After a long day of guarding caravans, Dirt was ready to let loose and hit the town. Armed with nothing more than his six-shooter and a hoofful of bottle caps, he decided to pay a visit to Cloppington's, a local gentleman's club.

As he approached the place, he could hear electronic music emanating from its doors and windows. This place was classy enough to afford its own sound system. The bouncer, a mean-looking earth pony, stopped him at the door.

"Entrance fee's twenty caps," he said. Dirt hoofed him the money without much thought and trotted inside. Surprisingly, the place wasn't very strict on the no-weapons rule; the bouncer hadn't even searched him!

Once inside, he surveyed the condition of the place. There were a few ponies at the bar and in front of the pole-dancers, but otherwise there was hardly anypony there. He decided to visit the bar first.

"Just a shot of cider," he said to the bartender. He tossed ten caps onto the counter. Within a few seconds, his drink was placed beside him. He took it in his hooves and downed it in one smooth and heavily rehearsed motion. He ordered another, then turned his attention to the dancing mares. He had a feeling he would be getting lucky tonight.

After a few (dozen) more drinks, he made his way towards the stage, sitting at the closest unoccupied seat. In front of him, a yellow mare danced for her audience. Dirt, his mind rapidly becoming more and more clouded, decided that he would throw her a few bottle caps.

That seemed to be just the motivation she needed. She turned her attention - and her flank - to him, her body gyrating to the beat of the music that was playing. He happened to notice her cutie mark: a flower petal. His eyes quickly shifted to her other asset. With curves like that, she would drive any stallion crazy. Dirt tossed some more caps and watched the show.

Eventually, though, the mare picked up her earnings and trotted offstage. Dirt saw his chance. Quickly, he hurried over to the mare and called her. "Hey there," he said.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes studying his body. "Yes?" she asked.

"You know, you're pretty good up on stage. Think you'd be as talented back at my place?"

At first, she seemed to be irritated, but her expression quickly changed to one of flirtatiousness. "Tell you what. Meet me out back in five minutes, and I'll show you just how talented I am." She gave him a lusty grin and flicked her tail, practically making him quiver with excitement. "By the way, the name's Daisy Petal." With that, she trotted backstage.

Dirt smiled. "Works every time." He shuffled back to the bar to wait. The night seemed to be going his way; he hadn't even spent that much money, yet here he was with a mare that was like putty in his hooves. Perhaps it was his lucky night.

After five minutes, he trotted out the back door and looked around the alley, ready to drive Miss Daisy into the wall. "Are you out here?" he called.

Suddenly, something slammed into the back of his head, and he was out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dirt slowly opened his eyes, letting out a harsh groan. His ribs hurt, and his head was pounding like a hammer on a nail.

He very tentatively sat up, studying his surroundings. Then it came back to him. He remembered what Daisy Petal had done to him.

He felt for the gun on his belt. However, it wasn't there. In a panic, he looked all around him in hopes of finding it. No such luck. The familiar rattle of the bottle caps in his pouch was also not present.

"That bitch!" Dirt cursed. "Musta knocked me out or somethin'." She had taken almost everything of his, aside for his clothes and the bobby pins he kept stashed under his belt.

It was going to be a rough morning.

He circled around to the front of the building, hoping to have a word with the owner. Of course, the place was closed and locked in the morning. That didn't stop Dirt, though. He reached into his belt and removed a bobby pin with his teeth. Ever so carefully, he began to work on unlocking the front door. He struggled with it a little bit, cursing a few times when one of his bobby pins broke. Finally, he managed to open the door. He grinned, rather proud of himself.

"Ahem," said a voice behind him.

Dirt turned around and found himself face to face with a muscular earth pony, presumably the owner. Caught red-hooved, Dirt smiled through the lockpick in his teeth. "Oh, hello."

The owner was not amused. "You have three seconds to get your flank out my club before I kick it out myself." He began to count. "One, two..."

"Oh, all right," Dirt grumbled. He spat the pin out and began to shuffle away. As soon as the stallion wasn't paying attention, though, he tackled him and began beating him with his bare hooves. The owner, caught off guard, could do almost nothing. When he had been sufficiently bloodied, Dirt looked at him sharply.

"A mare of yours named Daisy has something of mine. You tell me where I can find her and you can keep your remaining teeth, sleazebag."

The owner spat blood on his cheek. "I ain't tellin' you nothing!"

Dirt hit the stallion over the head with his hoof. "Oh, you will if you value your life."

Finally, the owner of the club came clean. "All right! She's staying in New Appleloosa. Just stop hitting me!"

"Thank you." Dirt whacked him one last time, knocking him out. That should teach him to let his girls steal from the customer.

He climbed off of the poor sap, then looked around. New Appleloosa was about a day from here by hoof, but that didn't bother Dirt much.

He was going to get his money even if he had to trek through Tartarus itself.

Author's Note

Revised 6/7/14.