We Met In A Bar And Drank Together
I walked into a bar that night.
It wasn’t an elegant bar. At all. In fact, the bar reminded me of blue cheese. You know how there’s a point in which a place is so utterly disgusting, so unbelievable horrendous, that when you look at it you kind of see its appeal? I believe that’s what the guy who invented blue cheese felt. I mean, he basically saw a stinky, mold-filled piece of aged milk that wasn’t even white and thought “Hey, that looks delicious!”. The place was dark, musky and everything was made out of wood. Not the pretty, light wood my furniture was made of. No, this wood was dark, heavy and had probably been burnt at least once.
So, I saw that bar and the first things that came to my mind were blue cheese and houses on fire. Go figure. That night was going to be a doozy.
Now, I’m not really into bars and pubs and… Well, social life in general. That’s stupid. I don’t like being around ponies; that’s why I became a dentist. Nopony likes dentists. If you think you like your dentist, then you’re lying. Even dentists hate dentists; in fact, I’m pretty sure that nopony hates dentists more than dentists hate themselves. Those teeth-bleaching bastards. I hate them so much.
But anyway, I got sidetracked. As I was saying, I’m not into bars and the like, so I wasn’t really sure if a place like that being almost empty on a Friday night was usual. If it had been completely empty I would have walked out immediately, but with another mare in there? Well, it was harder. Plus, the pony actually turned around, looked at me, and smiled. And the bartender, an old guy with brown fur and white hair, stared at me with hopeful eyes. Walking away now would have made me look like a jerk. So I bit my lip and closed the door.
I went to the counter, which was surprisingly clean. Yeah, it was still made of horrible, stinky wood—I wondered how in the name of Luna you can create a wood that smells like old deer sweat—but I could see my reflection on the thing. Smelly, reflecting wood. Yeah, baby.
“Afternoon,” I said to the mare, who was still smiling at me, and then I sat down. She was a mare with raspberry pink mane, plum-colored coat and fandango eyes. I don’t really know what the heck “fandango eyes” is supposed to mean, but when I first wrote that they were purple-pinkish she asked me to say that instead. So, yeah. Fandango eyes for everypony. I can’t help but imagine a brownish stallion with a moustache and a red cape dancing around a bonfire every time I hear the word “fandango,” so I won’t blame you if you can’t picture her face. Honestly, who the heck cares? We all have the same face. Literally. If I dye my coat and my mane you can’t tell me apart from my sister. Or my mother. Or my neighbor. Or my mailmare. Or any mare in existence who’s not Fleur De Lis, let’s be honest.
Darn it, I hate Fleur De Lis. Both her and her stupid pretty face.
So I sat there, right? And I looked at what that fandango-eyed mare was drinking. She had a very small glass between her hooves, filled with a brown liquid that stinked. Honestly. Everything in that darned place had a horrible smell. So, obviously, that was the best place to order a drink. “Give me a... a beer, please,” I said to the bartender, who nodded and turned around to grab a glass.
“Good choice. I’ve always thought that whiskey tastes far better when you drink at least a couple beers before,” the mare said. By the way, she had a surprisingly mature voice. Like, way too mature-sounding for a mare as young as her. “The name’s Berry Punch.”
Wow. Her parents were jerks. “Mine’s Colgate,” I said, because not saying my name after she had introduced herself would have made me look like a jerk. And yes, I know that my parents were butts too, thank you very much. “And no, I don’t like whiskey.”
“Hmm.” Berry nodded at this and lifted her little glass. With her hooves. Truth be told, I have absolutely no idea about how that thing works. I mean, I’m a unicorn. When I need to move things I use my magic. Earth ponies like Berry—and some unicorns and pegasi, although I sure ain’t one of them—can use her hooves to move glasses and other little things, because apparently hooves are adherent now. One would think that the dominant species in this forsaken world would have developed thumbs by now, but nah, quadruped lifestyle for everypony. Have you ever seen a minotaur? See how they have hands and that looks cool as can be? Yes, that’s exactly my point.
So anyway, Berry hmmed at me and then lifted her little glass, as I was saying. “I think that nopony really likes whiskey,” she said. “Whiskey is not enjoyable by itself, at first. What ponies look for when they ask for whiskey is to reach a particular state of mind, to change the way they see the world. Some ponies want to forget, some want to remember…” She chuckled and looked at me. “And some of us just want to feel the burning sensation in our throats.”
Well, that had probably been the most elegant way to say “Nopony likes this stuff, we just wanna get hammered” I’d ever heard. “Yeah, uh. I still don’t like whiskey,” I said.
“Five bits,” the old bartender said, putting a gigantic glass of beer in front of me. Like, I’m not exaggerating, that thing was huge. I could drown in that thing. There were, like, a bajillion liters of beer in there. It was gargantuan. The Beer to Rule Them All. The Master Beer.
I gave him the money. “Thanks.” Then I took a sip of that thing, and Celestia it was awful. I couldn’t help but mutter a “blaargh” after swallowing.
“So, Colgate,” Berry said. “A mare walks into a bar, alone, on a Friday night. It’s the first time she’s ever been there, and it’s the first time she drinks a beer.”
I stared at her from above my titanic glass of beer. “Good start, I guess, but it lacks a punchline,” I said. “You need to work on your jokes a little more.”
“We just need the second half of that to get it,” she said, chuckling, then drowned her whiskey in one shot. Now, that thing she said? Apparently, that was a pun. Why do I know that? Because Berry explained it to me afterwards. Yes, it’s horrible. No, I won’t dignify that thing by explaining it. You’ll have to guess it by yourself. I don’t recommend doing that. “But why don’t you finish the story for me?”
“Eeeh.” Ooh, so she was talking about me. “Wait, how do you know that this is my first time here?”
“I’ve been at this bar more than once, and you’ve never been here before,” Berry answered. “And from the way Claret looked at you, it was the first time he ever saw you too.” She pointed at my universe-sized beer. “Judging by your reaction after tasting one of the best beers of the whole city, it’s the first time you’ve drank beer in a long time.”
You know, there’s a certain feeling you get in your chest when you realize you’re dealing with a smartass. It’s like being stabbed through your lungs, only more painful. “Yeah,” I said, showing once more my incredible ability to answer every single thing I’m told in a witty manner. I’m charming like that. “I guess I haven’t done this in a while.”
“May I ask why you are doing this now, then?” Berry asked. By the way, I have no idea where the bartender went. I have the theory that bartenders can disappear at will, because I swear to Celestia, that old guy at the other side of the counter had been there, like, three seconds ago.
“Well, a bunch of reasons,” I said, looking away. Then I took another sip of the Beer Overlord, and it tasted as awful as the first one. Blargh. “It’s a long story.”
“Bars are made for long stories, Colgate,” Berry said. If you’re starting to see a pattern here, then I’m afraid you’re right: that mare always talks in mysterious-wiseish-whimsical-sounding sentences. Charming. “And when a mare like you chooses to drink alcohol, my experience tells me that it’s because she has a heavy weight on her shoulders. Maybe telling your story will help?”
“Uuuh. N-nah.” Yes, Colgate. Show her how clever you are by stuttering. That’ll teach her! “It’s a very long story.” I looked at Berry’s cutie mark and frowned. “And, hey, isn’t that a little hypocritical of you?”
“Hmm?” Berry put her hooves on the counter and raised an eyebrow. “Hypocritical, you say?”
“Yeah. I mean…” I pointed at her flank. She had a bunch of grapes and a strawberry as a cutie mark. “You have grapes in there. And you said you’ve been here countless times.” I snorted. “You’re none the wiser to tell me that drinking is bad.”
“I never said so.” Berry smiled. “Drinking is an art by itself, Colgate, and I’ve dedicated a long part of my life to it. But every pony drinks in a different way. Mine?” she pointed at the mini-glass that had contained whiskey not so long ago. “That was a drink to think about life. Yours…” She shook her head. “Yours is a drink for drowning your sorrows.”
I frowned at that. “Yeah, well, I can do whatever I want, thank you very much!” I said in a very indignant tone. I’m good at indignant tones. The key is putting your hoof against your chest, you see. And being high-pitched. Indignant sounds high-pitched. “And that ‘drinking is an art’ stuff is stupid, by the way.”
“Oh? You disagree with me?”
“Yes, I do.” I pointed at my Beer-zilla. “This is a special occasion.” I pointed at her miniglass. “That is not a special occasion. Drinking is bad. I never drink. See? I win.”
Now, don’t go frowning at me. I mean, I’m not jumping on a soapbox here, okay? But I don’t like alcohol. Like, at all. I’m a doctor, after all, and drinking alcohol is a pretty fast way to destroy your liver and your brain at the same time, so excuse me if I think that swallowing a bunch of wine every time you have the chance is stupid.
Plus, have you ever tried to fix the teeth of a pony that drinks too much? Do you know your mouth has bacteria that gets killed by that thing? I know that “no bacteria” sounds good, but in reality, it’s not. And it translates to the worst breath you’ve ever smelled. Especially if you’re an alcoholic, because alcoholics don’t have any sense of smell.
Really, alcohol is just bad. So, um, ignore the fact that I had the Dark Lord Emperor of All Beers in my hooves while I talked with Berry, if you don’t mind. Thanks.
“Alcohol can free your mind,” Berry said. “Alcohol numbs your brain and breaks your body, but it helps you feel better, as long as you don’t overdo it.” She looked at her glass in a thoughtful way. “There’s a point in which every time you drink you’re killing yourself, if only just a little, Colgate.” She sighed. “There’s a point in which you need to choose between enjoying your life and living just a little longer. Do you think that I chose badly?”
I wasn’t thinking that she had chosen badly. I was thinking that I had met that pony for the first time not even fifteen minutes ago and she was already asking me about life and its meaning. See? The night had just started and the party was already crazy like that! Woo-hoo!
“Uh,” I said, showing my verbal ability and extensive vocabulary. “I… don’t know?”
“When every drink you have is a glass of poison,” Berry continued, “but the poison makes you feel better, you think about your life, Colgate. In the end, nothing matters, you know? We’re all going to die anyway.” She smiled. Like, in a somewhat sad way. Not sad sad. More like, I don’t know. Melancholic? “So, we might as well enjoy the ride, right?”
“I… don’t think suicide is good?” Smooth, I know. I’ll repeat this again, in case you’re wondering: I had met this mare for the first time not even fifteen minutes ago. Excuse me if I can’t talk like friggin’ Celestia here. “I guess?”
“You think death is bad, then?” Berry asked. “You think I should enjoy my life?”
“I… Yes?” No, really, what the heck was I supposed to say there? “Wait, so you’re drinking to drown your sorrows too?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I have no sorrows to drown.” She looked at her glass, frowning a little. “I’m happy with my life, Colgate. But when I drink, everything looks better. And I wonder if a good life needs to be long, or if a short life means to die happy.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I drank some more beer from my monumental glass. But when I was finished, Berry was still quiet, so I talked. “Soo… you like drinking.”
“I’ve always… enjoyed it,” Berry said. Then she sighed. “But sometimes I wonder if that was my choice from the start.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. Nodding looked like something good to do. “That’s… Yeah. That’s something.”
“Bars are made for long stories,” Berry said. “That’s what I told you earlier. Do you remember it?”
“Last time I checked, I wasn’t a goldfish,” I said. “So, yeah.”
“Maybe there was more in those words than what I imagined,” she said. “Maybe I need to tell you my story first, and then you’ll tell me yours. Maybe we both can get a weight off our shoulders. What do you think?”
I thought that Berry was weirder than a talking dog. “Uh…” I shrugged. “So you want to tell me your life? Fine, I guess.” I didn’t say anything about telling her my own, though. I’m not really the kind of mare that talks about important things just like that, with ponies that I barely know. Heck, I’m not the kind of mare that talks, period. I’m more into snarking internally. Shocking, I know. “I mean, I have nothing better to do.”
“Claret? Can you fill me up a beer?” Berry asked, and I swear to Celestia that the old guy just materialized in front of us. I even jumped a little when he did so. The guy was creepy. “Long stories call for beers,” Berry continued, putting the money on the counter.
The guy had the beer already on his hoof. So, yeah, he also had that eerie power that allowed him to grab things without fingers, wings or magic. He was an earth pony, by the way. Did I mention that before? I don’t know if I mentioned that before. Storytelling is hard. I glared daggers at him, because ponies with such amazing super powers that aren’t unicorns are not to be trusted.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not racist. It’s just that… Well. If you have a unicorn and an earth pony, one of them can shoot laser beams from her forehead, while the other needs to use her mouth to brush her mane. Yeah.
“When does my story start?” Berry asked. I didn’t say a thing, because even I can recognize a rhetorical question when I hear one. “It’s hard to say. I think… I think it all started with my cutie mark, you see.”
I have to admit it—I kind of started listening to her after that. Like, really listening to her. “Cutie marks, huh?”
“I’ve always thought it’s funny,” Berry continued after drinking some of her beer. She was looking at her drink all the time, by the way. I couldn’t see her fandango eyes. “How foals are told that there’s a special talent only they have, how we play with the idea of fate and destiny…” She chuckled. “When I was a foal, Colgate, I couldn’t wait for my cutie mark. Cutie marks are our identity, our… essence.”
“Cutie marks are stupid,” I muttered.
“Hm?” Berry looked at me. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. Go on.”
Berry smiled and looked at her hooves. “Well, as any foal at that age, I desperately wanted my cutie mark to appear. And one day, it did.” She sighed. “A bunch of grapes and a strawberry. What did I do to get it? I don’t even remember.” She took a sip of her beer. “One morning I woke up and I realized that it had been there for… I don’t know. Hours? Days? I wasn’t the most social pony in my class, so nopony noticed. And my parents…”
I frowned. “I… The same…”
“Hm?”
“The same happened to me,” I said. “When I woke up, it was already there.” I pointed at the hourglass on my flank. “I never knew what made it appear. I didn’t feel anything.”
“Oh.” Berry smiled. “So we both have the same origin, hmm? Life is funny sometimes.” She took another sip of her beer. You might have noticed that I hadn’t drunk anything for a while—it was because the beer was awful. Like, really awful. I still don’t get how anypony can drink that. So I chose to stop drinking. Five bits down the sink, I thought.
Anyway, so Berry kept on talking. Sorry for rambling. She was saying that “Maybe we were destined to meet each other today, after all?”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure. Fate. Why not.”
She shook her head. “What is a foal destined to do with a cutie mark she can recognize? What does a pony do when she has no friends and her own name is Berry Punch?” Berry sighed. “My whole life seemed like I was destined to become a drunk, Colgate. That’s what ponies think when they see me. That’s what I expected, myself.”
Well, yeah. I mean, Berry Punch. Subtle, it was not. “At least your name makes sense,” I said. “But I think I know what happened after you got your cutie mark.”
“You do?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You tried to find out what your talent was, but it was impossible. Fruit? What does that even mean?” I shook my head. “As far as I know, it might as well mean the same as an hourglass. Nopony knows. And when even you don’t know yourself, you feel like you’re worthless.”
Berry just looked at me before taking another sip.
“So, you eventually thought, ‘whatever, I’ll do what I want,’ and moved on. End of the story.”
“Not really.” Berry looked up, resting her head between her hooves. I noticed that she had already finished that jumbo-sized, monstrous beer. “I’m afraid I gave up. I became what they thought I was. I didn’t even like alcohol.” She smiled. “I still don’t like it. But being drunk is nice. You might forget about everything. The good things, the bad things… Sometimes, that’s for the better. You stop being a filly who can’t understand her cutie mark, and become something else. Something that doesn’t need to think.”
Yeah, I also think that what she said there made absolutely no sense. Like, at all. But what can I say? She looked pretty sad. I’m a sucker for sad ponies. “You don’t need to forget.” Yes, that didn’t make sense either, but I can at least try to sound wisey now and then, can’t I? “Forgetting is not bad. Look at me: I kicked them all in the butt!”
She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”
“Yeah!” I smirked. “You see, getting a cutie mark and not knowing what it meant sucked a lot, but I soon realized that I didn’t need their…” I coughed. “Well. Pity, I guess? I was never a social pony myself. I grew up alone.”
Berry chuckled. “I know that feeling.”
“So I went ahead and moved on. Screw cutie marks, that’s my motto.” I pointed at the hourglass. “This? This means nothing. So I became a dentist because that’s a legitimate way to be mean to everypony.”
“How brave.”
“I know, right? Dentists are horrible. My favorite part is when you get the ponies on the chair, with a lot of stuff in their mouth, and then you start asking questions. ‘So, how are you? What do you do for a living?’ And then they struggle to answer you and you mess with their teeth. While they’re still trying to answer. Priceless.”
Berry laughed. Like, an honest-to-Celestia laugh. The bartender also laughed, and that scared the heck out of me, because where the heck had he been all this time, exactly? Spooky.
So anyway, yeah. What I told Berry was true. Growing up without a proper cutie mark sucks, and… Well. Stuff happens. I don’t see why I should explain anything in here. I got what Berry Punch was trying to say, that’s what I mean. She had had a hard life.
“When everypony expected the worst from me, I started to drink,” Berry said, “while you chose to fight back via fixing teeth. I admire you, Colgate.”
“Thanks!” In my glee, I took another sip of the gigabeer. Bad idea. “Oh, Celestia, this is horrible.”
“It is, if you have never tried it before.” Berry sighed. “But if you chose to fight back against life, why are you here? What forced you to come here, where the ones that are lost wander?”
I mentally translated that to “Why are you in Loser Town?” That offended me a little. I didn’t like being in Loser Town. Then again, I was in a blue cheese bar, talking with a mare that I had met for the first time forty minutes ago. That was pretty loser-ish, I guess. “Well… Stuff.”
“Stuff. Wonderful word.” Berry took my beer and drank some of it. I didn’t mind, truth be told. Drinking that thing was like licking a mixture between mud and cologne. And I know how mud and cologne taste, because when I was a foal I was stupid and had a lot of imagination. “Our entire lives are made up entirely out of ‘stuff’, Colgate. There’s nothing but ‘stuff’ out there.”
“Yes, well.” I licked my lips. Talking about this kind of thing still felt awkward, but come on, you would have done the same. I looked at the bartender. He was gone again. That guy was either a wizard or a ninja. Maybe both. A wizard ninja. With adherent hooves. “It’s… You know, I’m a dentist.”
“Yes.”
“But I’m not the only dentist in Canterlot. Not the only dentist in my clinic, either.” I shrugged. “Tonight was a guy’s birthday.”
“Oh.” Berry looked at me with a weird look. Like, pity or something. Or worry. I don’t know. I didn’t really like it, but I guess it was a nice thing? She kind of did a thing with her eyebrows. Like, they went all frowny, in a somewhat sad way, but it wasn’t exactly a sad gesture. Her mouth curved up in a half-smile.
“Yeah, thanks.” When in doubt, say that you’re sorry or that you’re thankful. That usually works.
“Thanks for what?” Okay, it rarely works, shut up. “So it was a friend’s birthday?”
“Well, he’s not a ‘friend’ exactly,” I said, frowning. “It’s just… I thought we were, I don’t know. Like, comrades or something? I thought we got along pretty well. I mean, I don’t have friends per se, but I said ‘hello’ and stuff. That’s gotta count.”
“It didn’t count, I guess.”
“Not really.”
“He didn’t invite you to the party?”
Gee, what had given her the clue? The fact that I was there, on my own, trying to drown my sorrows in a portable pool of beer, or the fact that I… Okay, there was no other fact to take in account. I just was there, trying to drown my sorrows in a portable pool of beer. Still, I’m sure that’s more than enough to jump at the right conclusion. “Yeah, he didn’t. So I came here.”
“Well, at least you had hopes.” Berry shrugged. “I’ve been pretty alone, all my life.”
I frowned at this. “What? You don’t seem like the lonely type.”
“Funny,” Berry said, smiling. “I believe I am exactly the lonely type, Colgate.”
“I can’t see how.” And hey, say whatever you want, I was right here. I mean, sure, Berry is weird, but she had been the one who started talking. The entire conversation was happening because she had chosen to speak to me out of the blue. If that’s not a social pony, I’m a piñata.
“I had never done this before. You’re the first pony I’ve talked to in a long time, bartenders aside,” she answered in what I swear to Celestia was the most casual tone I’d ever heard. Like, she even shrugged a little. You know how some ponies talk when they speak about the weather? That matter-of-facty voice? Exactly, that one. “You were special.”
“Uh. Eh… Thanks?” Yeah, I would like to see you trying to answer that. Easy, it’s not. I mean, I guess that was a compliment? “That’s… good?” Yeah, Colgate, you’re great at this whole talking thing. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t become a politician or something. I would have rocked the oratory world.
“I was thinking about life and death today, Colgate,” Berry continued. “And when I thought about solitude, you entered the bar.” She sighed. “And there you were, a mare walking into a bar, alone, on Friday. The first time she ever drinks alcohol. For a second, I thought that I might not be the most lonely pony in the world. I realized that I was forced to drink because of a certain heap of circumstances, but then again, some ponies are forced to drink without even having ‘Berry Punch’ as a name.”
She paused, and after three seconds I noticed she was waiting for me to say something insightful in return. “Uh-huh.” Nailed it.
Berry chuckled. “I noticed that, in my loneliness, I might not be so alone after all. And then I chose to change everything, the same moment you walked in here and smiled.”
“Yeah, my smile is pretty bright. Comes with being a dentist.”
“So I said my name.” Berry tapped the counter with her hoof. “And then I discovered that we have a lot in common. You don’t seem to believe in fate, but I do. So yes, I’ve been pretty alone all my life, Colgate. Until now.”
“Until now.”
“Well, I’ve met a pretty interesting mare tonight,” she said. “I’m sure we can be friends. Maybe we already are.” She got up from her seat and walked a few steps towards the door. Then she stopped and looked at me. “I’m going to my place. Do you want to come with me?”
I blinked twice. “Uh. To do what?”
“Talk about life, get to know each other, spend time together. But nothing else.” Berry swung her tail with energy, like a puppy when it’s happy. “I think I don’t need to drink anymore tonight.”
She turned around and walked towards the door. I looked at my humongous beer, then at the bartender—who had appeared out of nowhere yet again—and then at Berry. She was almost at the door now. Had I made a friend that night? I wasn’t sure. Berry Punch was weird, didn’t make any sense half of the time, and liked alcohol too much. Or maybe she didn’t like it at all. In fact, I thought, she probably hated it, for the same reason why she drank it all the time.
She also shared my thoughts over cutie marks being rubbish. And I believed she had lived through a pretty harsh life, although, truth be told, I hadn’t understood anything she had said about it. But I cared anyway.
So, yeah. I had made a friend that night. In an hour, more or less. And honestly? She was pretty cool!
“Wait!” I said, getting up and chasing her. “I’m coming!”
Author's Note
Despite what Berry Punch says, I personally enjoy whiskey. Jack Daniels tastes pretty good.
This fic takes place in the same universe as Long Story Short, Things Went Down.
