A Weird Life

The sun had only just disappeared below the horizon. Scott sat on top of a picnic table, just outside the Apple’s front door. He stared out over the expanse of Sweet Apple Acres, lost in thoughts of little to no importance. It was something he’d done even before he arrived. All his concerns, all his problems would gradually fade till they were little more than white noise.

The sound of heavy hoof-falls from behind ended Scott's reprieve. Looking back, he saw Mac trotting up with a foamy mug balanced on his back and another other on his head. Mac stopped beside Scott and gestured up to the mug on his head with a quick glance, then wiggled his brow. Scott chuckled with a small shake of his head and picked up the drink. Mac took his own mug and climbed up to sit next to Scott. The time ticked by as they drained their drinks in silence.

The sound of Applejack opening and shutting the door drew Big Mac’s attention. She had a nice polish to her hooves and her coat had been brushed out. Her mane and tail were thoroughly combed as well as sporting new, bright red hair ties. She had really cleaned up. Well, for her anyways. She had basically done what most mares considered the bare minimum for leaving the house. Most of the time, she ran a brush through her mane and tail, then called it a day.

“Ya headin’ out?” Mac asked.

“Yeah, Ah’m headin’ on over ta Twilight’s,” Applejack said, trotting up to the two. Scott stared back at her with a blank look before realization struck him.

“That’s right,” he said, drawing it out. “It’s that time of the month again. I forgot about that.”

“Yes sir, the girls and I are gonna kick back a few.” She looked around Scott at her brother. “Ya heading out too, Mac?”

“Eenope.”

“Ya sure? I heard ol’ Viny has thrown a little somethin’ together at the bar, an’ neither of us have ta worry ‘bout Applebloom, since she’s over at Scoot’s.”

“Eeyup,” Mac said. Scott looked over at the big pony, an eyebrow raised in slight suspicion.

“Well, okay then,” she said, sounding a little unsure. She was convinced Mac spent too much time on the farm, and it always bothered her when he chose to stay. Knowing what a dead end that argument was, however, she turned and trotted off at a casual pace for Ponyville. Scott and Big Mac watched her leave until she rounded the corner of the barn.

“You wouldn’t happen to be staying here because of me?” Scott asked, with a sideways glance.

“Ah know ya get a mite bored here,” Mac said.

“Aaaw. That’s so touching I think my dick moved.” Mac chuckled with a shake of his head, then worked on his drink. Scott tipped his mug back, letting the last of the cool liquid slide down his throat. “Seriously though, if you want to take off, don’t let me hold you back.”

“Ah’m good.”

“No you’re not.” Scott hopped off the table while Big Mac chuckled. “Come on. If you’re going to stay, I might as well teach you something.” He started for the house with Mac not far behind.

Upstairs, Mac stood in the center of Scott’s room while Scott dug around in his closet. The closet was filled with the various items he had arrived with, some of which were now scattered about his room. Opening a duffle bag, Scott was rewarded with a plastic baggy filled with four balls. He snatched up the bag and stumbled over things as he approached Mac.

“Behold, my glorious ball sack.” Scott snapped his arm out and held the bag out an inch from Mac’s face.

“Ping pong balls?” Mac tilted his head over to look around the bag at Scott.

“No. These are official beer pong, ping pong balls,” Scott said. He quickly decided to ignore the fact Mac knew what ping pong balls were.

“What makes ‘em official?”

“They cost three times as much.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re official,” Scott said, without an ounce of irony or sarcasm. Big Mac glanced at the bag and opened his mouth then paused before slowly closing it.

“Ya’re not good with money, are ya?” Big Mac splayed his ears out to the side.

“Never mind that.” Scott scampered out of the room like a kid at Christmas, while gesturing for Mac to follow. It’s not every day you get to teach aliens a drinking game. “We got beer pong to play.”

Above the rooftops of Ponyville, the pegasus pony Thunderlane glided lazily along  to Lucky’s. His light blue and white mohawk bristled in the wind. Glancing down at a three-way intersection to check his bearings, he spied an orange-ish-yellow earth pony looking around. He rolled his eyes at Caramel’s sense of direction... or lack thereof, rather. Caramel was the James May of ponies in terms of navigation: the poor guy could get lost in a studio apartment. Banking around, Thunderlane began a corkscrew holding pattern, much like a vulture would.

“Get lost again, dude?” he asked. Caramel looked up and was barely able to make out his gun-metal friend against the night sky.

“Heh, yeah.” Caramel rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve never gone to Lucky’s from the eastside of town.”

“No problem, bro.” Thunderlane glided up alongside his friend. With a snap of his wings, he brought himself to a stall and dropped the short distance to the ground. The two continued on their way with Thunderlane leading. It wasn’t long before they arrived at a three-story thatched house that was indistinct from those around it.

They climbed the outside stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door. Thunderlane and Caramel could hear the clopping of Lucky’s hooves through the door as he approached. The door swung open to reveal a bluish-grey earth pony.

“Hey, guys,” Lucky said. He stepped off to the side to let them in.

“S’up, bra?” Thunderlane asked, as Caramel and he trotted in.

It was an atypical bachelor pad in that it had a homey décor. The furniture all matched and a few paintings hung on the walls here and there. Fake plants dressed up the room’s corners. It was all pre-furnished, though, as evidenced by the general cleanliness, Lucky took pride in it nonetheless.

“You ready to go, Lucky bro? Cause this is going to be sweet!” Thunderlane plopped down onto the couch. “There are gonna be so many fine mares there.”

“I just don’t want to go home alone,” Caramel looked to the side with a grimace. “Again.”

“Hey, don’t worry, Mel, maybe my luck will rub off on you,” Lucky said. Caramel gave Lucky a flat look.

“Eeew. You better not do that in public, bro. You’ll get arrested,” Thunderlane said. Caramel threw his head back and laughed. Performing the pony equivalent of the middle finger, Lucky rubbed his hoof against his chin toward Thunderlane. Thunderlane made a kissy-face in return. Lucky rolled his eyes and headed  for his bathroom.

“Anyways, I gotta finish getting ready,”Lucky said.

“Aw, dude. You’re worse than a chick, bro.”

“Don’t hate,” Lucky said, as he passed through the doorway. “I got to look my best if I feel like getting…”

“Don’t say it.” Caramel facehoofed.

Lucky poked his head into the doorway. “Lucky.” Thunderlane and Caramel groaned. Lucky laughed as he disappeared out of the doorway.

“No more, please,” Thunderlane whined.

“You better be glad Mac’s not here to hear these puns,” Caramel said.

“Dude, where is Mac?” Thunderlane asked.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” Caramel said.

“Aw, really?”

Caramel nodded. “I asked him a couple days ago and he said he was just going to stay home.”

“Why?” Lucky asked, stepping into the room. He frowned when Caramel could only shrug in response. “Vinyl Scratch is going to be playing here as DJ PON-3— for free— and he couldn’t give you a reason?” His frown deepened when Caramel nodded. “Over my fuzzy, grey balls. Come on guys, he’s going if we gotta drag him all the way there from the farm.”

Lucky trotted out of his apartment with a determined scowl. Thunderlane and Caramel shared a look before Thunderlane shrugged. Snapping his wings out, Thunderlane took flight after Lucky, with Caramel cantering out the door right behind him.

At Twilight’s tree house, the girls were all trying decide what they were going to do that evening. It had been decided beforehand that they would simply kick back at Twilight’s. That, however, was before Vinyl Scratch had announced she was going to play for the town. No one had checked with each other to see if plans would change. So now there was an argument.

Rainbow Dash wanted to go out to dance as well as maybe get some action, and Pinkie Pie wanted to go out to support her close friend Vinyl. Twilight wanted to stick to the plan and Rarity wanted to stay in. Applejack honestly didn’t care as long as there was booze and Fluttershy was too easygoing to really have an opinion.

“We should pre-game!” Pinkie Pie sprang up off the ground with an ecstatic grin. Her friends all glanced at each other in confusion.

“Pre-game, Pinkie?” Twilight asked.

“Pre-game is where you drink at home some before you go out, so you don’t spend as much,” Pinkie said. “This way, we get to stay in and go out.”

“Pinkie, where did you get an idea like that?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Scott told me.”

“Well given how much he can drink, I can see where such an idea would hold some merit,” Rarity said.

“He says he’s not even a heavy drinker where he’s from, if ya can believe that,” Applejack said.

“Do we have to talk about— him?” Rainbow Dash scrunched up her muzzle in distaste.

“Aw, come on, Dashie.” Pinkie hopped over and gave Dash a light squeeze. “You can’t hold what happened against him forever.”

“I can try.” Dash folded her forelegs across her chest. “I still say we should lock that fuu—.” Rainbow Dash reeled herself in when she remembered who was around. She glanced over at Fluttershy, who was looking back with a stern (for her anyways) expression. “Uh, sorry, Shy.”

“That’s okay. You caught yourself and that’s what is important.” Fluttershy smiled back with closed eyes, missing Dash roll hers.

“Not this again,” Applejack said. “He’s a little ornery maybe, but Ah keep telling ya he’s harmless.”

“Oooh, Applejack thinks he’s harmless, what a surprise,” Rainbow Dash mocked.

“So it’s agreed that we will— pre-game— as Pinkie put it?” Rarity interrupted before Applejack could open her mouth. Twilight shot Rarity an appreciative smile, and Rarity winked back.

With a chorus of general agreement the girl’s spirits lifted. Pinkie started up a record player, and the sounds of upbeat pop filled the room. Twilight floated over glasses and booze to the others, beginning their night of debauchery.

The country music stylings of the Southern Drawl Brothers played in the background as Big Mac and Scott played beer pong. The Equestrian and American stood at opposite ends of a table with groups of cups in front of them. Mac’s cups didn’t have as much as Scott’s half-full ones; a handicap they both agreed to on account of humanity’s better alcohol tolerance. Still though, Big Mac was having a blast playing the simple game. The fact he had beat Scott at his own game a couple of times wasn’t hurting.

Big Mac tossed a little ball at Scott’s group of cups. The ball went deep, completely missing the back of the table.

“So who’s this Vinyl Scratch your sister mentioned?” Scott asked. He walked over to the ball after it came to rest against the wall.

“She’s a local DJ tha’ went on ta be sum’ big-wig music artist and goes by DJ PON-3,” Mac said.

“What does she play?”

“Wubstep? Dropstep?”

“Is it dubstep?” Scott smirked at Mac trying to remember the name of something he obviously did not care for. Mac jabbed his hoof at Scott while furiously nodding his head. “What’s the matter Mac-y, don’t like the dubstep?”

Mac scowled with a dismissive snort. Tossing his second ball, it went wide, completely missing the table. Scott snapped his hand out, grabbing the ball on its first bounce.

“Like the crap you listen to is any better.” Scott tossed his ball, which bounced off the edge of a cup. He looked over at the record player with narrowed eyes. He couldn’t be sure if it was a song about old dogs and loose women, or old women and loose dogs.

“Wha’s wrong with the Southern Drawl Brothers?”

“Other than the fact the vocals have got more ‘wang’ in them than a gay pride parade, not much I suppose.” Scott’s second ball landed dead center in one of Mac’s cups. “Drink up.”

Mac grimaced as he reached out for the cup. It took some effort for Mac to finish his drink. With a couple games down, it was starting to feel more like work than fun. He may have won the two previous games, but they were still pyrrhic victories at best, with only one or two cups left at the end. To make matters worse, Scott was smoking him this round.

“Yeah, it’s more fun with two-man teams. You can divide up the drinks,” Scott said. As if the universe heard and decided to alleviate that problem, the sound of someone entering the front door interrupted the game.

“Applejack back already?” Scott asked.

“Must be,” Mac said. “Wonder why?”

“Hey, Big Mac, you in here?” Mac and Scott froze with wide eyes at the sound of clearly-not-Applejack’s voice. Before either of them could react, Caramel, Thunderlane, and Lucky entered the room. The three newcomers paused in the doorway and stared at the scene before them with blank faces. Scott and Big Mac stared back, looking like deer caught in the headlights. An uncomfortable silence descended on the room as no one moved a muscle.

“What’s going on here, Mac?” Lucky asked. Big Mac and Scott shared an uneasy look.

“This here’s Scott. He’s, uh, visitin’ from… out of town,” Mac said. Scott gave a small wave to the newcomers. He raised an eyebrow when Thunderlane goofily waved back. “Scott, this is Lucky, Thunderlane, and Caramel Apple, friends o’ mine.” Big Mac pointed to each pony in turn.

Scott picked up on the name Apple. “Must be related,” he thought.

Thunderlane walked straight up to Scott without hesitation. He stared up at Scott, his eyes wide and his mouth pursed, with unrestrained curiosity. He tilted his head while one of his ears flopped to the side. “What are you, dude?”

“Human.” Scott glanced over at Big Mac for help and guidance. Big Mac didn’t notice as he was too busy watching with bated breath for Thunderlane’s reaction.

“A hue-mun, hunh?” Thunderlane said, rolling the sound over. “Neat.” He stepped back and dropped to his haunches by the side of the table.

With that single word, the tension in the room lifted. Caramel left to take a leak, and Lucky trotted up next to Thunderlane. Big Mac visibly deflated; he knew his friends well enough to know that if something didn’t trip their alarm bells in the first minute, it never would. Scott, however, did not know this. Their accepting attitude was causing more than its fair share of confusion for him.

Coming from a world where humans are the only intelligent species, it was easy for Scott to take for granted that he would be labeled an alien on sight. In a world where intelligent species are a dime-a-dozen, it was fairly easy to be simply overlooked as an unknown race. The Apples and the Bearers had been convinced he was telling the truth, by a combination of their trusting nature and the things he had. Even then, it hadn’t been enough to convince all of them. To Big Mac’s friends it was weirder to see Big Mac hanging out with someone than it was to see Scott.

“How do you know him?” Lucky asked Mac.

“I was passing by and helped Mac here with a busted wagon. So he’s letting me stay a few days.” Though the situation may have been causing a few cylinders to misfire in Scott’s brain, he was still able to rattle off a pretty decent cover story. The story seemed to satisfy Lucky.

“What are you two doing?” Lucky asked.

“This is a drinkin’ game Scott here was jus’ showing me,” Big Mac said. He smirked when Lucky’s and Thunderlane’s ears perked up. “Ya want ta show ‘em, Scott?”

The two ponies swiveled their heads a little faster than needed over to Scott. Scott didn’t know what Big Mac was getting at, figuring the game would likely encourage them to stay, but decided to play along. Caramel trotted up while Scott went over the rules and play of the game, keeping it short and sweet.

While the newcomers got in the groove of the game, Scott caught Big Mac’s attention. He gestured with a tilt of his head and a glance of the eyes toward the kitchen. Big Mac nodded and followed him. In the kitchen, Scott peeked through the doorway to check the others. Seeing that they were good, he leaned over to Big Mac.

“Get them the fuck out of here!” Scott whispered through clenched teeth.

“Ah’m trying ta keep ‘em here; they’ll tell everypony ya’re here,” Big Mac whispered.

“Well, how long do you think you can do that?”

“Not long,” Mac said. “Ah was gonna go get AJ an’ Twilight.”

“You are not leaving me here alone with them. And that will take a while, even if you can find them.”

Mac tipped his chin in thought. “We’ll git’em drunk.” He startled Scott a little when he suddenly smacked his hoof against the ground with a clop.

“What.”

“Hear me out. Y’all can handle yer drink better than we can, so ya’ll be able to drink wit us and not look suspicious. We all git liquored up and then they pass out. Ya’ll’ll be sober ‘nough ta keep ‘em here ‘til they do,” Mac said. “They’ll probably forget the whole thing in the morning.”

Scott blinked. “Mac, that’s retarded, not to mention that plan sounds rape-y as hell.”

“Ya got anything better?”

“Fuck it.” Scott turned and started walking for the living room. “All I gotta do is not get too drunk.”

Scott slammed down his finished mug of hard cider on the table with a clack. With a flick of his wrist, the mug went sliding across the table he was sitting at. The mug came to rest among the veritable chess board of its empty brethren.

“Dude,” Thunderlane said. “You’re a machine.”

“That’s what your mom said,” Scott said. He raised an eyebrow when Caramel snickered behind his hoof. “What’re you laughing about? Your mom was there, too.”

“Nice.” Thunderlane held out his hoof for a hoofbump. It took Scott a couple tries, but he managed to fistbump the hoof. Well, more like glanced off the side.

It was the thought that counted.

“I tell ya, Mac,” Lucky said. A slight, but unmistakable, slur in his speech. He was staring at a group picture of the Elements of Harmony. “Your sister’s friends are so hot; I don’t know how you aren’t a father yet.”

“Are they really?” Scott asked.

“Dude, dude, duuude.” Thunderlane leaned toward Scott more and more. He tipped over onto his chest with a muffled thump, leaving his flank sticking up in the air. “So fine.”

“Oh, that’s pretty.” Scott pushed Thunderlane over with his foot, sparing the group from the awful sight.

“Well I think it’s about time to hit the old dusty trail, down to the old Rusty bar,” Lucky said.

“The hell was that?” Big Mac asked. “Why’d ya say it all weird?”

“I’m practicing rhymes to impress that zebra mare.” Lucky held his chin up with pride. “What d’ya think?”

“Ah think ya better get used ta using yer hoof for a while,” Mac said. Scott and Caramel burst out laughing while Lucky scowled at Big Mac.

“You should totally come with us!” Thunderlane said.

“I’m down,” Scott said without hesitation. Big Mac’s friends all let out a small cheer.

A supreme sense of dread welled up in Big Mac. He tried to remember through the intoxicated fog of his mind why this was bad. His face gradually changed to dawning horror as he remembered.

“Hold up!” They all turned toward Mac with perplexed looks. Mac weaved on unsteady legs over to a table with a half-full mug. He lifted up the flagon and chugged, some of the booze escaping the corners of his mouth, until it was empty. He turned back to the group with a dopey smile. “Almost wasted cider.”

Scott had seen glimpses of Ponyville before, usually while he snuck from a wagon to a house or a peek from a window. He had never had the opportunity to really admire the quaintness of the little town. Thatched roof buildings had been built without a care in the world to civil engineering and city planning. Side streets and alleys would snake and twist as a result, then suddenly empty out into open common areas that were dotted with buildings. Flowery vines draped from the underside of skyways, which were surprising in number, like green waterfalls. Unfortunately, Scott would continue to be unable to really admire the quaintness. He was so wasted he could barely remember his own name, let alone take in the sights.

Their little band rounded a corner to see a throng of Equestrians congregated out front of the Rusty Horseshoe bar, known as the Rusty for short. The number of Equestrians steadily increased as they neared the building. Some were couples, while others were double dates. Most were groups like theirs, just friends and co-workers looking to have a good time. Scott was drawing more than a few odd looks. The Equestrians nudged others in their group, followed by pointing and hushed conversations. It never went beyond that and not for very long.

With Lucky in the lead, they weaved their way through the crowd to the door. The sound of techno beats and bass drops blared from speakers that sat in open windows. Everyone they passed was doing their best to talk over the music and the other conversations, adding to the noise.

The large, pale-yellow unicorn stallion, Digit Cruncher, focused on Scott as the group neared the door. Scott eyed the pony back, who looked like a turn-of-the-century pugilist: handlebar mustache, rolled sleeves, and suspenders over a white button shirt that strained to contain the muscles underneath. All in all, he looked like one magnificent bastard.

“Who is this now?” Cruncher asked. His voice loud and hammy.

“Cruncher!” Thunderlane yelled as he shoved Lucky off to the side. Lucky cried out as he flailed through the air, landing in some shrubbery. “Dude, what’re- what’re you doing here?”

Cruncher let out a boisterous laugh at Thunderlane’s youthful peep. “Had a bit to drink already, I see.” Cruncher slapped Thunderlane on the back, nearly causing his legs to buckle. “I’m helping Miss Punch keep things in order. That boss of hers is too cheap to hire security. So with that in mind…” He turned his attention over to Scott with a meaningful look. “I know a scrapper when I see one, and he looks like a scrapper.”

Scott hadn’t heard a word. He was much too busy snickering with Caramel at Lucky to pay attention. Lucky’s bushy prison shook violently from his struggle to free himself, accompanied by muffled swears emanating from its depths.

“Aw no way, dude, he’s cool. Jus’ ask Mac,” Thunderlane said.

“Eeyup.”

With a yelp, Lucky fell out of the accursed bush in a heap, leaves and a twig stuck out of his mane and tail. Picking himself up, he trotted up and shoved his face into Thunderlane’s, glaring at him the whole time.

“What?” Thunderlane asked.

Cruncher chuckled. “Well I suppose if Mac says he’s all right, he can’t be all bad.” Cruncher waved the group inside.

Inside, the building had a passing similarity to an old-western-style saloon. It had an open floor with a ceiling two stories high and stairs that lead up to a walkway overlooking the floor. It was all too modern-feeling and polished to be a saloon, though. The large size, along with little touches like ambient lighting and the tiled area around the bar area, helped this distinction as well.

While a tall ceiling on Earth lacked any real function other than temperature control, here it could be used by pegasi. Pegasus ponies didn’t so much dance as flow. They twisted and roped gracefully through the air like seals in water. Couples playfully chased each other in figure-eights then, holding hooves, spun off into double-helixes. It was movement in three dimensions set to music. Even in Scott’s drunken stupor, he was awestruck by the sight.

Having arrived at the Rusty, the girls took seats at a table Rarity had used her ladylike charms, to weasel a group of stallions out of. Applejack left to place an order for a round of drinks. At the same time, Pinkie took off for the stage.

Pinkie trotted over to the small stage in the back. A white unicorn wearing pink shaded sunglasses stood behind a blue turntable with large speakers on its sides. She held the single speaker of a headphone to her ear, the rest of the device jiggling in the air as she bobbed her head.

“V-dubs!” Pinkie Pie hopped up on the stage.

“P-funk!” Vinyl Scratch shouted.

Before Pinkie had known the other Bearers, she had known Vinyl Scratch. Back when Pinkie Pie moved to Ponyville, the first place she visited was Vinyl’s record store. Being self-proclaimed party animals, the two hit it off immediately.

“What’ve you been up to, girl?” Vinyl asked after a hug.

“Meh, you know me: throwing parties and making friends with chaos gods.” She shrugged. “But enough about me. Vinyl, it’s so neat-o that you did this for Ponyville.”

“Aw, I was in the area.” A faint blush came to her cheeks. If Pinkie noticed, she didn’t say. The two made small talk, catching up as old friends are inclined to do. It didn’t take long for the conversation to steer back to the party.

“Anything exciting happen yet?” Pinkie asked.

“Not really, but earlier this guy I’ve never seen before gets up on the dance floor and, well, it was awesome,” Vinyl said.

“He was that good?”

“Oh, hell no, he sucked.” She laughed at the memory of the tall human dry-humping air and what could best be described as practicing limbo while chugging beer. “Funniest thing I’ve seen in, like, a while.”

“Wait, so there’s a new pony in town?” Pinkie searched about with growing excitement.

“He’s not a pony. I’ve played everywhere, and I’ve never seen anything like him,” Vinyl said.

That caught Pinkie’s attention, and not in a good way. Vinyl wasn’t exaggerating that, short of the badlands and unexplored areas, she had played across the globe. Pinkie knew if Vinyl hadn’t seen anything like him, then no one had.

“You wouldn’t be able to point him out, would you?” Pinkie asked. Vinyl noticed Pinkie had become uneasy.

“Uh, sure. He’s…” Vinyl lifted her glasses and squinted as she searched the crowd. “There he is.”

Pinkie followed where Vinyl’s hoof pointed behind herself. Her heart started beating faster and faster as she turned her head with a growing internal cringe. It didn’t take her long to spot Scott seated at a table with a mare hanging off his arm. She whipped her head back to Vinyl with an awkward smile. “Oh, shi-ha ha. He’s weird all right.” She stammered a bit. “Yup, better go make friends— or something.”

Before Vinyl could ask what was going on, Pinkie shot off, leaving a pink dust cloud in the shape of a pony. The cloud gradually dispersed, leaving a thoroughly confused Vinyl. On Pinkie’s rush back to the girls, she ran across Applejack chatting up a stallion.

“—okay at the rodeo. But Ah ain’t rode a bull yet tha’ can throw me off,” Applejack said. She canted her head to the side over half-lid eyes. The stallion brightened with a stupid grin.

“Applejack! We got a big problem,” Pinkie said. “And I don’t mean your terrible innuendo.”

“Pinkie!” Applejack said. “Uh, what’s wrong?”

“Scott is here!” Applejack paused, staring blankly at the panicking pink pony mere inches from her face. Applejack began chuckling, much to Pinkie’s annoyance.

“Who-wee, Pinkie, that’s a good one. Ya had me goin’ for a sec.” Applejack began to turn back to the stallion until Pinkie grabbed her by the barrel with both forehooves. She hoisted the workhorse into the air, turning her in the direction of Scott. “Hey! What are ya… doing…” Applejack’s jaw and legs went slack. There are very few things more sobering than seeing the alien you’re hiding sitting in a crowded bar. She didn’t even realize she was moving when Pinkie placed her back down.

“See!” Pinkie said.

“Go get Twilight an’ the others,” she said. The determination in her voice matched the expression on her face. Pinkie snapped to attention and returned a flawless salute before bolting off through the crowd.

Applejack might have chuckled at her friend’s strangeness, but right now she had bigger fish to fry. And by bigger fish, she meant Scott. And by fry that meant, well, actually that wasn’t a euphemism. With the ponies noticing her quickly averting their eyes and moving out of the way, it took her no time to reach Scott.

“Scott! What in tarnation are ya doing here!” she demanded. Her irritation raising as Scott stared at her with a blank expression for entirely too long.

“Applejack!” Scott exclaimed happily. He threw his arms out wide, sending the skanky mare on his arm tumbling.

Applejack whinnied in surprise when he wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her halfway up onto his lap with a hug.

“Applejack. Applejack? Hey, Applejack.”

“How drunk are ya right now?”

“I love-s you, man,” he said. With a horse-like snort, she looked out with a flat expression. “Hey, guys, look who- look who decided to

show.” Scott grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her up to stand on her hindhooves.

Applejack turned her attention to the others seated around the table for the first time. Carmel was passed out, drooling on the table with his tongue hanging out. Lucky was having trouble staying balanced in his chair. He sat there with a stupid grin on his face, both eyelids refusing to blink in sync. Thunderlane and Big Mac were at least coherent. Thunderlane was talking trash about someone with Big Mac; about whom, nobody knew, and it was obvious neither did they. Applejack dragged her hoof down her face with a groan. Behind her, Twilight and the other girls ran up, sliding to a stop.

“Scott! What are you doing here? What’s going on?” Twilight rattled off quickly in a panic.

“Princess Pony! My favorite- my favorite- my favorite… What are we talking about?”

Twilight blinked. “Are you drunk?”

“Nooo joke!”

“Fantastic,” Twilight deadpanned.

“We need ta git ‘im outta here.” Applejack started pulling on one of his arms, trying to coax him onto his feet.

“Hey, back off!” The mare Scott had been with shoved her way between Applejack and Scott.  “Like, go find your own stallion.”

“Pardon?” Applejack scrunched up her muzzle at the smell of booze, cheap perfume, and Juicy Gum that the intoxicated mare never stopped chewing. Scott scowled at the back of this random stranger’s head. He had already forgotten that moments ago the mare had been wrapped around his arm.

“I’m not letting some inbred hick show me up.” The skank reared up and lifted a hoof back.

Scott was having none of this ‘punching Applejack in the face’ nonsense. He reached out and casually, with the force one might use to move curtains, pushed the her to the side. It was enough to overpower her already at-its-limit sense of balance.

The skank was so wasted, she didn’t even try to catch herself as she fell into a nearby stallion. Ponies fell into others like an expanding wave of dominoes in the tightly packed bar. Everyone jumped back to their hooves in less than agreeable moods. By now everything had stopped and the music had cut off. The party atmosphere was gone, consumed by an overriding air of combativeness that had spread like wildfire. Everypony stood silent and tense, eyeing each other, waiting to see who would make the first move.

Berry Punch held a soda fizz dispenser, ready to defend the bar area with her last breath. It was the only area she would actually have to clean if things got messy. Digit Cruncher had been moving to break up the fight. The mountain of muscles stopped however, when he realized a few stallions were eyeing him. A sure downside to being ripped was that there was never a shortage of drunks and half-wits eager to claim bragging rights and test their mettle against you.

The girls were all torn between being thankful he had helped Applejack out and frustrated that, if he hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have had to. The fact he was patting his pockets down, mumbling about someone having his nonexistent keys, wasn’t helping his case.

Vinyl Scratch had ducked down and was peeking over her turntable. She was practically buzzing with excitement, as she magically held the needle over a record ambiguously titled ‘Fight Music’. Vinyl Scratch frowned when the tension in the air began to fade. Ponies all started slowly relaxing their muscles and adopting more neutral postures.

“Aaah—,” Shattering the silence, the mare seemed to come out of nowhere at Applejack. “—bitch!” Her hoof connected with Applejack’s face, sending the farmer reeling. Vinyl dropped the needle, and all hell broke loose.

It was a battle royale, with ponies beating up and tossing others everywhere. The whole area filled with the sounds of mayhem: the fast-tempo metal playing over the speakers, hooves smacking against skulls, the occasional wood snapping from splintering chairs and tables. Vinyl Scratch cheered as she jumped from the stage into a flying-elbow drop on some poor soul.

“Ya better run, ya little bitch!” Applejack charged after the skank, who had turned tail and now sported a black eye. The two of them disappeared into the crowd.

Scott immediately got into the thick of it all, Big Mac and Thunderlane following his example. The amount of alcohol in their systems numbed their sense of pain. While their experience with being plastered, left them still able to fight. The trio were a force unmatched as they cut a swath through the drunken melee.

That is, until someone threw a hapless stallion into Scott, sending the two sliding off across the floor. Thunderlane and Big Mac rounded on the offender, but their confidence faltered when they realized that challenger was Digit Cruncher. Every hoof-fall seemed heavier than the last to the farmer and the flyer as the unicorn strolled up to them. They had been on the receiving end of Cruncher’s hooves enough to know how much of a beast he could be. On the other hoof, it had been awhile since they had tried to beat him in a fight. With grim determination, Big Mac and Thunderlane nodded to one another.

“Ha ha! That’s the spirit!” Cruncher rolled his shoulders then reared up. “Now, have at thee!”

The girls were actually being left alone at the start of it all. With Scott taking off along with Applejack before they could stop him, they decided to use their apparent immunity to get Fluttershy out. Once they were a few buildings away, Rarity opted to stay with Fluttershy, leaving Twilight, Pinkie, and Rainbow Dash to go back and try to find Scott and Applejack. That immunity appeared to have run out on their return, however. The Equestrians that had wanted no part in fighting had cleared out, leaving nothing but the brawlers. Outside the Rusty was just as much of a fracas as the inside. The girls had to fight for every inch of ground to get inside.

A unicorn mare jumped from a table at them only to be caught mid air by Dash. With a tight loop, Dash threw the mare whence she came. Meanwhile, Twilight was magically floating a mare along with a stallion and ramming them against each other. Satisfied she’d effectively knocked the stupid out of them, she dropped them to the ground.

“Dash! Go inside and see if you can get Applejack and Scott,” Twilight said. Rainbow nodded and zipped off into the Rusty.

An earth pony mare dropped from a table next to Pinkie. Pinkie reached into her hair and pulled out a party horn. The mare charged, only for Pinkie to blow on the novelty toy, which unwound and smacked the mare on the nose. The mare stepped back and blinked rapidly while wiggling her nose. She tried again, and again Pinkie simply blew on the toy. After rubbing her nose, the mare glared in frustration, while Pinkie smiled back, oblivious. Pinkie blew on the toy a third time as they stood there.

“Hey! Take this seriously,” the mare said.

Pinkie shrugged. “Okie-dokie.” She hopped toward the mare, spun around, and bucked her in the chest. The mare grunted out as she flew back and collided with a table. Pinkie noticed Twilight’s confused expression. “What? Did you think I was just going to pull my party cannon out of nowhere?”

“Well…”

“Because that would’ve ruined the surprise for the next pony!” Pinkie reached behind a knocked-over table and yanked out her glittery cannon. She leveled the muzzle at an approaching stallion. With a smack of her cannon, the stallion disappeared in a blast of glitter and streamers.

“Where is he?” Rainbow Dash was on a mission. She was not about to pass up this opportunity to even the score with Scott. Up above the melee, she spun clockwise and then counter. She grinned when she spotted him.

“Hey, fuckhead!” she yelled. She dropped low and flew right above the crowd’s heads at his chest. Scott snapped his head in her direction and started trying to back away.

Scott grabbed her forelegs as she collided with him, and rolled onto his back. Placing both feet on her barrel, he continued to roll and braced his hands on the ground. Using her momentum, he uncurled his entire body like a spring, launching Dash through the air.

Berry Punch dove off to the side as Dash sailed over the bar upside-down. She gritted her teeth when her back slammed into the bar-back. The bottles and shelves at the point of impact were pulverized with a tremendous shattering of glass and splintering wood. Dash dropped to the ground, the broken shelves tilting after her. All the bottles slid down the shelves in a rush and dropped right on top of Dash.

Back on his feet, Scott stared at the smashed bar-back, completely dumbstruck at what he had just pulled off. He blinked as he sluggishly turned to walk off. Whatever hope he had that it was over was ruined by a roar of unbridled frustration and rage from behind the bar. Scott barely had time to spin around and bring his fists up.

Even the racket of the bar fight couldn’t stifle the loud crack, like that of a great oak being snapped in half, as Rainbow Dash burst up through the bar countertop. Scott jerked his arm up to shield his face from the splinters and pieces of wood whizzing through the air. He peeked over his arms to take stock of how boned he was.

Rainbow Dash straddled the gaping hole with her head held low while breathing heavily. Her feral snarl really accented the murderous glint in her eyes. Scott decided right there that he was in fact, boned.

“Look, no reason to get all murder-y. It was totally an accident that I threw you,” Scott said. Dash’s eye twitched at the implication it was that easy for him to beat her. “Okay, in immediate hindsight I realize I just made it worse.”

Rainbow Dash and Scott had forgotten one of the most important rules of a bar fight: always mind your surroundings. Unfortunately for Rainbow Dash, she would pay the price. Berry Punch launched herself up and blindsided Dash with a flying tackle. The two hit the ground and went rolling off across the floor. Scott heaved a sigh of relief as he watched them disappear into the fray. “Oh, thank you, Jesus.”

Someone calling out his name drew Scott’s attention off to the side. He looked over to see Big Mac looking back at him pleadingly. Cruncher’s tree trunk of a foreleg was wrapped around Mac’s neck and foreleg, pinning the leg against his head. Despite the fact that it looked like Big Mac and Thunderlane had giving him a beating, Cruncher was still laughing and spouting one-liners as he boxed with a hovering Thunderlane, who could barely keep up.

Scott was interrupted from his internal debate about how much he liked Big Mac by a tap on his shoulder.

“Come on, show me what you got,” Vinyl said. Her shades gone, she stood on her hindhooves, pumping her hooves in little circles in a loose boxing stance. Scott shrugged, then hurled his right fist at her. Vinyl rolled to the outside of his punch and clocked him in the cheek, staggering him back. He stood and stared in confusion at the little unicorn bouncing lightly on her hindhooves. Vinyl smirked at him and wiggled her brow. With a grin, Scott went back at her.

To the untrained eye, they might have looked as if they had trained to fight. And to some degree, they had: Vinyl had spent time in a few fighting leagues, and Scott had his military training. To someone who had even a passing knowledge, they were amateurs. She had never been formally trained, and she actually had some bad habits. Scott’s training, meanwhile, had drilled the concept that fighting was less about winning, than it was about surviving long enough for your buddies to show up.

It wasn’t long before Scott could tell she was getting tired, but honestly, so was he. He just wasn’t into the fight anymore, and wanted it over. Scott seized her forehooves and planted his leg behind her back hooves. Pushing her over, they both fell to the floor with a flop. He rose up into a mount, and swung an arm back for one final, half-hearted strike. He paused, his stomach dropping when he noticed her horn glowing blue. A flying table covered in the same blue glow slammed into the side of Scott. The human rolled across the floor until he came to a rest by the front door.

Scott couldn’t be sure if the room was spinning from the blow he had suffered or the beer in his system. A dull throbbing emanated from his face and knuckles, and he was pretty sure he could taste something metallic-y. Scott was not looking forward to being sober. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, content to just lay there. When suddenly: unicorn face.

“You okay, guy?” Vinyl asked. Her face was ragged, sporting a couple bruises along with a trail of blood from her nose.

“Please don’t hit me anymore,” he said. Vinyl returned a small smile and reached out with a hoof. Glancing at the offered hoof, he gripped it and pulled himself to his feet with her help. The two of them turned their attention to outside the front door when they heard a whistle.

No longer fighting, Equestrians outside were running in every direction in a panic. What had garnered Scott’s and Vinyl’s focus though were the policeponies wearing blue shirts and black belts lined with pouches around their waist. Octagonal captain hats sat atop their heads, while some wore black baseball caps.

“Oh. Shit,” Scott mumbled, just loud enough for Vinyl to hear. All the violence and running around had gradually eaten away at his buzz. The sight of those black and blues finally sobered him up, his buzz crashing like a house of cards. He was now acutely aware of where he was at that moment, along with how truly boned he was. “Twilight and Applejack are going to kill me.”

Scott jumped back when Vinyl grabbed the door and slammed it shut. At the same time, she levitated over a chair, then wedged it under the doorknob.

“Everypony! Stop!” Vinyl hollered at the top of her lungs.

The entire room ground to an absolute standstill. Ponies halted mid-punch or kick. Others had stopped grappling on the floor in a tangle of limbs. The only sound was the static and rhythmic skip at the end of a vinyl record. One stallion was biting the leg of a mare sitting on his back twisting his hindhoof, while Rainbow Dash stood over them with a chair raised above her head. Applejack had Cruncher in a headlock as he grappled with Mac and sat on Thunderlane. Scott and Vinyl edged back defensively as everyone stared back at the two, unblinking. Being the complete focus of a sea of large eyes was kind of creepy.

Scott bumped Vinyl with an elbow. “Oh, uh, right… The cops! Cheese it!”

For the second time that night, the room exploded into motion. Panicking Equestrians ran every which way in confusion. Ponies that had had somepony pinned to the ground were now helping that somepony up. Pegasus ponies were trying to fly out through the skylights. The more intoxicated of their numbers, like Thunderlane, were having a bit of trouble. One of the more successful pegasi left a rainbow color trail in her wake.

“Scott! We gotta git ya out of here!” Applejack slid to a stop next to him, with Big Mac not far behind. The last thing they wanted to deal with was cops. Cops liked asking petty questions like: ‘Where are your immigration papers?’ and ‘How’d you get in the country?’.

“There’s a backdoor, it’s where I brought my stuff in,”  Vinyl said.

The four of them rushed off, weaving and dodging through the torrent of equines for the back. There, they discovered they were not the only ones to figure on a backdoor. A small, tightly packed crowd was congregated in front of a hall that lead out the rear. Vinyl spotted Pinkie Pie hopping in place behind the mob, trying to see the exit.

“Pinkie, what’s going on? Why aren’t these ponies moving?” Vinyl asked.

“I think the backs blocked off with cops,” Pinkie said. “Where’s Twilight and Rainbow Dash?”

“Ah saw Dash tear ass through the ceilin’,” Applejack said.

“Is there any other way out that’d avoid the cops?” Scott asked. He didn’t like the thought of deserting anyone, but he just really didn’t see any other choice.

The Equestrians were starting to get their act together by now and stop panicking, with most taking their chances with the front door. The sound of breaking glass signified that windows had also become a valid exit. So the phrase ‘getting their act together’ may have been relative.

“Maybe we can get out through the second floor,” Pinkie said. She was referring to the skyways that seemed to litter the town, though she didn’t know if the Rusty Horseshoe had one. It was the only thing that came to mind which might allow them to completely avoid the police.

The growing group sprinted over to and up the stairs to the walkway. Scott stopped at a set of double doors. While the ponies kept moving on to check the rest, he threw them open to be greeted by a large office: more than likely the owner’s, if the opulence was anything to go by. The only thing he noticed was the tall paneled window across the room. The two halves opened like French doors and faced a similar window across the alley. Quickly leaving the room behind, he returned to the walkway to see if anyone else had had better luck.

“Well?” Scott asked, coming to a stop next to a hall table.

“No good,” Big Mac said.

“Scott!?”Twilight yelled. They all looked down below and caught sight of Twilight standing on a table looking around. Scott had never thought he would be so happy to lay eyes on the persnickety bookworm. Scott’s relief was ruined when a policepony came barreling through the front door blowing a whistle. Twilight panicked at the sight and her horn flared to life, climaxing with her vanishing in a flash of purple.

“Fuck this!” Scott grabbed a brass vase off the hall table before doubling back. He ran into the office again, with the ponies practically tripping over his feet as they followed.

“Scott, what are ya doi—,” Was all Big Mac managed to say.

With all his strength, Scott hurled the vase at the window across the room without stopping. The vase’s mass and speed allowed it to easily smash through the window; the vase, glass, and wood all fell to the alley below. Scott planted his foot on the window sill and jumped. Soaring across the alley, he wrapped his arms in front of his face and turned himself sideways. The windows swung open violently from his impact with a few glass planes cracking. He landed with a less than graceful stumble and went tumbling across the room into some filing cabinets.

The ponies stood in the doorway with their mouths hanging open. Big Mac was the first to recover; he broke into a gallop and jumped the alley, with the others following behind soon after.

Sheriff Long Arm was not having a good night in the back alley. The plan had been to go through the back to break up the fight and scare everyone off through the front. With only a dozen officers, he didn’t have the horsepower to arrest too many. Unfortunately, someone had gotten overzealous and moved too early out front. Now ponies were destroying the place to get out.

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” He muttered. The thought of the conversation with the mayor tomorrow was already tiring him.

Long Arm and the officers with him jumped at the sound of a glass shattering nearby. Looking over, he saw a brass vase hit the ground in a shower of broken glass. He jerked his head up just in time to barely catch sight of Scott, though he didn’t know what he was, disappear into the other building. A couple seconds later, ponies started jumping the gap in a continuous line. Long Arm sighed.

“You two,” he barked. He pointed at a pair of earth pony officers. “Go around front and detain them. You—,” he pointed at the only unicorn officer, failing to notice Pinkie listening in while jumping the alley in physics-defying slo-mo. “—shield that up.”

The two earth ponies took off, while the unicorn focused on the window. The unicorn’s horn was enveloped in an orange glow, proceeded by a translucent wall of orange covering the window. Ponies began piling into the shield, causing it to bulge out more and more, their faces squished up against it. The translucent glow snapped back, hurling the ponies back into the office. The general sound of a lot of expensive things being broken, which was somehow distinct from the sound of cheap things, echoed out of the room.

Long Arm facehoofed with a groan.

“They’re sending cops around front. We have to hurry!” Pinkie said. Everyone whipped their heads about in a frantic search for the room’s exit.

“There!” Applejack jabbed her hoof at a doorway to stairs in the corner.

With Scott in the lead, they all ran to the opening. The second Scott noticed the stairs had two handrails, he hopped on top of them and slid down the rails spread-eagle. The ponies leaned back on their haunches as they slid down on their hooves.

“Whee!” Pinkie cheered as she slid down backwards.

As soon as Scott hit the floor, he quickly got his bearings of what was apparently a restaurant, if the tables and chairs everywhere were anything to go by. Spying the front door, he sprinted over and quickly unlocked it. Scott flung the door open before ducking back in and off to the side. Without saying a word, he gestured wildly with a swiping motion to the ponies. The ponies slid to a stop and scrambled away from the doorway. Just as the last pony inside found a place to hide, the sound of hoof-falls at a galloping pace approached them.

“Hey, the door is open,” an officer said.

“You think they already made it out?” the other officer asked.

The fleeing party-goers’ hearts began to race when one of the officers walked up and listened for any sounds at the door’s threshold. Twitches barely visible to the eye now felt like they belonged on a cheerleading squad. Beads of sweat formed on Scott’s forehead while he tried to breathe as shallow as possible. What was fifteen seconds at most felt like hours as time seemingly crept to a standstill. Everyone collectively held their breath when the officer groaned.

“I don’t know, you want to look around?” In the background, the commotion from the bar could still be heard.

“Screw it. Let’s head back.” Swinging the door shut, the two cops ran off.

Scott eased himself up and peeked through the corner of the door’s window, trying to expose himself as little as possible. The sound of hooves tapping against the floor drew his attention. Scott glanced back at Big Mac as he approached, noticing a few other ponies as well. He was surprised to see Digit Cruncher huddled behind a table with a passed-out Lucky and Caramel stacked next to him. Vinyl was peeking over the counter with a pony he had never seen. In fact there were at least as many ponies he didn’t recognize as he did. Scott held a finger to his lips, to which Big Mac nodded.

Slowly, Scott opened the door and stepped into the night. Every step he rolled on the outside edge of his shoes. He crept close to the ground, using the chairs and tables of the restaurant’s outdoor dining area as concealment, while panning his head left and right. Twice he abruptly stopped and listened before moving again. In the middle of the street, figuring the coast was clear, Scott relaxed and stood.

Officer Shortstop was flying above the bar lazily shooing pegasi off. The rookie cop’s first couple of weeks had been lacking in ways to prove himself. No robbers to catch, no cases to solve, none of it, just a lot of desk duty and patrols. When the entire force had been called out to deal with a bar fight, he thought it might finally be his moment.

Then the sheriff went and slated all the pegasi to aerial crowd dispersion.

Short Stop was snapped out of his sulking by the breaking of glass directly below. Looking down, he was greeted to the sight of ponies jumping to a different building and his fellow ponies in uniform running off. He glanced around, checking if the other pegasi police ponies were likely to notice him sneak away from his post. Seeing that they were more preoccupied, Shortstop drifted over to the front of the restaurant just as the earth ponies bolted out of the alley.  He furrowed his brow when, after investigating the area and shutting the door, they took off.

“Did they already get away?” Shortstop thought. His breath caught when the door slowly opened and he watched a tall biped sneak out of the door.

“This is perfect!” Shortstop was filled with joy at the thought of catching a suspect that had eluded two seasoned officers. There would never be a better chance to move out of the ranks of ‘rookie.’

Steeling himself, Shortstop kept as quiet as he could; using an updraft to hover, he set up behind Scott. Twice he had to flap his wings and twice he thought he had given himself away when Scott stopped. Once Scott exited the outdoor dining area, Shortstop pulled his wings back like a bird of prey and dove down. Scott turned around right as Shortstop performed a hard landing between him and the restaurant. A plume of dust rolled out along the ground from Short Stop’s high-speed landing. At the officer’s sudden arrival, Scott fell on his back in surprise.

“Don’t move! You’re under arrest!” Shortstop said, with an internal squee of a little girl. “So cool.”

Scott leaned back on his arms, unmoving. The panic in his eyes was  evident as he stared at the pony in uniform. Short Stop didn’t find it odd when Scott’s eyes widened even further before he curled into a ball. In his hubris and inexperience, Shortstop had forgotten one very important thing.

Scott hadn’t been alone.

Short Stop grunted out when he was slammed into from behind. He found himself being carried at speed toward the door across the street. With a smack, the door flung open as he was sent rolling into the house. The wall shook when he collided with it, coming to a rest propped up against the wall upside down with his eyes spinning. He groaned and shakily rose to his hooves when he noticed the presence of someone else in the house.

“Sorry, citizen. I—,” Shortstop froze when he finally got a good look at what he had interrupted.

Mood candles littered the various flat surfaces and floor, their flickering light glowing softly. Endless lines of smoke trailed from lit incense sticks set on a coffee table. Granny Smith suspended in air by a web of ropes, pulleys, and straps with old Mr. Wobbles pulling on the rope’s ends. Nobody moved in the deafening quiet. Short Stop’s eyes had shrunk to pinpricks. His brain unable, or unwilling, to form a coherent thought. The elderly couple stared back in surprise before they shared a glance. Granny was the first to move with a furrow of her brow.

“Listen here, youngin’, either quit gawkin’ and get out, or get over here an’ help.”

Scott looked up from the ground at the house; a table wrapped in a blue glow was wedged against its door. Scott got to his feet and turned back to see Vinyl trotting up with her chin held up in pride.

“What’s with you and tables?” Scott asked.

Everyone ducked away when Shortstop burst out of the house. The table flipped into the air and the door slammed shut in his wake. At a speed Rainbow Dash would have approved of, he left a trail of black and blue as he streaked off into the night sky. Everyone stared after the retreating cop, then collectively turned back to the house.

“Sooo.” Scott turned to Vinyl. “Thanks for the save, lady.”

“Aw, no prob’s, guy.” She turned and started off before stopping. With a half turn, she looked back over her shoulder. “Names Vinyl Scratch, by the way. Stop by my store some time and I’ll hook you up.” She didn’t wait for a response before trotting off. Scott shrugged and jogged over to the Apples and Pinkie.

“I’ll make sure to get these two home, Mac.” Cruncher tilted his head toward Caramel and Lucky stacked on his back.

“Thanks, Ah appreciate that,” Mac said. Pinkie and the Apples started walking away at an ever increasing pace as Scott joined them.

“Think nothing of it, old chum,” Cruncher replied to the quickly retreating forms. Cruncher moseyed off in the other direction humming a tune to himself, while Scott and the others were all but running from the scene. All of them were eager to put as much distance between themselves and the town as soon as possible.

It was afternoon the next day, and the girls all sat around the Apple’s living room focused on a nervous Scott and Big Macintosh. With the exception of Rarity and Fluttershy, everyone was sporting a nasty collection of bandages and bruises. Twilight hadn’t earned hers from the fight, as no one had been able to lay a hoof on her. Hers had come from when she teleported to her tree-house. In a panic, along with her buzz, she miscalculated and wound up ten feet above her home. Not being a good enough flier, she fell and bounced through the branches to the ground.

While riding the tail end of truly horrible hangovers, Big Mac and Scott had gone through the events that led to what would forever be known as: The Incident. The conversation jumped back and forth between the two as they helped each other fill in the blanks of their spotty memories. Now they were awkwardly awaiting the girls to say something, quietly wishing they had chosen to sit. The worst wasn’t the silence, but the lack of reaction. The entire time, none of the girls had listened with anything other than neutral expressions. It wasn’t until Applejack stood up with a friendly smile that Scott and Big Mac realized they should have let the cops catch them.

“Sounds like y’all had a humdinger of a time last night,” Applejack said. Her voice was calm and sweet as she walked up to them with a face to match. Scott cringed, along with Big Mac, and leaned away from her. “That’s good.” Her sunny disposition twisted into one of righteous fury. “Because you’ve gone an’ caused so much goddamn trouble Ah don’t know where ta begin!”

“Do you know how much damage was caused to the bar?” Twilight asked.

“That wasn’t directly our fault.” Scott held up a finger.

“You ruined our night out,” Rarity said.

“See previous answer?”

“What about when you threw me into the bar-back?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Self-defense,” He said. “Also: ha ha.” Dash narrowed her eyes and frowned, her wings bristling.

“Or when you smashed up the office and the restaurant next door?” Pinkie asked.

“Technically, breaking a window is not ‘smashing up,’ and I didn’t break anything in the restaurant.”

“Well. What about all those poor ponies you hurt?” Fluttershy asked.

With a flat look, Scott lifted his shirt to reveal a veritable painter’s palette of purples, blues, yellows, and reds that covered his body. With the exception of Rainbow Dash and Applejack, the girls winced at the sight.

“Ah don’t care what 'cha gotta say. Ah’m gonna work ya so hard tomorrow, ya’re gonna be sore for a month!” Applejack said.

“Are you hitting on me?” he asked, followed shortly by a blink. “Wow— did I really say that?”

Big Mac made himself as small as possible and edged away from Scott, convinced that whatever was about to happen would have some sort of kill radius. Applejack slowly rose to her back legs to stare into his eyes.

“Keep yuckin’ it up while ya can, cause tomorrow--” She grabbed his shirt and yanked him so close he could feel her breathe. Scott gulped as her voice carried an uncharacteristic, dangerous edge to it-- “You. Are. Mine.”

Big Mac held his head low with a grimace as he tried to slink away with his tail tucked.

“That goes for you too, mister.” She turned on her brother and dropped back to all fours. Big Mac sighed before straightening up. He turned and opened his mouth only for Applejack to cut him off. “Ah don’t want ta hear it. An’ don’t think Ah’ve forgot about yer idiot friends. Ah’m sure Dash an’ Twilight would be more than happy ta get Thunderlane an’ Lucky out here.”

“I think the town can do without one of their clerks for a day,” Twilight said.

“Thunderlane is all yours,” Rainbow said.

“To be fair, It’s not like we told them I can’t go into town and they were like, ‘fuck that’ and dragged me out,” Scott said. He ignored Fluttershy’s wince at the curse word. “They didn’t do anything wrong; it was all on us.”

Scott didn’t know why that seemed to mollify most of the girls, nor did he care; he was just happy it had. The truth was, he had pleasantly surprised them by sticking up for the others and accepting the blame, or at least taking the fall. Twilight looked at each of the girls in turn, wordlessly debating sparing the others. One by one, each of the girls nodded back except Dash, who shrugged. Lastly, Applejack pressed her lips and, albeit reluctantly, nodded her head.

“Fine, just you two then,” Twilight said. Twilight stood, the others following suit, and without so much as a glance back, all the girls filed out of the room with their noses in the air.

Mac flopped down onto the couch with a sigh and, sitting back like a human would, stared up at the ceiling. Scott joined him on the couch and did the same thing. The grandfather clock ticking away was the only sound that keep the silence at bay. With his hands folded on his lap, Scott tapped his thumbs together in sync with the ticks of the grandfather clock. Every so often, he occasionally glanced over at his partner in crime. A good minute passed before either of them said or did anything.

“Hey, Mac,” Scott said.

“Yeah?” Big Mac asked.

“I’m hungry. Think Applejack could cook us something?” Scott asked.

Big Mac buried his face in his hooves and whimpered at Scott’s indifference to the level of dog-house they currently found themselves.

“What?”