

        Twilight was frantically trying to think of ways to keep the conversation alive. Pinkie usually loved talking, yet now she wasn't even offering up full sentence replies. To make matters worse, she didn't even seem the slightest bit enthused about her specialty classes. On any given day, she would normally be bouncing around the room in excitement, waiting for the afternoon bell to finally ring. Whatever was wrong with her, it was serious. “You remember how to get there, right?” was all she could finally offer up to try and salvage the conversation, which was in critical condition at this point.

        “Not really.”

        “Oh...well, you hang a right as you exit the classroom, then you make a left at the end of the hall and follow that path past the next two hallways. At the third you want to make a right, and the room is the third on your right,” Twilight explained, trying to stifle the disbelief that she had to give Pinkie directions to a room she walked to five days out of the week.

        “Thanks,” was all Pinkie replied. The conversation had clearly flat-lined. The afternoon bell rang and Pinkie rose from her seat in an almost robotic motion. She left the room, turned left as instructed, and disappeared from sight.


        The end of day bell rang, and a tidal wave of students poured from the school's classrooms. Students quickly collected their items from their lockers before dashing for the exit, anxious for that feeling of freedom that always comes from leaving school. Applejack fought her way through the crowd, squeezing out of the front door and running down the stairs to avoid being trampled by the herd of people. She stepped to the side of the staircase and sat her backpack down as she watched the doors intently, waiting for Pinkie Pie to emerge. After about ten minutes, the pink-haired girl emerged, her eyes pointed at the ground. She was moving unbelievably slow; she looked as though her spirit had been crushed, turned to dust, and then scattered to the wind. “Hey, Pinkie, come with me!” Applejack called, mustering up as much cheerfulness as she could. Her friend didn't reply until she reached the bottom of the steps.

        “Okay, I guess. What do I have to lose at this point?”

        The smile on Applejack's face wavered for a second, but she quickly caught herself. Gotta remain cheerful!” she thought as she wrapped her arm around Pinkie's and lead her to a beat-up old pickup truck on the far edge of the school's driveway. Inside the truck sat a tall, muscular man. His skin was dark, tanned by days spent working in the sun, and his hair had clearly been bleached by the sun. He wore a white t-shirt under blue overalls. When Applejack reached the truck, she threw open the door and hollered, “Hey Mack, I'm bringin' a friend with me. That okay?”

        Mack looked over at Applejack and Pinkie Pie, hesitated, and then simply replied, “Yep.”

        Pinkie Pie stood outside of the truck, a slow smile spreading across her face. The other two individuals didn't seem to notice, until she shouted, “Mack? As in Big Macintosh? Oh thank goodness! Please talk some sense into this silly filly! She doesn't remember our life in Ponyville at all!”

        Applejack stared at Pinkie Pie in disbelief, before slowly covering her face with her palm and shaking her head. Mack narrowed his eyes and replied, “Big Macintosh? Lil' lady, I am not an apple, nor am I a product of Steve Jobs. As for this “Ponyville”, ain't ever heard of it. Now if ya'll are done playin' games, we got apples to harvest at home.”

        As the weight of Mack's words set in, Pinkie's face began to slowly drop. She watched as Applejack climbed into the truck and slid into the middle of the bench seat before climbing in herself. Applejack reached across and pulled the door shut. “I gotta say, that was a bit impressive Pinkie. I don't think I've heard Mack talk that much in over a year,” the blonde commented, trying to inspire some kind of reaction. Her attempts failed, though, and she decided to just leave Pinkie in peace for the remainder of the ride.

        It was approximately a half-an-hour trip from the school to Apple Acres, the apple orchard that Applejack's family had owned and operated for over a century. The orchard was situated on the outskirts of Perryville, away from the hustle and bustle of the small town. Mack turned off of the paved road and headed down a dusty old dirt road lined with apple trees on either side. The trees were all ripe with fruit, and from her window seat Pinkie could see people hard at work harvesting the apples throughout the orchard. They emerged from the tree-lined path into a wide dirt parking lot. Straight ahead was a large farmhouse that could only be described as a small mansion. To their left and back was a large red barn. Mack swung the truck toward the barn and parked it inside. Without a word to the two girls, he opened the driver's side door and exited the vehicle. “D-did I make him mad?” Pinkie stammered out, watching the retreating man through the back window.

        “Naw, Mack just ain't big on talkin'. You should know tha-well, never mind,” Applejack said in response, motioning for Pinkie to open the door so that they could both get out. After a moment of fumbling with the door handle, Pinkie finally managed to figure out how it worked. The two girls exited the barn through the same path that brought them in and headed towards the main house. As they approached the front of the house, Pinkie noticed an old lady sitting in a rocking chair. Her hands seemed to defy her age as they worked in fast, intricate motions to crochet the blanket that she was making.

        “Granny!” Applejack leaned down to hug the old woman. “You remember my friend Pinkie, right?”

        The old lady adjusted her glasses and squinted at Pinkie, leaning forward to get a better look. “Oh, yes! I remember you! You threw me that 83rd birthday party! One of these days you must tell me where you found those fine gentlemen.” The excitement in her voice suggested that the party had been one to remember; unfortunately, Pinkie had no recollection of the event. Instead, she just smiled and nodded.

        “It really is great to see you again Granny....Smith?” Pinkie offered in return, ending the sentence hesitantly, hoping that she was right.

        “Yes dearie, that's right. Granny Smith, that's what they call me! 'Course, Smith wasn't always my last name. I took the name from my second husband. He was a soldier, you know. Fought in that war back in the sixties and got his left arm blown clear off. Before that I was married to Mr. Jackson. He passed away from a terrible apple harvesting accident some twenty years ago I'm afraid. Oh, but he was strong--” the old lady kept babbling on about her deceased first husband, which caused Applejack to chuckle, especially because Pinkie seemed to be holding onto her every word. Without saying anything, AJ slipped into the house to change.

        Ten minutes later, Appljeack emerged from the house, dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt. It wasn't the most flattering outfit, but it was just right for picking apples. To her surprise, Granny Smith was still babbling on about her past loves, and to her greater surprise Pinkie Pie was still listening. In fact, Pinkie had taken a seat on the porch railing, completely fixated on the old woman's words. With a chuckle, Applejack tapped her friend on the shoulder and said, “Pinkie, if ya don't mind I could really use your help with these apples.”

        Pinkie looked over with a pout, whined, and then finally replied, “Okay.” She turned back to Granny Smith and said, “I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but Applejack needs my help.”

        “Oh it's no problem dearie! I know how these things are. I'll tell you about my third boyfriend Alfred next time you come! The things that man used to do will have you in stitches!” Granny Smith exclaimed, enthusiastically patting Pinkie Pie on the arm.

        Pinkie proceeded to follow Applejack down the front stairs, across the dirt lot in front of the house, and into the apple orchard. The trees were arranged in neat, organized rows, with plenty of space for the workers to walk in between. More importantly, though, was that they allowed enough space for the tractors to fit through—after all, this was how the apples were ultimately collected from the individual workers.

        The two girls proceeded passed at least two dozen trees whose apples had already been harvested. Pinkie surmised that this was Applejack's designated harvesting area, a fact that she confirmed when they reached their thirtieth tree. Under the tree sat several stacks of wicker baskets—which Applejack quickly grabbed two of—and a ladder. “Alrighty, this is where we start,” she said, tossing one of the baskets to Pinkie. She then proceeded to open up the ladder, pressing it into the soft soil to steady it as much as possible. When she was satisfied, she hurried up to the top and called down, “I hope you're ready!” before quickly picking apples and dropping them down.

        Pinkie barely had time to react as the fruit rained down at her. At first she dodged the falling apples, allowing them to land in the grass, before she remembered the basket in her hands. She strengthened her grasp on it and began positioning it under the red orbs, catching the good majority of them. Applejack's hands were moving like lightning, a skill that was undoubtedly developed from years of experience, and Pinkie was surprised that she could even keep up. Within moments the basket had become too heavy for her to hold, and she yelled for Applejack to stop.

        “Sorry sugar, I didn't mean to overwhelm you,” the southern girl apologized as she descended the ladder. She took note of the number of apples on the ground compared to the number in Pinkie's basket and nodded with approval. “You definitely did better'n most of the guys that usually helped me out. I'm impressed. Then again, it's not like this is your first time either.” She patted Pinkie on the back, taking the basket from her and setting it down. “Okay, now it's your turn to pick!”

        Without a word of protest Pinkie climbed up the ladder and started to reach for one of the remaining apples. As she touched it, a wave of memories began to roll over her. She saw herself harvesting apples at the farm before—not during Apple Bucking season, for she had plenty of those memories—but of this world, where she had hands and feet, and where large pieces of equipment came to gather the hard-picked apples. The problem was, they didn't feel like her memories. She was undoubtedly the one picking the apples, but it felt like she was watching them from afar. Her whole body began to tremble as the vivid images washed over her. A faint voice was calling her, but she could barely hear it until Applejack began shaking her. “Pinkie! Hey, are you okay? You need to watch your step or you're gonna hurt yourself!”

        Blinking, Pinkie looked at her surroundings. She was no longer at the top of the ladder, but at the bottom, her body at an odd angle. Applejack had her by the shoulders. “You're darn lucky I managed to catch you. Are you sure you're okay to be pickin' apples?” the blonde asked, her voice thick with concern.

        Pinkie shook her head. “No, no I don't think I am. I think I need to go home.”

        Applejack sighed, a mixture of concern and frustration playing through her emotions. “Well, if that's what you need then I'll see about getting Mack to take you.”

        Again Pinkie shook her head. “I'll just take the bus. I have my pass in my breast pocket. Wait, how do I know that? This is all too weird. I need to go!” Without another word she broke free of Applejack's grasp, running as fast as she could through the apple orchard. She could see the dirt path that brought her back to the farm, so she used it as a guide to get back to the main road. The bus stop was just a few feet from where she emerged. After only a few minutes of waiting, the 58 pulled up to let her on. Her feet pulled her on board, her hand methodically scanned her pass, and then she found herself sitting down in the third seat from the front. How she knew to do all this was lost to her. It was like the instructions were just flooding into her mind and her body was simply acting on them. She sat in the seat, clutching her head, trying to make sense of everything. Nothing made sense, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't figure out the situation. The bus trip went on for at least twenty minutes, until her stop came up. Again her body seemed to move on its own as she stood up and walked off the bus, sitting down on the bus stop bench. The number four would take her the rest of the way to the academy. “How do I know all of this?” she muttered to herself, fighting to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. If her friends were around she could let loose since they always stood by her, but out here she couldn't trust anybody. She had to get back to the academy.

        The wait felt like an eternity, but eventually the number four pulled up and she got on, repeating the steps from the previous bus. As the bus rolled on she fought to keep her nerves together, trying to get her mind to think rationally. Someone had to have an answer for her; someone had to know how to make sense out of all this, but who? She wracked her brain, trying to think as clearly as possibly, when it finally came to her. “Twilight,” she quietly exclaimed. But where would she find Twilight? That was the problem. Again she wracked her brain until the answer came to her. “The library! Wait, that one actually makes sense!” Her mind seemed to settle a bit now that she had a plan of action in mind, although the flood of memories was making no notion of stopping anytime soon. Every so often the bus would pass a building that would spark another memory.

        They passed Cranston Bakeshop, where she had purchased the birthday cake for Twilight's fifteenth birthday party. A few blocks beyond that was Jungle Jamboree, an after school day care for children in the town's public school system. Pinkie recalled memories of occasionally helping out there during her free time. The closer the bus came to the school, the more often these sorts of memories occurred. She tried to push the memories out of her mind, but the flood was too great. Several failed attempts caused her to finally give up and just observe the memories, hoping that something would make sense in the jumble of scenes. Unfortunately she could claim no such luck. The bus rolled up to the gates of Perryville Academy, and Pinkie Pie exited the vehicle, more mentally disheveled than she had been all day. “Twilight will have the answer,” she told herself again, setting her sights on the campus' west wing, where the library resided. This was one unexplainable memory that she was finally happy to have. Her fast walk turned into a full on run as the library came into sight. She burst through the library doors, drawing angry glances from the librarians. With an apologetic wave she hurried through the building to the back, up the stairs to the second floor, and through the lone door.

        Twilight was seated at her desk, a large tome open before her. She had already completed her coursework for the night and was now reading about physics just for fun. Her head snapped around as she heard her door swing open. She fully expected to see one of the school's librarians standing in the doorway with a stack of books that needed to be filed, so she was caught off guard when she instead found Pinkie Pie. Her mind fumbled for something to say, before settling on, “Hey Pinkie. I thought you were going to pick apples with AJ.”

        Pinkie closed the door behind her, locking the deadbolt to ensure that no one would disturb them. This action caused Twilight to shift uncomfortably in her seat. After making a round of the room to make sure they were alone, Pinkie finally spoke. “I was with her, but I started having all of these...memories pop into my head. I'm in them, but I don't feel like I'm actually the one in them. I know things that I shouldn't know: the bus routes, the history of this town, stories of places we visited, how to get to your room. Twilight, what's going on here?”

        If Twilight wasn't completely unnerved before, she was now. It almost seemed like Pinkie was having an complete mental breakdown, and she did not know what to do to help her friend. What she did know was that she had to approach the situation cautiously; after all, if Pinkie Pie was truly unstable, then saying or doing the wrong thing could potentially set her off. After a few moments of silence, she slowly began to speak. “You mentioned something about us being ponies this morning, right?”

        “Yeah,” was all Pinkie offered as a reply.

        “Okay, and I assume you have memories of being a 'pony'? People, places, that sort of thing?”


        “Alright. So those memories seem completely natural to you, but the memories from this world—from reality—seem completely foreign?”

        “Yes, Twilight, that's basically what I said,” Pinkie snapped back.

        Twilight sighed and rose from her desk, approaching her small personal bookshelf. She pulled out a large book labeled, “The Young Psychologist” and flipped it open to the index. She scanned through until she found what she was looking for, then opened the book to the desired section. “Pinkie, it's possible that you're experiencing the onset of dissociative identity disorder. I'm obviously not a psychologist, but it seems like this 'pony' version of you has a pretty distinct personality. Then again, you're claiming to be from a completely different world altogether, so maybe it's something else. I really think you should see a professional.”

        Pinkie collapsed to the floor, covering her face with her hands. “I'm not mentally insane, Twilight. Why won't you or anyone else believe me? We're from Ponyville, we're ponies! We're not supposed to look like this. The only thing that hasn't changed is our hair.” She sobbed loudly now that her last hope was gone. She had been certain that Twilight could explain everything, but that was clearly not the case. There was no doubt in her mind now—she was alone in this world. Unless...

        “Hey Twilight, where's Spike?”

        “Um, Spike?” Twilight responded, clearly confused.

        “Yeah, Spike, you know, little purple dragon? Green spines?”

        “Pinkie, dragons don't exist, and I've never met anyone named Spike. I really think you should go back to your room and lay down. Maybe you'll feel better in the morning, and if you don't, I would seriously recommend seeking professional help,” Twilight said, an air of finality to her voice.

        Completely dejected, Pinkie Pie picked herself up off of Twilight's floor and walked over to the bedroom door, unlocking it and swinging it open. “I see. I'm sorry to have troubled you.” She made her way out of the library and to the east side of the school grounds, where the student dormitories resided. Into the “Chesterwood” dormitory building she went, where she proceeded to the third floor, room 305. Somehow she knew that the key to the door was in her right skirt pocket, attached to a balloon keychain. She no longer cared how she knew this; her friends didn't believe in her, so why did it even matter at this point. Without turning on the light or undressing she threw herself onto the bed and surrendered to the sweet embrace of sleep.