Dash was tearing up. How could this be happening?

“Aww, don’t be sad Dash,” said Pinkie.
 “Look, this’ll cheer you up. I brought you a friend.”

Seemingly out of nowhere,
Pinkie produced a brightly painted blue and yellow skull. It was about pony
sized, but it had a very defining feature: a beak.

What’s this, some kind of giant bird?

Dash gaped in shock. “Is…is that….is…that?”

“Hey, Dash lets hang
together. These ponies are lame-os. Dweebs dweebs dweebs,” Pinkie mimicked.

Oh, huh, sounds like it was a friend of Dash’s.

“I caught her right before she left town. Remember when I left the party
for about twenty minutes? That wasn’t enough time to play with her of course; I
had to wait till after the party to do that. But boy am I glad I did. It was
worth it for the flavor alone.

Jeez.

Griffons taste like two animals at once, it’s amazing.

Griffons… I guess if we already have talking ponies in three or more variants, griffons aren’t that much weirder.

Don’t griffons hate horses, mythologically speaking, though? I seem to recall that being the reason hippogriffs were a thing, as the personification of impossibility.

I know she didn’t have a number like everyone else in Ponyville, but
when was I gonna get another chance to try griffon? I probably should have
asked where she came from so I could have gotten more, but I forgot.

The griffons don’t know how lucky they are.

I’ll tell you what though, she was quite the fighter. She lasted a long
time, which was a lot of fun for me. I got the chance to play with somebody
other than a pony and try new things. It’s too bad she had such a meanie mouth.
She said so much bad stuff I just had to take her tongue out. You know, bad
language makes for bad feelings, Rainbow Dash.”

Ouch.

I… suppose it does?

“Like it?” Pinkie asked. “I made it myself.”

Oh, I thought you bought it at the mall.

…huh. If Ponyville is alternate Brockton Bay, I wonder if it has a counterpart Weymouth Shopping Mall.

But I guess you shouldn’t look a gift pony in the Weymouth.

Desperately, Dash pleaded with the smiling pony
before her. “Pinkie please, I’m sorry if I did anything to you. I didn’t mean
it. Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anybody.”

“Oh Dash, you didn’t do
anything. It’s just that your number came up and, well, I don’t make rules. We
can’t turn back now.”

So she does this entirely at random? I guess that’s one way to pick victims.

Also if Pinkie doesn’t make rules for this, who does?

Dash’s attention was brought back by a party horn unfurling and tickling
her nose. She gaped at Pinkie Pie, who was standing right in front of her. The
party pony was wearing a dress quilted from dried skin, emblazoned with cutie
marks.

Emblazoned with what now?

On her back fluttered six pegasus wings, all of different colors. As the
earth pony skipped in excitement, her necklace of severed unicorn horns clacked
together loudly.

Okay yeah, alright, fine, they’re actually ponies. Apparently Pinkie is an “earth pony”, whatever that means… and unicorns are a thing.

Not gonna lie, I wasn’t expecting this stuff from Wildbow.

If these characters are actually talking ponies, what the hell are they doing in this setting? Are they living in a whole town full of ponified case-53s? Or maybe this is an alternate reality, or immigrants from one?

Maybe Ponyville is an alternate reality Brockton Bay, and we’re getting to know today’s Slaughterhouse member by proxy through her pony counterpart? But why?

I think I’m gonna need some more evidence before I come to any conclusions here.

“Oh no.” Dash reeled in horror at the image presented to her. The room
was decorated with a typical but twisted Pinkie Pie flair. Colorful streamers
of dried entrails fluttered around on the ceiling, brightly painted skulls of
all sizes were attached to the walls, and organs done up in pastels filled with
helium were tied to the backs of chairs.

Wow.

Uh, like what you’ve done with the place?

The tables and chairs were made of bones and the preserved flesh of past
ponies. Dash cringed upon seeing the center piece of the table nearest to her.
The heads of four foals, their eyes closed as if they were sleeping, were
wearing party hats made from their own skin. With a thrill of terror, Dash
recognized one of them as Apple Bloom’s classmate Twist.

At least this all happened after Dash got past the denial stage.

Also, is she seriously still doing the “pony” thing under these circumstances? Even extending it to “foals” for the weirdly named kids (the names sound like cape names but she’s treating them like they’re not capes)?

At this point it feels like they might actually literally be talking ponies, which is ridiculous.

Dash’s eyes darted back and forth and then fell upon a patchwork banner
hanging from the rafters.  Made from several tanned pony hides, the words
“Life is a party” were scrawled on it in blood red.

Fetching.

…pony hides. Are they ponies??

Dash was now in full panic mode. She was starting
to hyperventilate. Her mind raced as she tried to reason with the pink pony.
“You can’t do this Pinkie! I’m your friend!”’

Onward to bargaining!

“I know you are and that’s why I’m so happy that I’ve got you here. We
get to share your last moments together, just you and me.” Pinkie was skipping
again.

That’s… sweet?

“But, the other ponies will wonder where I am.
When the clouds pile up, they’ll come looking for me and then you’ll get found
out,” Dash cried in desperation.

Clouds?

I guess maybe Dash’s power allows her to manipulate the weather, and she uses it to keep the skies clear for Ponyville.

“Oh, Dash,” said Pinkie. “Don‘t worry, there are plenty of pegasus ponies to take care of a few clouds. And besides, no one will find out. I mean, how long do you think I’ve been doing this?” And with that ominous statement, the lights suddenly came to life and revealed the rest the room.

Plenty of… well then. I guess this town’s capes are particularly flighty? And apparently anyone who flies can take care of the clouds. That’s weird, but alright.

Anyway, let’s see what the rest of this place is like.