Warning: This chapter contains lots of slangs. While the I've developed the context so it might be enough to understand some, others may be a little difficult to pick on. I've decided against annotations.
It was just another cloudy day in the Hayland Islands, the wind carried with itself a gentle breeze, announcing the upcoming end of the winter. Luckily enough, the rain had let up, seemingly to take a break in ruining everypony's day, but its dark clouds still hung ominously on the sky. Thin streaks of golden sunlight pierced the thick blanket of dark clouds, creating the most beautiful scenery. Kester Malt was just finished with his chores at his family's malt farm. The farm was, for generations, the only supply of the town's wheat. But with the ever-growing economy, the family business was forced to grow in order to keep up with other emerging farms. Kester sighed warily, this economical boom was ruining his days, meaning that he would have to work extra hard, and that his father would have to hire another pony to help with the farm again.
Kester was always mesmerized with the sudden turn the land of Equestria took in technological advance. Strange machines and contraptions were invented on an almost daily basis, forcing Kester's father into hiring more and more ponies to help with the expanding business. Kester once asked him why he wouldn’t just use the machines instead of hiring ponies since it had the potential to double or triple the family's income.
"Just because it's faster, doesn't mean its better. Haste makes waste, my son." Kester might have been a simple minded pony, but he was in no way an idiot: he saw the truth in his father's words. Kester always looked at his father with some sort of proud admiration; he seemed to have an answer to just about anything. Kester's drifting thoughts came to an abrupt end when he heard hurried, loud knocks on the door.
"Oi! Kester, yer there?" A familiar voice called. Kester got up from his bed and groggily looked around for his red, tartan kilt. His room was a mess; his father would probably lecture his sorry rump if he were to leave it like that. Kester tried to fight against the seemingly eternal boredom of cleaning up his room and decided just to push everything into some drawers and organize everything afterwards.
"Come on, mate! We're goin' ta' be late fer' Saint Coltrick's Day!" Another familiar voice yelled.
"It's today...?!" Kester shouted to himself and galloped towards the calendar that hung on the door’s interior. He immediately saw the only thing written in the calendar. ‘How could A’ have forgotten?!’
"Come on, Kesterrr...!" He heard the first voice once more. It sounded slightly more impatient than before.
Quickly taking off his red kilt, he dug on the drawers trying to find his green one, randomly throwing pieces of clothes behind himself in his frantic search. Grabbing the first green kilt that he could lay his eyes upon, Kester closed the drawers and tightened the belt around his waist. He galloped towards the mirror and gave allowed himself a quick look at it. ‘Good enough.’ Without paying attention to his once more disorganized room, Kester galloped down the stairs, almost tripping in the process. He reached for the knob and opened the front door, only to find his friends, Plaid and Hops, both bearing annoyed looks on their faces.
"Finally! What took ye' so long?" Plaid said, gesticulating to him with his forehooves. Plaid was a light-gray earth pony with a brown mane, his stud stamp consisted of a button, connected to a needle by a string of thick red wool. Kester noticed that he was wearing his hoof-weaved green kilt. It often amuses Kester the level of detail that Plaid often put on his clothes, and that was exactly why his haberdashery was so well known across the small town and beyond.
"Sorry... A' forgot wha' day wha’ today." Kester said rubbing his forehoof on the back of his head sheepishly.
"How could ya' forget about St. Coltrick's Day!?" Hops said. Hops was a caramel-coated earth pony with a orange, reddish mane; his stud stamp pictured a single hops cone, laying lazily besides a Maß filled with beer. He was one year younger than the pair, but that never stopped him from putting both stallions in their places should they mess with him.
"A' guess tha' working on tha' farm musta' gettin ta' me. But A'm here now, so don' ye' two scuddy runners fret abou' it no more." Hops didn't mind the playful taunt, but Plaid was still visibly annoyed. Plaid kept his forehooves crossed, looking sternly at Kester while Hops galloped towards the ’Clover’s’, the best pub in town -- and, oddly enough, the only one who sold Kester’s family prized whiskey; Jura. Kester looked at Plaid and tilted his head towards the galloping Hops. Plaid’s expression instantly shifted and he let out a heartily laugh before galloping after Hops.
“Oi! Wait up, Hops!” Plaid yelled at him.
Hops continued galloping and only bothered to turn his head and scream at both. "Come on, lads! Let's get mad wae it!"
* * *
"... ah Plaid, ye' shouda' seen tha’ look on Kester's face when tha' bird slapped 'im silly." Hops cheerfully said while delivering a playful jab at Kester's left hind leg. Hops and Plaid laughed loudly at how silly Kester would act when trying to score a mare.
"An' how could A' know tha' lass was already married?" Kester said in his defense, his tone was a happy one nonetheless.
"Ye' already knew!" Plaid said, holding back his laughter. "Oh, Trishna, A' love ya'! Leave 'im an’ be ma' one an' only!" He said, mimicking Kester's voice, which made Hops’ guffaw even louder than before. "Ma' only regret is havin' ta' pay fer' tha' round o' Jura. Gettin' to tha' bar made me miss seein' Kester gettin' slapped." He said, wiping the tears out from his eyes.
"Guess A' was total rhodesy tha' day, huh?" Kester said as the trio entered the Clover's. The wooden pub was a large structure, fit to accommodate lots of ponies at once. But today being St. Coltrick’s Day, it was really crowded with earth ponies, unicorns and pegasi alike. Some wore entire green outfits while others only wore some small decor like a hat or a kilt; but gaze upon anywhere and you'd see green in everypony present. The pub smelled slightly of old, burned wood and alcohol, which created a nice rustic atmosphere. Especially in the weather of this winter's end. Even though it was very noisy inside of it, nopony seemed to mind. On the contrary, it only fueled the feeling of acceptance, prompting everypony to have nothing but a good time on that festive date. All the ponies chatted, laughed and drunk and, every time a pony cheered, no matter who, the entire pub cheered back in unison, giving one a heartwarming feeling of unity between those ponies.
"Tha's jus’ it, Kest. Yer' trully are tha’ strongest o' us when it comes ta' drinkin'. But ye' never know when ta' stop... or listen." Hops said playfully, to which Kester snickered and nodded in reply. His mind was focused on getting himself some Jura before the other eager customers could drink the pub dry. Kester wasn't a beer-type of stallion, oh no. His thirst demanded a superior type of drink.
"Hops, get us a table, will ye'? Me an' Plaid will handle tha' drinks. Wha's yer' poison fer' tonight?" Kester said, already heading towards the bar.
"A'm thinking abou' startin' slow tonight. Jus’ brin' me one o' tha' house's Scoltish ale beer." Hops shouted through the crowd of happy, half-drunk ponies.
Maneuvering through all those ponies was a hard task. Kester was now curious as to how could he possibly make his way back to the table Hops picked without spilling the drinks. Dismissing those thoughts for later, Kester and Plaid approached Schnapps, the barcolt and owner of the Clover’s.
"Kester! Plaid! Yupty today?" Schnapps said, a huge, friendly smile plastered onto his face.
"Ya' know... the usual. A few drinks with ma' friends 'ere, have a good time. Hops says ‘ello, by tha' way." Plaid said to the barcolt.
"One Jura, one o' yer' finest, home brewed Scoltish ale an' whatever 'tis tha' Plaid wants ta' drink." Kester said, eager to calm his dry throat and start the night properly.
"'Tis nice ta' see ye' too, Kest." Schnapps reprimanded him, but still kept the happy smile on his face. He had known Kester since he was but a little colt, being a friend of the Malt family and all. Kester's younger years made Schnapps learn just how much eager the stallion was to get his hooves on some Jura anytime he could. "If Jura is wha' yer' after, A'd tell you ta' order more tha' one mug. Tha' place isn't really tha' slow today an' A' might run dry o' it anytime now, if ya' ken wha' A' mean?" Sure Schnapps was blunt enough for anypony to understand him, but that didn't stop him from giving a friendly wink.
"A'd like one o' Jura too!" Plaid said, eager to get drunk as fast as he could before moving on to other types of beverages.
"Oi! Schnapps. Make tha' a bottle, then.” Kester said to the barcolt and turned to face Plaid. “We can share it with Hops too when he's finish'd with his." Kester also knew that, with a whole bottle of Jura to themselves, there was no need to get up, dodge the crowd of ponies in order to ask for more drinks at the bar. Not for himself at least. Not to mention that the closed bottle couldn't spill its contents when they returned to the table.
After paying Schnapps, Plaid and Kester tried to the best of their abilities to walk through the crowd of ponies. Kester maintained the bottle of Jura at his grasp and left Plaid to tend Hops' mug... which, like Kester imagined earlier, lost more and more of its contents as the ponies advanced through the crowd. Finally reaching the table that Hops chose near some windows, Kester set the prized bottle on the table whilst Plaid set down his own mug while giving his eager friend his, which Hops was quick to tackle and drink from. With a satisfied 'Aaaahhhh', Hops eyes the bottle of Jura and asked Kester, raising a brow.
"One whole bottle? Just how drunk are ye' plannin' ta' get tonight, lad?"
"'Tisn't all mine, Hops. Tha' place is full with ponies, so Schnapps told us ta' get one whole bottle before he would be sold out o' Jura. We're goin' ta' share it over tha' night." Kester gave a small chuckle. "An' ye' tha' one getting’ mad wae by drinkin' like tha'."
"Actually, Kest... Hops is right. One bottle is too much fer' even tha' three o' us." Plaid said. He knew first hand that Hops' intuitions more than once proved themselves to be correct. Every time Hops told Kester to go slow on the drink it often ended the same way; with Kester doing something he shouldn't and getting a concerned reprimand by Plaid while Hops laughed.
"Argh. Not ye' too, Plaid!" Kester said whilst he poured the drink in Plaid's mug. "Ye' lads worry too much." Hops couldn't help but laugh a little when a mental image of the probable outcome of Kester's antics came to his mind. Kester paid no attention to the younger stallion's humor and raised his bottle. "Slaandjivaa!"
As the trio's mugs and bottle clinked together, all the ponies present turned to face their table and cheered back in unison: "Slaandjivaa!"
* * *
"... an' then what does Melrick do? He calls tha' Blueblood prince a trunk monkey." Kester said and cracked up, failing to contain his heartily laugher, one that was soon accompanied by Hops'. The trio was drinking for quite some time now and, through the course of the night some ponies entered the pub while some left it, keeping the balance of ponies almost constant. While Hops and Plaid were drinking moderately from Kester's bottle, the stallion in question had already gulped one half of the bottle all by himself.
"A' think he's lucky tha' prince didn't call his lapdogs ta' arrest 'im." Plaid said giving out a snicker. "A' mean- sure tha' prince acts all Susy-ish, but tha' doesn't mean ya' can call it on 'is face. Tha’ Melrick dude seems like one crazy bastard." Kester and Hops weren't exactly friends with Melrick. He was more like a one-time drunk companion that both one day; one of those friendly strangers one always meets when overly drunk. That is, if one doesn't become the friendly stranger himself.
Kester’s eyes wandered the pub and he suddenly stopped laughing and sat straight on his chair. Hops and Plaid quickly turned around to see what suddenly grabbed his attention, but both had it already figured out: only two things could make Kester behave like that. His father and good looking mares. Plaid just facehooved at the prospect of Kester probably having his mind already set in winning a nip from that mare.
“Duty calls.” He said and got up from his chair, heading to the bar. Neither of the friends tried to stop him as both knew he could be as stubborn as a mule when it came to courting mares. Hops and Plaid were a bit angered at the fact that his friend was oh-so-eager to leave them for some random mare. But all was not lost; just as Hops turned to complain to Plaid about Kester’s attitude, something caught his attention. Two mares, one leaning on the other, clearly drunk from one night of partying, were passing by the table. Not losing one second, Hops poked Plaid in the ribs and gave him a look with both brows raised, tilting his head towards the mare duo. As the message became clear on Plaid’s mind, a smile crept up on his face. He turned to Hops and said. “Drunk eager tourists.” To which Plaids only nodded.
“Oi! Where are two fine quines as yer'selves going in such rush?” Hops asked in his friendly tone, forcing his voice to sound a couple of years older. His slangs never failed him in getting a tourist mare curious.
“We were, like, heading back to the hotel.” One mare said in an accent that was familiar to both stallions. The town was filled by tourists like these two eager drinkers when St. Coltrick’s Day was at hoof.
“Yeah, it’s like, really late and we’re a bit wasted.” The other mare said before having a giggling fit. She lost balance from her friend’s hoof and staggered; her words true to her actions.
“So soon? Tha’ fun is only startin’!” Hops has cast the line and Plaid was quick to help him reel in.
“Aye. Sit down a bit, have a few drinks. On tha’ house. It’s St. Coltrick’s Day after all. Don’t fret yer’selves abou’ tha’ time. Me an’ Hops ‘ere can accompany ye’ to tha’ hotel if ya’ want. Now, where did ya’ say ye’ came from?” Plaid said with the most friendly face he could muster, grinning madly on the inside.
Both mares looked one at each other and started giggling. Bingo. They took the bait: hook, line and sinker. Both sat facing the stallions and drank from the bottle Kester forgot on the table. It was just small-talk at first, but then the conversation took an interesting turn as both mares began to feel more comfortable with the duo. Plaid and Hops were happy to acknowledge that the mares returned their flirts with ones of their own.
* * *
Both dates weren't exactly a charm: Although those two mares seemed comfortable enough to even sit on Plaid's and Hops' laps, both stallions grew tired of them. Even though the conversation was spinning around flirts and teases, that was just it; both mares seemed to be brainless. Plaid and Hops could tolerate that, if it meant that both stallions would be able to get to pick their locks. But the fact that one of the mares puked on the table and passed out on top of it didn't help much. While the mare galloped, carrying her overly drunk friend on her back, Hops turned to Plaid with a terrified expression on his face.
"A' was goin' ta' kiss 'er, Plaid. A' swear ta' Luna tha' A' was goin' ta' kiss tha' mare just before she boaked!" Hops said in his shocked state, to which Plaid could only laugh at.
"Well, think abou' it. Ye' didn' kiss 'er, no need ta' stay like tha', Hops." Plaid have a little jab on Hops's arm, trying to cheer him up a little and yank him away fom those thoughts.
"Aye, but... A' was jus' goin' ta' stand up and kiss 'er... then... then..." Hops couldn't continue, his own stomach was already turning itself inside of him. He put his hoof over his mouth and coughed a few times before recomposing herself.
Plaid saw Hops’ dumbstruck face and smacked his head with his hoof. “Just stop, lad. If ye’ get all mardy on me an’ start cryin’, A’ swear A’ll leave you here by yerself!!”
Kester's wasn’t sweel either. Tried as he might, the mare on the bar was interested in only one thing: how many drinks could she get Kester to buy her before he became too suspicious. He first approached the mare and began a conversation and she, feeling her opportunity rise, just kept stalling Kester’s advences while asking Schnapps for more and more drinks. It almost ended in violence when Kester refused to pay for her drinks. She turned to Schnapps, complaining about Kester, but Schnapps quickly silenced her. He was there the whole time and he never heard Kester saying that he would buy her a drink, she asked for those herself.
After some time, the mare gave up and paid for all her drinks, cursing both Kester and Schnapps, whose only response was to look at each other and laugh at how stupid this whole situation was. Kester spent some time talking to Schnapps, sitting by the counter before returning to his table.
"Oi! Back so soon?” Hops asked, seemingly no longer grossed out by what happened to him before. “We thought ye' were gettin' some nip from tha' gal." He said, tilting his head towards the bar.
"Ah... ‘tis a long story. Let me drink a bit first then A'll tell ye' abou' it." And so the trio was reunited once again.
Whilst the not-so-romantic shenanigans were taking their place, some ponies had left the pub, which prompted the trio to shift from table to table in order to get closer to the bar after they were reunited. Since Kester's bottle had already been completely drunk, being near the bar made it all easier for the Stallion to grab another bottle for himself. A little band, consisting on some eager ponies from the town, asked Schnapps' permission to play some songs at the pub cost-free; they just wanted to get some attention to themselves while heightening the mood a little more. Not that anypony was in a bad mood that day, but a dose of some carefully selected folk songs, added with the drunken-happy atmosphere on the pub, was always welcome.
"Looks like tha' band's ready ta' get started." Plaid pointed out the obvious. Hops was not so eager with the band's arrival, that would probably mean Kester would try to do something stupid on the stage to get the attention of some mares.
"Hmmm..." Kester pondered to himself that he should probably wait: should the crowd like the band's musics, then he would go on the stage and sing with them. It wouldn't be the first time Kester intruded in a band's performance just to find out that they played like a bunch of deaf ponies.
"Kester, A' know wha' yer' thinkin'.No!" Hops said with a bit of annoyance in his voice. One funny thing about Hops was that the stallion's mood was prone to sudden changes while under the alcoholic influence, shifting from full-rage mode to a state of complete mental nirvana at the snap of a hoof.
"Come on, lads! It's just a bit o' fun." Kester's speech was heavily slurred.
"Oh, ye' said that last time. Yer' never giving any ear to wha' Hops says and ye' always get in trouble for tha'." Plaids said. Kester was about to retort some drunken mumbling logic when the pub's doors were kicked open from the outside, connecting to the inside wall and making a loud crash. Our trio didn't even have to look to know who did it.
"Choob..." The tree stallions muttered in unison.
Choob and his two friends entered the pub bearing mischievous grins. Everypony except for the tourist knew that Choob was the town’s ignorant bully. The one who was always boasting, getting into unnecessary trouble and treating everypony like they were trash. Just the mere sight of him and his friends made Schnapps turn his joyful smile into an upset frown.
"Choob, ya' better not try anythin’ funny tonight or A'll thr-"
"Relax, old timer.” Choob cut him short. “Me an' ma' friends ‘ere just want somethin' ta' freshen our throats a bit." Choob said giving a fake smile to the barcolt. "An' fer' tha' record, A' only came ta' this place because all tha' other pubs were already closed." Schnapps knew it was a lie; anypony would be an idiot to close their pubs on St. Coltrick's Day. Choob was about to go back into insulting Schnapps and demean his pub when he saw a familiar face. Choob locked eyes with Kester as he slowly advanced towards the table.
"Well... well, well, well. Look at wha' we have 'ere, boys. If ‘tisn't Pester, Chops and Maid. What are ye' three fillies doin' ‘ere, hmm? Tryin' ta' get into each other's mings?" Choob said, spitting saliva over the floor as he talked. Just as he was done speaking, his friends broke into a forced guffaw.
"... Choob.” Kester spat. “Glad ta' see tha' teacher yer' momma is payin' with her rump is helpin' ya' learn how ta' speak...” He said, turning to Plaid and Hops, snickering. “Ye' almost got our names right this time." The insult, however didn't daunt Choob. His lips curled into an annoyed frown as he thought how to get back at him.
"Oooohhh... Did A' hit too close ta' home, Pester?"
"Tha's wha' she said." Kester wryly said, folding his forehooves and lifting both eyebrows at Choob. Smiling proudly as he acknowledged that the little pun made Choob's patience near an end.
Choob hit the table with both his forehooves and leaned forward, locking his gaze with Kester’s. "How abou' ya' say tha' one more time if ya' have it in ye'!" He said, lifting one of his forehooves threateningly.
"Not only are ye' dumb, but youse deaf now?" Kester, even in his drunken state, wasn't scared of that pony. On the contrary, he would love to teach him some manners again. Plaid and Hops were snickering at how moronic Choob looked when angry. His face seemed to swell and his cheeks and ears burned in a crimson tone.
"OK, tha's it!" Choob reached out to grab Kester, but he leaned backwards, avoiding Choob completely. Both Plaid and Hops rose from their seats and lifted their forehooves, ready to support his friend in the fight to come. Choob was just going to launch himself at Kester when a loud voice echoed through the pub.
"Ye' two better cut it! No fightin' in 'ere!" Schnapps was clearly upset with Choob's attitude and knew that if a fight were to happen, he would have to make all the ones involved to leave.
"Hmph... Ye're lucky tha' old stallion is so eager ta' keep this mud hole intact. Otherwise, A'd set ma' record straight, with ya' face." Choob said spitting at the floor.
"How abou' we set it right 'here? Hoof-wrestlin’." Kester suggested, not wanting to let Choob get away with his pride intact.
"Oh please, Pester. A'd win in a hoof-wrestlin’ match with ye' any day. Yer' nothin' but a queef.” Choob said, trying to intimidate Kester and failing at it.
"So wha's keeping you?" Kester once again folded his forehooves and raised one brow at Choob.
Choob looked uncertain himself. He knew that, in a fight, he could take Kester out because the stallion was drunk... but in a hoof-wrestling match, Kester would be able to focus a lot more, not needing to dodge or block any attack, and Choob knew just how strong that stallion was. Choob looked to his two friends worriedly and grunted. He sat down on the opposite side of Kester's table, pushing Hops and Plaid out of the way. He lifted his foreleg and placed his elbow on the table, waiting for Kester to do the same. Kester rubbed both his forehooves together and placed his right foreleg on top of the table, grinning to himself ‘Piece o’ piss.’
"On three! ...one." Choob started counting. Kester could feel his and the other stallion's tension building through the locked hooves.
"Twothreego!" Choob said, starting to pour all his might into his right forehoof. Kester, in his drunken state, didn’t respond in time and was halfway down to the table. He regained focus and started to push back the other stallion's hoof, stopping Choob from pushing his hoof further. Even being stronger than Choob, Kester was drunk and his arm was bent in a uncomfortable position.
"Come on Kester, don't let tha' idiot get ye'." Hops yelled.
Sweat dripped out of Kester’s forehead. He was able to struggle against Choob and gain some ground, returning to the starting position; but that had cost him a lot of his strength. Kester looked furiously into Choob's eyes and saw that the pony was also doing an inequine amount of effort in order to push the opponent's hoof back down. Kester closed his eyes and focused all of himself on the match. He quickly tipped the scales and finally was able to push Choob's hoof towards the table.
Choob’s hoof connected to the table, producing a dry sound. Kester quickly rose from his seat and turned to face the crowd of ponies. "A' won!" Kester's cheers were soon cut to an end when he felt a pair of hooves hit him in the back of his head. Everything started to get blurry and Kester limped forward. He lifted one hoof and started massaging the place where both hooves connected and, when he was able to keep balance once again, he turned around to face Choob and lowered the hoof massaging his head slowly. He glared daggers at Choob, who was now looking really scared; eyes moving from side to side, not knowing what to do.
"A'LL PUNCH YER' TEGS DOWN YER’ BUCKIN' THROAT!" Kester shouted before leaping towards Choob. The tackle made both stallions fall to the floor, where Kester quickly got the upper hand and started punching Choob in the face. Hops and Plaid were quick to jump from their seats. While Hops yelled at one of Choob’s lapdogs, bringing him to a one-on-one fight, Plaid simply galloped to the other and sucker-punched him while he was distracted.
The members of the band looked at each other in confusion before shrugging and started playing a music that somehow fit the whole scene. Soon, your typical bar fight scene ensued.
The fight was almost comical; Plaid and Hops were too drunk to fight properly, prompting the other ponies to take the most of the offensive. But as they did, the drunken magic began to work and soon all the ponies involved in the fight looked like they were dancing with each other. Choob had managed to free himself from Kester’s assaults and got up. As Choob and his friends tried mercilessly to land a hit, Kester, Hops and Plaid were staggering, evading all of their tries while countering with a few punches and bucks of their own.
Choob picked a wooden chair and lifted it in the air, ready to smite Kester. He ran to Choob and held the chair before it could hit. Both ponies kept pushing the chair over the other, trying to make him fall. Kester overpowered Choob, who fell to the ground. But without Choob’s push, Kester staggered and fell also. Choob took this opportunity to gain the upper hand and mounted over Kester. He tried to buck Choob out of him, only to find out that he was too drunk to do so. Choob, with Kester pinned firmly on the floor, began to punch him mercilessly. But Kester fought back and headbutted Choob’s muzzle.
Choob fell to the floor and took his time in getting up. Kester also staggered, but managed to remain on his four hooves. Choob massaged his nose with his hoof; a stream of ruby red blood flowing from it. “Alright, tha’s it!” Choob yelled and removed a pocket knife from his kilt’s pocket. Holding it in between his teeth, Choob charged at Kester with the knife. At that instant, a shattering sound was heard and Kester saw Choob fall to the ground before him. Everypony in the pub stopped what they were doing to see what was going on. A few steps behind the fallen Choob, stood Schnapps, holding a still intact bottle of Jura on his teeth. Kester looked wide eyed at Choob, before snickering a bit and pointing at him, falling to the ground laughing at his missing tooth.
Schnapps picked up the bottle with his forehoof and placed it onto a nearby table. He glared ferociously at Choob’s two friends. "Get. Out. Grab tha' idiot an' go now! A' don' want ta' see any of ye' here again. Understood?" Choob’s friends were too frightened to answer properly, so one of them just nodded his head. Plaid let go of his attacker and allowed him to rush to Choob’s aid. Both stallions lifted Choob and carried him away. Halfway through the door, one stallion stopped and glared at Schnapps.
"Ya'll see, Schnapps! We'll call tha' Polis on ye'!"
"Please do. A can't wait ta' tell 'em ma'self just wha' ye' three been doin' around town." The pony didn't reply, he just furrowed his brow and carried on with the other stallion and an unconscious Choob.
Kester was getting up to his feet when he noticed the bottle of Jura on the table. Only then crossed his mind that Choob could be very hurt. "Schnapps, A' don' mean ta' sound ungrateful, but... A' think ye' just kill'd Choob."
"No, Kester, he's goin' ta' be fine by tomorrow. A' just knocked 'im out." He said, visibly annoyed: at the fact that Choob survived or at the fight itself, nopony knows. "Now it's yer' turn. Ya' three, get out." Schnapps sounded more disappointed than angry. Not muttering one word, Kester, Plaid and Hops complied and left the pub with Schnapps following closely behind. A small limp on their walk here and there, but nothing too serious.
Once they were out, Schnapps expression softened a bit: "Look lads, A' know tha' they started it. But tha's tha' rules. It's gettin' very late now anyway. Why don' ya' three go home an' have some shut eye?" He said, hoofing the Jura bottle to Kester. "Ya' can come back later. Ye’ know yer' ma' friends." And then Schnapps turned around, and trotted back into his pub.
The trio walked slowly through the path that lead to the small town, leaving a trail behind them on the thick snow. Each walked quietly, pondering on the day’s happenings. Even Hops was unusually quiet. Even though the wind was strong and chilly, Kester and his friends were accustomed to the harsh weather. The small town looked pretty good when bathed in the moonlight that soared though the thick, seemingly eternal blanket of clouds; small lights could be seen on the windows here and there; probably from ponies who either were still partying or the ones who had nopony to party with. When the path forked into two directions, Plaid and Hops bid a quiet farewell to Kester, which only nodded as they descended the hill into the sleeping town and Kester ascended towards his house.
* * *
The hill that stood between Kester and home wasn't steep, but it was a hard work climbing it with his body hurting everywhere. Kester slowly massaged his jaw with his hoof. A smile appeared on his face when he remembered Choob’s missing tooth flying in slow motion through the pub. He chuckled a bit when he thought what would Schnapps do once he finds the missing tooth. Kester's luck humored him; he nearly got himself a good beat from Choob, a feat he never thought could happen. Finally reaching his house, Kester removed his keys from one of the pockets in his green, battered kilt. He opened the door and trotted inside, but came to a full stop when he heard his father’s voice.
"Kest, is tha' ye'?" Kester knew that his father would too laugh the rough day he had. He decided to just leave the part where he courted that mare out; his father always taught him to treat ladies with respect. He shrugged and decided that he would do so in the morning, when his body didn’t ache as much.
"Aye, dad. A'm home!" He wearily replied.
"How was yer' day, son?"
"After A' left with Hops an' Plaid? A real mess, da. A'll tell ye' all abou' it in tha' mornin'." Kester began to trot up the stairs but paused once more after his father directed him another question.
"Ye' must be real tired, eh Kest?" Kester didn't understood where his father was leading him. He noticed that his voice was quiet. Too quiet. Nonetheless, Kester fought back his imagination and answered back.
"Aye. A'm pretty beat, da. A'm goin' ta' bed, now."
"Then just let me ask ye' one more thing." His father kept his calm tone and rose from his couch. "Why is yer' room in such a big mess?"
Kester gulped.
