gummy, whispering: Call the police”

The ten year anniversary of MLP:FiM is approaching. Will that be enough to bring this comic back from the dead?

Pls continue this it’s byotiful

@Background Pony #A749  
Bravo on giving this the proper closure it needs. Shame not many people here comments on it.

 
There was a long period of silence, before the young mare stood up herself, to walk around the gator and towards her. As she did, the life seemed to drain away from the objects at the table, soon leaving the room emptier than before, just the two mares remaining… and the pet reptile, gnawing uselessly on a cookie.
 
“… do I know you?” the pink pony replied, her eyes curious, searching.
 
“I-in a way.” North replied, a blush arising upon her cheeks. “I… I was one of the ponies at the Grand Galloping Gala… y-you… w-well…” She fidgeted, before changing track a little. “I… I want to apologize. Are you willing to hear me out?”
 
The mare tilted her head, ears perked. She was listening.
 
“… I can’t speak, for everyone who was at the Gala. But I understand, that all you were wanting to do, was just to liven up the place. I just… ignored what was going on. And then suddenly there you were, trying to get me to dance with you… in the most unusual way possible. After that… even when the Gala was done with… I couldn’t stop thinking of it… thinking of you.” Her blush intensified, but she forced herself to continue.
 
“That’s why I’m here. I just… I had to find you again. To talk to you, to get to know you. Actually know you. To tell you…” she looked about herself, at the strange little party table and its occupants. “… that you don’t have to feel bad about what happened. The fault was not with you. We just… didn’t understand. I didn’t understand… not until much later, after the fact.”
 
“So… I’m sorry, for everything that happened. I admit I don’t know the whole story… after that animal stampede, we all had to clear out rather quickly… but for you, I especially wanted to say… I’m sorry that I didn’t dance with you.” She looked up meekly at the earth pony. “I-I… I want to make your acquaintance… to become your friend. I know for certain, that the mare standing before me now, is a far cry from the one who tried to get me to ‘boogie’ with her… and I want to see her again…” Timidly, she opened up her forelegs. “… may I? I just… want to see you smile again…”
 
This seemed to hit a chord within the dark mare. She stared at her for the longest moment… before, very quietly, getting to her hooves, walking straight up to her, and suddenly enveloping her in a hug. The unicorn was startled, and yet she was quick to recover, wrapping her own hooves around the mare, and squeezing her tightly, feeling her warmth…
 
POOMTH
 
Her eyes opened at the sound. Looking down, she realized that the mare’s tail was no long limp. It had suddenly popped into curliness.
 
And then she lifted her head back to look at her again, and it was her. That unmistakable curly mane. That wide smile. Those shining blue eyes, overflowing now with gratitude. “Thank you.” she whispered. “I think.. that’s what I really needed.”
 
North found herself returning the smile. “Happy to help.” she replied. Even though she had been conversing with this mare for well over an hour now, she felt the need to re-introduce herself. “… my name is North Star. Please… what’s yours?”
 
“My birth name is Pinkemena Diane Pie. But to me and my closest friends and everypony else, my name is just Pinkie Pie.”
 
“Pinkie Pie…” She tasted the name upon her tongue. It was sweet, just like the aroma of cupcakes and icing that was now coming off her mane. She held her at hoof’s length, staring at this mare as if for the first time, taking all of her in. “… I-I’m sorry, you must think me incredibly weird. I-I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t remember me at all…”
 
Pinkie tilted her head again, and sprung to all four hooves looking her over. “You look familiar though. I mean, if you say I tried to dance with you, then I don’t doubt it, and doubting something’s never fun, without a doubt.” She trotted behind her, looking her dress over. “Oh wowie, your dress’s all beat up. What happened to your skirt? It looks like a bunch of ponies’ve rammed their heads into it.”
 
“W-well… I-I… um, um!”
 
The pink pony stared blankly at the unicorn’s stuttering, before a look of realization came over her face. It was right then, without any warning, that she then proceeded to butt her head into the dress, pushing and lifting North’s hindquarters off the ground.
 
“Ah, AH! It’s you! Oh goddess it IS you!”
 
“And now I remember!” Pinkiie exclaimed, letting her down and trotting up beside her. “You’re her! Wowie Zowie! To know it’s me just by the way I bump your butt?” Her grin widened just a little. “Was that the reason you wanted to come find me, Starry?”
 
“W-well, it’s not the only reason!” she protested, blushing madly, before looking up again. “Starry?”
 
“… W-well, is that okay?” Pinkie shyly tapped her hooves together. “I-I mean, you did say you wanted to become friends… if you’re rather I didn’t use that name though-”
 
She found herself smiling. “N-No, no. That’s perfectly fine… just been a long time since I was called that… ever since I graduated from school, actually…” she then looked up once more. “… is that okay? For us to be… w-well…”
 
The pink mare was remarkably different now from her somber self. A knowing look had settled over her face, but it then melted away into a softer, welcoming expression. “Of course, silly filly. I’d never turn down the chance to make a friend, no matter how creepy they think they’re being. And you’re not. Honest.” She suddenly wrapped her up into another hug. “That you came all the way from Canterlot to find me… That is sweet and amazing all wrapped together into a fried empanada with whipped cream and a cherry on top~”
 
North found herself speechless, and not just because she didn’t know exactly what an empanada was. She returned the hug, finding herself basking in the other mare’s warmth and radiant happiness. It occurred to her to say something else, but right as she opened her mouth, the party pony bolted upright. “Ohmygosh! You said earlier that you’d never been to Ponyville before, right?!”
 
“U-uhm, yes, that’s right.” she replied, dumbfounded.
 
“And here I was, feeling sorry for myself, making you all uncomfy, when I really shoulda been making you feel welcome!” Pinkie turned to look behind her, at the gator once again, whose crown had finally fallen off his head. “You know what this calls for, right Gummy?”
 
Gummy stuck his tongue out to lick away at a single unfocused eyeball.
 
“That’s right.” she replied, turning back, the biggest smile yet blossoming upon her face. “A PARTY!!”
 
And thus North Star laughed, and began her newfound relationship with the premiere party pony of Ponyville.

 
Once she got into the swing of things, it really was a very civil, and social little tea party. It would not have been the first time she had dined with total strangers, after all, and at this gathering there was the added layer of ridiculousness, that her fellow guests were all inanimate objects. At the very least, the cookies being served were quite delicious and filling, and she found herself eating the lion’s share without any major objections.
 
And still the shadowed mare was doing her best, serving tea, making conversation, and then taking on the role of the other’s voices, going back and forth. And yet there, she could see there was some inner turmoil.
 
Rocky was not fully mingling with the guests. He was headstrong, and a blowhard, and this was apparently offending the delicate sensibilities of the other three objects at the table. He was also constantly making attempts at getting the rest of them to sing a round of songs.
 
“Hay, c’mon now!” he was blustering even now. “Don’t tell me none of y’alls have never heard ‘The One-Eyed Susan Sally’ before!”
 
“Mister Rocky, please.” Sir Lintsalot countered, a breath of indignation upon his nonexistent lips. “We are trying to enjoy a quiet spot of tea. If we had wanted rabblerousing, we would have gone down to the bar on Mane, with the tacky wallpaper.”
 
“Dreadful trimmings, that lot.” Madame LeFluer agreed. She seemed to shiver in horror. “I still can’t get the sight of that horrid shade out of my mind.”
 
The alligator had his snout in a cup of tea. He raised his head, and then proceeded to go ‘quack’.
 
“T-that’s right, Lord Gummy!” the mare replied, apparently nervous. “They do have the best potato wedges in town, for all their other faults!”
 
“Hrm. Maybe.” Mr Turnip spoke, sniffing. “Still, it is a rather boorish establishment, in my opinion. What do you think, Madame?”
 
It took her a split second to realize that the bucket of vegetables was addressing her. “O-oh! Well, truth be told, I’m rather new to Ponyville itself. I’ve not been to this establishment you’re all speaking of, so I cannot give my opinions on the matter.”
 
“Fair enough.” Lintsalot replied. “In any case, this is a upscale occasion. We will not have the likes of brutish bar activity here in our calm, civilized soiree!”
 
North Star’s eyes furrowed, as she looked across the table at the limp-maned mare. She was sweating, and very nervous-looking. She obviously wanted all parties to get along here, but that was becoming increasingly unlikely. And yet, she was playing all the parts, both those sneering, and the one causing the upset…
 
Self-flagellation. She’s punishing herself.  
For what?  
For dare attempting to liven up the Gala.
 
She knew then. It was her. This was the mare that she had been seeking. The mare who had danced about the gala itself, full of brightness and cheer… and then, having attempted to get the rest of the partygoers themselves to share her enthusiasm. Attempting to get them to smile. Attempting to get them to dance.
 
Attempting, but having ultimately failed. That bright and smiling mare was now gone, replaced by this dark-colored pony, who was trying to teach herself a lesson for overstepping her bounds, her smile and her energy, gone away.
 
And whose fault is that?
 
She became dimly aware that the conversation had picked back up. “Youse guys are unbelievable.” Rocky was speaking again. “Y’ don’t dance, y’ don’t sing, y’ don’t tell knock-rock jokes. Ah feel like this is more a funeral than a party! What’s wrong with havin’ a little fun?!”
 
“Your idea of ‘fun’, good sir, does not measure up to the civilized classes of our good kingdom.” Mr Turnip replied. He seemed to rise in his seat. “To be quite honest, I have no idea why our Lord has invited you to join us this evening.”
 
“P-please, let’s not do this…” the limp-maned mare pleaded, looking about everyone at the table warily. The pile of rocks himself, actually seemed to be stooping down lower at being talked down to.
 
“I quite agree.” Sir Lintsalot joined in, leaning forward. “Your Graciousness, I must implore you, consider having this rowdy ruffian removed from our social gathering.”
 
“B-but,” Rocky was sputtering, beside himself. “I-I just wanted t’ make this party more fun!”
 
“Sir Rocky.” The flour bag turned to aim a withering stare at the stack of stones. “It has become entirely too clear to the rest of us, that you do not belong here. We will not condone your foalish tendencies any longer. It is quite about time that you either grow up and become a proper pony, or else leave our table, and never return.”
 
This was very quickly becoming ugly. The dark mare was fidgeting in place, seemingly wrestling with an internal decision. The crowned gator was surveying the scene with a dispassionate gaze. And all the other guests were ganging up on Rocky. North Star found herself becoming quite tense.
 
What this was, she now knew, was a landscape of the debate within the young mare’s mind. She had wanted to bring cheer and joy to the Gala, and that was expressed by Rocky. But at the same time, she had not fit in with the rest of the high-class clientele at the Gala, and had been repeatedly rebuffed by the partygoers there, despite her attempts, despite her best intentions. The other three objects represented this disapproval… and the entire tea party, was how she was working on coming to terms with this internal debate.
 
She then realized, there was also her, herself. A wild card in the bunch, that had come in, just because the mare hadn’t wanted to be alone…
 
… and then, the answer became crystal clear to her.
 
“With all due respect, Madame LeFleur,” the unicorn spoke up. “I must quite disagree with your sentiment.”
 
The scene froze. The greyed-out mare looked up at her, with wide eyes. Off to the side, the bag of flour had turned to look at her. “… how do you mean, Madame Star?”
 
“What I mean is,” She found herself standing up from her seat, forehooves upon the table. “that I have seen street pigeons acting more civilized that you three are being right this very moment.”
 
Mr Turnip’s bucket hopped in place. “You dare, madame?! We are all highly respected and prolific members in our individual communities!”
 
“So am I.” she countered, taking to her hooves and walking alongside the table. “But even I can recognize that, for all our class, ponies like us can be so remarkably short-sighted. And I am more than willing to admit that I was wrong.”
 
She stopped beside Rocky, and laid a hoof upon his shoulder. Or what she assumed was his shoulder. “Rocky here, it is obvious to me, is an honest, hard-working stack of compacted soil. He and his kind have been the founding of many a grand structure, not to mention having paved the way for many, many ponies in our time. Without him, and other stones who have borne the weight of our great nation, where would we be now? Does he not deserve the respect that is his right?”
 
The three objects stared at her, the mare’s face a wide-open look of amazement. Rocky squirmed slightly beneath her touch. “A-aww gee, Miss…”
 
“I’m only speaking the truth.” she replied to him, before looking to the others again. “If Rocky was to leave this table, it would not be because of you deciding he was not fit, but because it is you who does not deserve one such as him. There are many other objects, and ponies, well deserving of his friendship. Friends who understand him for what he is, willing to accept his eccentricities. What he doesn’t need, are self-important nobles who turn their nose up at his honest attempts at spreading joy. Who bristle at the very suggestion that they sing a song of camaraderie…”
 
North Star then leveled a gaze directly at the limp-maned mare herself. “… ponies who simply stand by when someone just wants to dance the Pokey Pony with them…”
 

“Oh he doesn’t bite, like I do. Please, sit.”
 
More and more, North Star was wondering what it was that she’d just gotten herself into. This dark, brooding pony that she had come across, her voice so similar… and yet, so different. Was this really, truly, the same pony from the grand galloping Gala?
 
North Star was a socialite. A learned pony, a part of the Ministry of Astrological Affairs, who handled things like the far-reaching cataloging of stars and their formations, and of distilling from them, the moods of the Princesses that manipulated them.
 
Technically, she had nothing to do with the ‘common riff raff’ that inhabited the lower levels of Canterlot, or even the surrounding townships across the countryside. But it was because of a chance encounter with one of these common ponies… a pony with an indefatigable brightness… that she had brought herself out here, in search of this one, single mare.. the mare who touched her flank. And through it, for some mysterious reason… her heart.
 
This dark shadow of a pony, with a mane that was limp and lifeless, who oozed barely-withheld despair… She wasn’t sure how she knew… but it had to be them. There was only one way to be certain however. And that was to join into this party of one.
 
Or two, if you counted the alligator with the crown. And maybe more, if you counted the piles of objects on stools, wearing odd bits of golden finery themselves.
 
She was reminded of the toy tea parties she used to hold with her stuffed dolls way back in her foalhood. This had the flavor of some of that, even though for some reason, a shade had been thrown over the entire affair. Nonetheless, she did as instructed, taking a seat at the end of the table. The dark mare herself went to the head of the table, seating herself beside the reptile.
 
There was a beat of silence, as the mare seemed to draw herself in. Then, she proceeded to speak, with an edge of seriousness more befitting a council lord. “Today, marks the first tea social of the lords of the inner cabinet, refrigerator, and pantry. I humbly introduce myself as the interpreter for our Lord Majesty Sir Gummisworth Gargatorgoyle the Thirteenth, due to his age and having not yet grown his first tooth. May we please attend to roll call? From the left of the table please.”
 
She suddenly zipped under the table. The pile of lint began to jiggle as its stool was moved back and forth, a gallant voice echoing from it. “I am Sir Lintsalot, Royal Knight of the Dust Kingdom, leader of the last bastion of UnderTheSofa, and spreader of loyalty and good dust everywhere. Also, a mean dust bunny herder in my off-hours.”
 
The bucket full of turnips began to jostle about next. “I am Sir Turnip, of the Ministry of the Refrigerator. My duties include turnips, turnip greens, turnip slaw, turnip casserole, french fried turnips, and turnips for things which I have to declare I have no idea what you are even insinuating about Madame. Please mind my stems.”
 
The mare suddenly popped back up in her seat… and fixed her with a sky-blue gaze. She suddenly realized that she was next in line. “O-Oh! Uhm… I, am North Star, from the Astrological Society of Canterlot. Ministry of Astrological Affairs. I have twelve degrees in astrology, 5 in telescope manufacture… a-and, if I do say so myself…” she was attempting to roll with it, a smile coming to her face. “A personal degree in telling if a pony sitting across from me has a terribly bad poker face.”
 
There was a twitch of the lips. The barest hint of a smile out of the other mare. She disappeared again however, and it was suddenly the bag of flour who was speaking. “I am Madame LeFleur, from the Cabinet of Above the Stove. I am instrumental, if I may say, to the production of our fine establishment’s cakes, cupcakes, cookies, and crumbles. This is a lovely occasion, but I really cannot dawdle long. They’ll be expecting me back before the dinner crowd.”
 
And finally, the most incongruous guest began to speak, a pile of rocks, in a deep gravelly voice. “Ah’m Rocky. Ah ain’t from any fancy high-class place, but ah work th’ fields and help build th’ houses. Ah just got invited to this here big fancy party, and am hopin’ to have a whoopin’ good time!”
 
“Please, Sir Rocky.” Mr Turnip suddenly spoke. “This is not that kind of party.”
 
Instantly, alarm bells went off in North’s head. Young Filly, this is not that kind of party someone had said to the pink one, towards the end of the Gala.
 
“N-now now.” the dark mare spoke up, having reappeared in her seat beside the gator. “Lord Gummy says that every ‘obby’ should have a fair chance to learn some manners. Isn’t that right, Lord Gummy?”
 
The alligator blinked. It was a slow, mistimed blink, one eyelid slower than the other.
 
“There, see? Now, let us move onto our first order of business. That being… how do you like your sugar in your tea? One lump, or two?”
 
“None for me, please.”
 
“I’ll take one.”
 
“I prefer it strong.”
 
“Tea? Ain’t we got any cider ’round here?”
 
That had been Rocky again. For some reason, for their distinct lack of eyes, she could feel glares being directed at him from the other objects. At length, she broke the strange tension with a small polite cough, holding up her hoof. “Two lumps, please.”
 

@Croc  
That’s what I’m wondering.

WHY U NO FINISH COMIC JOSECO?!