“And then we just have to file Form WALBS-11 over at the permits counter and in two to three weeks you’ll have the permit,” Spike said, picking up the last of an oversized stack of papers as the pink pony accompanying him finished filling it out.
“Thanks Spike,” Pinkie replied, dumping the pencil from her mouth and stretching to get the kinks out from having spent the last hour filling out various forms while the baby dragon ran them around the business bureau and replaced them with new forms. “This would have been a real adventure if you hadn’t been around to help me out. Where’d you learn all this stuff anyway?”
“Twilight had me spellcheck most of her Bureaucracy 101 homework back in Canterlot,” Spike sniffed proudly, “So when I heard you were going to try and put together an ala carte cart to sell baked goods around Ponyville today I thought I’d see if you needed help.”
“Thanks again, Spike.” Pinkie smiled. “When we get back to Sugar Cube Corner I’m going to bake you SUCH a huge cake you’ll-“ Pinkie cut off suddenly as her ears pricked up, the tips igniting into little puffs of flame.
“Woah,” Spike exclaimed, “Pinkie your ears!”
“Sh!” Pinkie stopped the dragon, “A crime is ahoof.” Pinkie’s eyes scanned the room, scrutinizing all the bored and annoyed looking ponies. Spike followed her look and could see nothing suspicious. Slowly Pinkie raised her forehooves and extinguished the tiny flames on her ears. Lowering herself to Spike’s level she whispered conspiratorially, “Spike, I have a very important mission for you.”
“W- what is it?”
Pinkie crawled over to one of the plastic potted plants in the room and rooted around in the fake dirt for a moment before producing a half dozen plastic yellow capsules the size of a quail’s egg with tiny dials on them. She returned and solemnly placed them in the dragon’s claws, and led him over toward where the restrooms were tucked out of sight.
“Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to take these and plant them throughout the building. And while you’re doing that you need to make sure you find the office of the pony who has today circled on their calendar, his has to go off last. We want to make sure when these puppies go off that everypony is going to run through the lobby to get out. When they are all gathered there, that’s where I’ll be waiting for them,” Pinkie explained to the dragon in a serious tone.
“Pinkie, what’s going on? What crime? And what’re these?” Spike asked, holding up the capsules.
“Stink bombs,” Pinkie chirped, abandoning her serious demeanor instantly. “I have them stashed all over Ponyville in case of stink bomb emergency.” Pinkie turned serious again. “And this is most definitely a stink bomb emergency.”
“Um… okay,” Spike respondeded, “But this is a government office, they’re not just going to let me waltz around like I own the place.”
“Don’t worry Spikey, your auntie Pinkie has got you covered.” Pinkie Pie pushed another plant that was placed between the restroom aside to reveal the metal grate behind it. “Any secret infiltration mission needs a scene with an air vent!”
Before Spike could respond to that he found himself whisked into the vent behind the grate, and the grate replaced and screwed shut.
“Now it’ll take me a half an hour to get my end ready but after that they’ll be on to us, so you’ve gotta accomplish your mission before then,” Pinkie said, giving the screws a final turn, “See you later Spike!”
“Wait, Pinkie!” Spike called out, and watched as the pink pony hopped away and out the front door of the office. “Ugh, fine,” he groaned. Tucking his payload closer to his scaly chest he started crawling through the vents.
A half hour later the purple dragon arrived back where he’d started and found Pinkie waiting for him. The trip had been harrowing, the vents were dusty and hot, and at one point while he peeked out of the grate in an office ceiling his sweat had almost given him away to the workers below before he could check their calendar. Undaunted, he’d managed to find the office of the pony with the date circled in his calendar and had set the stink bombs throughout the building.
“All done Pinkie,” he informed the pony as she held the grate open for him to crawl out, “The bombs should go off right about…”
The sound of dismayed ponies could be heard from all over as rooms started filling with noxious yellow smoke. Ponies screamed and choked and could be heard running elsewhere in the building.
“Now,” Spike finished, looking smug, “So did you go and get the guards to help prevent the crime?”
“Nope.” Pinkie shook her head. “I got something even better.” The pair walked back out to the main lobby where Pinkie had left a large piece of artillery parked.
“Woah,” Spike said, “A cannon? This seems serious.”
“It always is Spike,” Pinkie said darkly, “It always is.”
Ponies began flocking into the room to find the front doors of the building had been blocked by Pinkie’s party wagon and the deranged pony herself had a cannon pointed at them. Spike covered his ears as Pinkie kicked the back of the weapon and it discharged violently. Streamers, balloons and party hats sailed out in an uncanny arc to land in bunches around the room and appropriately on pony heads respectively.
“Wait,” Spike said, uncovering his ears as the last pony, the culprit he’d fingered, ran into the lobby, “That’s the Party Cannon I kept hearing about?”
“Happy Birthday!” Pinkie cried to the pony who’d come in last just as the ponies who’d first come in were beginning to get a proper panic going.
“What?” the pony in question replied looking shocked as everypony in the room turned to look at him, “I thought you all forgot my birthday again this year.” The office ponies exchanged glances before turning back to their compatriot and immediately playing along with Pinkie’s scheme. In short order a party was in full swing. Spike and Pinkie were quietly thanks by several friends of the birthday pony who had ashamedly forgotten his birthday for the second time in as many years. Though the janitor pony had to be calmed down with promises that the stink bombs could be negated easily with perfume bombs that Pinkie had hidden in another part of the building entirely.
“So wait,” Spike said, between paper cups of punch, and slices of cake from the party wagon, “What was the crime?” he asked Pinkie.
“Any birthday that goes uncelebrated is a crime silly,” Pinkie replied with a giggle and a snort.
“So your ears catching fire was…”
“My Pinkie Sense for ‘somewhere nearby is a pony who everypony has forgotten their birthday,” Pinkie explained.
“Huh. Well, thanks for letting me help.”
“You can be my crime stopping sidekick anytime Spikey Wikey.”
Oh, Pinkie. And poor Spike, getting caught up in her schemes. But all’s well that ends well, I suppose, and slices of Pinkie’s cake at a birthday party is a pretty good way to make up for climbing through air ducts for a half hour. Take it from me.