For the third morning in a row, the sleep of a talented tailor was disrupted by what had become to her the most hated of sounds.
Rarity buried her face deeper in her pillow. She was so tired of this. Perhaps if she just ignored it—
She tore off her sleep mask with a groan.
She looked at the clock beside her bed—it was very early morning. Indeed, it was scarcely even late enough to be called morning at all.
Grating her teeth, the young unicorn got up.
“Stop it!” she shouted.
There was no response from downstairs.
Rarity rolled her eyes. She always does this. In the name of all things good and dignified, the next time Sugarcube Corner is wrecked…
She walked over and opened the bedroom door. “Pinkie!” she called. “Stop this at once!”
Rarity growled. The next time, I will tell that demented droll that she can find someplace else to stay.
Still in her nightgown, she began her groggy trek down the stairs.
“Whee!” Pinkie giggled. “This is so much bouncier than—”
She stopped. “Uh…”
The pink prattler gave a guilty grin at the unicorn who’d just arrived at the boutique’s ground floor. “Uh, hi, Rarity!”
Pinkie hesitated, then hopped down.
Rarity scowled and went over to the victim of Pinkie’s nonstop bouncing. It appeared mostly undamaged. “This is the third morning in a row, Pinkie. I will not tell you again.”
The unamused unicorn turned back to the spoony springer. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. “The fainting couch is not a trampoline.”
Poor Rarity. We all know Pinkie would totally do this if she stayed at Rare’s. Rarity’s reaction was priceless, and the “The fainting couch is not a trampoline” line made me crack up more than it should.