Pinkie Pie was always the crazy one. She just—made me uncomfortable. Her crazy antics, her creepy memory—It was too much!

I didn’t even notice it at first. But, ever since the pie-eating (or [i]not[/i] eating) fiasco, I’ve grown wary of her. Her obsession with ponies—her obsession with [i]me![/i]—was more than I could bear. 

I said I’d give her pies a second chance. I asked if she could swing by Twilight’s castle and we’d make amends on a particular night. I smiled when she agreed.

Bathed in darkness and clothed in black, I sat on the atrium balcony. I heard the door open; I heard Pinkie bounce in; I heard the door close behind her.

“Dashie? Where are you? You said you’d be here.”

I vaulted over the railing and landed hard on her back. The pie on her head fell onto the ground. My forehooves flew to the back of her head. With the force of a hammer, I sank her face into the pie. Deep, deep into the pie.

What surprised me was how quiet the whole thing was. No screaming. No crying. Hardly a grunt.

After a minute or two, she became motionless. I held her down for thirty more seconds, more firmly, in fact, than I had before.

I gently put a forehoof on her neck and loosely wrapped a wing around her barrel. When I felt no pulse or breath, I bit down on her forehoof and began dragging her. Not ten steps later, the pie pan fell from her face, clattering onto the ground and spinning on its rim. I stomped on it, stopping it from making any more noise.

I don’t think I breathed the entire time I waited, as if my total silence might somehow make up for the noise I’d made. When I finally exhaled, I heard wings flapping above me.

I darted away and clung to the wall. Who? Who was there?

“Who?” a voice repeated, and immediately I knew it was Twilight’s owl.

“Just Twilight’s bird,” I said, as I walked back towards Pinkie.

As I began dragging her again, Owlicious swooped down and landed on her. Then, asked the owl, “Who?”

I turned my head and flattened my ears. I could not answer that owl.

Behind me, wings fluttered, and the owl was in front of me a moment later. Demanded the owl, “Who!”

I scowled and halted where I stood, then spat Pinkie’s hoof out of my mouth. “What do you want, stupid bird!”

Repeated the owl, “Who!” and landed a few steps ahead of me. I barely had to lower my head to meet his eyes.

I spread my wings and took a step forward—which is actually a lot less threatening on a staircase. “Just stay out of my way!”

Relented the owl. “Who.” He took off and flew along behind me as I dragged Pinkie up the stairs.

I dragged her all the way to the top, then dragged her even more. Past Twilight’s room—she was asleep. Past Starlight’s room—she was away. Into the throne room with the big crystal table.

With a grunt and a shove, I upturned the table and rolled it away. My hiding place revealed itself—a hole in the floor beneath the table. There I laid Pinkie Pie, her face still covered with the remains of her pie.

“And nopony will be the wiser,” I said aloud.

From the top of my throne, asked the owl, “Who?”

[i]“Nopony!”[/i]

The owl’s gaze dropped. Repeated he, “Who?” I followed his eyes and beheld a cutie mark engraved on the throne.

I stepped forward unawares, as if under a spell. The cutie mark was mine! Yes!—I would know!

“But—nopony else will know,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “You can’t tell them.”

Asked the owl, “Who?”

“[i]Anypony![/i] Nopony can know.” I feared on my life that the bird would tell. One way or another, I feared he would tell. “Not a word, not a gesture, or you’ll end up like her.”

The owl closed his eyes and seemed content. Hooted the owl, “Whooo.”

“Then that’s settled.”

Answered the owl, “Who.”

With a nod and a smirk, I pushed the table back into place.