fandomtownies | The streets of Fandom, Saturday afternoon

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The streets of Fandom, Saturday afternoon

It'd taken some work, but Pinkamena finally felt like she had the apartment ready for her first cupcake making session. Now she was out on a shopping trip, looking for the very best ingredients.

These were going to be her greatest cupcakes yet, she was sure of it. She just had to find just the right person to help her make them.

She paused mid-trot when she noticed a rat hanging out in the corner of an alley. "WHAT'RE YOU LOOKING AT?"

The rat let out a terrified squeak and ran off, and Pinkamena resumed her trot. "Lalalala. . . ."

[ooc: Open to anyone willing to risk the wrath/attention of Pinkamena Diane Pie, the excessively dark version of Pinkie from the fanfic "Cupcakes".]

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Still no trouble, here on the streets. Angel had poked at maybe dozens of fire hydrants and rickshaws and things, and they still hadn't done anything. And there wasn't a single Troublebot to be seen.

Angel was beginning to suspect that maybe he wasn't in Superhero City any more.

But he'd poke just one more garbage can here in the dark alleyway anyhow, just to be sure.

"You must get pretty bored down here on the ground, too."

Poor, poor garbage can.

[I couldn't resist. Weetiny winged guy with a healing factor, go!]

[mwahahahahahahaha!]

Pinkamena went to go see where the voice was coming from. She wouldn't get a whole lot of cupcakes out of a guy that size, but what the hey, she wasn't choosy right now.

"Well hi there!" she said, aiming for bright and sunny and just barely missing. "How'd you like to help me make some cupcakes?"

Angel glanced up from the garbage can. It wasn't terribly thrilling anyhow.

Being a garbage can, and all.

"Cupcakes?" He blinked. Once. Twice. "What sort of cupcakes?"

He could make pit stops for Aunt May's pie (it tasted just like clear skies) and pizza on Yancy Street. Trouble would probably hold off for a little while for the sake of cupcakes!

"Oh, the best cupcakes in all of Equestria! Everypony loves them! Why, I even have to have a whole lottery just to choose who gets to help me make them, and your number's come up! Whaddaya say?"

Yeah, she totally wasn't overselling this or anything.

Oooh! Angel had never won a lottery before! He'd just always been rich and good looking! So this was pretty exciting! He didn't even have to spin a prize wheel or anything!

"I couldn't possibly say no to a citizen in need of assistance!"

... She was a citizen, right? Angel wasn't entirely sure.

Well, she didn't pay taxes.

Pinkamena reached back to pull the busted chair leg out of her saddlebags. "Okay!" she said, voice muffled by the leg in her teeth. "Just hold still. . . ."

She thwacked the chair leg at his head.

Angel had also never had a citizen try to conk him out with a table leg before. Today was a day that was completely full of firsts!

As it happened, he did stagger back a bit, swaying in place and somewhat stunned. He had plenty of ~~hit points~~ life in him yet, but it was still going to take him a moment to regain his composure.

... It was possible that Angel had flown head-first into a few buildings before and he had an extra thick skull as a result.

"... What kind of cupcakes did you... you say... these were going to be, again?"

He was seeing birdies and he wasn't even in the air yet!

Son of a monkey!

Pinkamena smiled around the table leg. "The most special kind in the whole world!" she said.

And tried to hit him again.

Look, Angel just had to be certain about these things before he committed to anything!

"Oh, okay." He smiled a little. Swayed a little more.

And then went down like a sack of bricks.

This probably wouldn't last long. Squaddies - and most other Marvel characters, really - had unlimited lives.

Maybe she would get a decent sized batch of cupcakes out of him, then.

Pinkamena leaned down to take Angel's wing in her mouth and start dragging him back to her apartment.

She might need to rethink the order she did things in.

They would probably taste a lot like chicken, too.

Fortunately for Pinkie (and less fortunately for Angel), he was also pretty light, too. Hollow bones were good for that, at least, as was the fact that he was a bit on the little side.

She'd have to drag him quickly, though. That bump on his noggin wouldn't last long.

Alas, Pinkamena wasn't built for dragging winged humans. Back in Equestria, she usually used things like drugs and trap doors.

Next time, she thought, she was going to bring a cart.

And besides, being hauled along the ground was scuffing up Angel's tights.

It was probably somewhere around the end of the alleyway, therefore, that he started to come around again.

"Birdies," he reported. Just in case Pinkamena couldn't see them. "Flying around and around..."

They were more likely to be pigeons than vultures, at least.

"What? Where?" Pinkamena dropped his wing and hopped in place, looking for the birds. "HE'S MINE! YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!"

That was not the sort of thing that one tended to yell when making cupcakes, Pinkamena.

At least, not to his knowledge. Which, admittedly, wasn't particularly vast or anything.

"They're up there," Angel replied, pointing up as he swayed a little, spreading his wings out to get his balance. "I'd probably be able to point them out better if you'd stop hitting me on the head all the time, though."

Yes.

That was probably true, yes.

"I don't see any birdies," Pinkamena said grouchily. "Maybe we shouldn't make cupcakes. I don't want any . . . bad ingredients."

Oh, break his heart, Pinkamena. Break it good, would you?

"Are you afraid the birds are going to ruin them?"

You had him all set on cupcakes and everything!

"I could probably chase them off if you're really worried."

"I don't wanna make any crazy cupcakes," Pinkamena explained. Because, you know, she was the perfect judge of anyone's mental stability. "Guess your number didn't come up after all."

"Oh..." Angel was now the unhappiest he had ever been.

Ever. Really.

"Well, I hope you find somebody to help you with your cupcakes, then," he offered. "I'm sorry if I wasted your time."

So earnest. Now if only that ringing in his ears would clear up, he'd probably clue in, later rather than sooner, that there had been something kind of weird about that little pink civilian.

"Whatever," Pinkamena said grumpily. Then: "have a nice da-ay!"

And she turned to trot off, chair leg and all.

There was a pink talking horse in the street.

Maybe she was a mutant? Hank hadn't heard of the X-gene causing this sort of change, but anything was possible. So long as she wasn't a Skrull. Whatever she was, she was fascinating.

"Pardon me, miss? Do you mind if I collect a sample of your DNA?"

"That depends," Pinkamena said, sickeningly sweetly. "Do you like cupcakes?"

"Not really," Hank answered. "They're not very nutritious, and the high fat content makes me sleepy. I'm willing to try one, though, if you'll just rub this handkerchief on the inside of your cheek for me."

"Okay," Pinkamena agreed. "And you'll need to smack yourself in the head with this chair leg!"

"...Why would I do that? I'm not going to injure myself."

Drat. That sometimes worked on the dumber ponies back in Ponyville.

"Just checking!" Pinkamena sing-songed. "Okay, let's go back to my apartment and make some cupcakes!"

"I really don't have time for that," Hank told her. "There's science to do."

"Cupcakes are very scientific," Pinkamena said. "I'd tell you to ask my friend Twilight but, uh. She's . . . otherwise occupied."

Poor Twilight. Her number had taken awhile, but they all come up eventually.

"Look, it's really not too much trouble for you to swab your cheek for me, is it? I'll make cupcakes some other time. I'm just in the middle of a project, is all, and I'm eager to get back to it."

Pinkamena had to put her hoof down, here. "No cupcake making, no swabbing. Take it or leave it, buster!"

"I don't have time for this," Hank repeated, and he turned and walked away.

A few minutes later, a mosquito with a very tiny man riding on it flew near Pinkie and attempted to bite her.

"What is it with this town?" Pinkie wondered. And she turned to trot off again.

There was a bug bothering her. She swatted at it with her chair leg.

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The streets of Fandom, Saturday afternoon

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