Chapter 5
A Leap of Faith

Many people have moments in their lives where the only option they have right then, with no time to think, is just do it. And that thought is followed by ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ In most cases life happens; didn’t wear protection? Has a baby. Climb cliffs by yourself? Get stranded for 127 hours and cut off arm with a small knife. I believe that I have made my point. Anyways my moment happened when I pulled an Ezio Auditore Da Firenze. He jumps from towers into carts of hay; I however jumped from an Airship midflight with solid granite mountains below me. It’s some nice looking granite; probably marble, soon to have a coat of splattered reptile all over it.
An explanation is in order I guess. Well, as I found out, there is a Pegasus aboard the Enterprise, a tan mare with silver-white hair. For a better visualization, just picture Daring Do with silver-white mane and tail. I figured (by which I mean assumed) that she was like the rest of the crew; calm, laidback, reasonable. That was until I learned her name and saw her Cutie Mark (I’m just gonna shorten that down to ‘Mark’ from now on, just seems weird for a guy to say ‘cutie’ towards anything.). Her name is Rikoche, pronounced like ricochet, and her Mark was of a blurred ball bouncing off of a flat surface. But since she was the only other winged creature on the ship (I checked twice) she was my only hope. For those who have not put the pieces together, I don’t have a single clue on how to fly, and I would be too embarrassed to ask someone in the next port how. And I don’t even know if there is a flight school that’s not in Cloudsdale.
I find her in the galley sitting by herself. I grab a clawfull of spoons and make my way over to her. “Hey Rikoche, mind if I join you?” I asked once I was at the table.
“Huh? Oh, hey, you’re the greenhorn right? Yea, have a seat.”
“Yea I’m the new guy, my name is Ripper.”
“You know, at that rate we’ll be eating like pigs on a farm” she said as I ate the last of the spoons I had grabbed.
“Sorry, I just like the taste too much to stop. Anyways, do you have any plans later this afternoon?”
She gets a very devious smile, “I’ve got nothing planned, but before I help you, I have a test for you. The results will sway my answer.”

That test, as I found out, was a drinking tournament. The entire ship, except for two skeleton crews so we would remain on course, was signed up. Rikoche led me through the ship and our destination was the cargo bay, where there was a clearing with a series of tables lined up into rows and columns. On the way there I managed to bang my forehead on half of the bulkheads. Once we reached the sign in table, I saw a banner that named Rikoche as the Champion three years running. I guess that explains her smile.
My first opponent was a red burly looking stallion. Envision a mix of a red pony and a bear. “New guy?” I nod. “Heh, have fun.” After two pints of beer, Big Red (as I’ve named him) face-slams the table. “This guy is a fucking lightweight?! Seriously?” I blurted out. The next guy I face off with gave me a feeling that he was from Germany (would that translate over to ‘Germaine’?). “Vedy?” Suspicions confirmed.
“Bring it.” I challenge. After six pints and two shots of black label, he farts and slowly tips off of the bench with a vacant look in his eyes. I’m totally sober and laughing my ass off at him. 18 more challengers come to the table, and 18 more fall to my Scott-Irish liver, leading me towards the final mach. I check the Bracket and find out that Rikoche had beaten the third place guy named O’riley McGallahoof. My only comment was “Damn, she beat an Irish fellow.” Two officials escort me to the center of the table grid. And that has to be the biggest table I’ve ever seen, the only one I can think of being bigger is the one for Sunbutts’ cake loving ass. Rikoche and I sit opposite of each other at the table. The events that occurred after that moment are blurred and unintelligible. But bases on the Officials records, we kept pace with each other until the end. The count was: One barrel of Sweet Apple Acres’ Hard Cider, 12 pints of beer, 2 bottles of Black Label, a gallon of pure Vodka, four “H-Bombs” (Whiskey, Coke-a-cola, and a Monster energy drink) and a quart of 190 proof White Lightning Moonshine. Each. And as I found out the next morning, with the surprise I woke up with and the looks I was getting from the mares onboard (and some stallions), when I am utterly shitfaced, I think with my Man Sword instead of my brain. So imagine her reaction when I sneak my tail under the table and start to stroke her lower back with it. She was at the same level of inebriation as I was based on the fact that she started to grind her back against my tail. What she slurred out next gave me a wing boner and a boner at the same time. “Don’t touch tha wings. Save ‘em for latter.” As if to emphasize something she lets loose a small hurp. That’s a hiccup and a burp at the same time.
My immediate response to the tan mare was “What’s your room number, and do you want to be my marefriend?” my mind interrupts me and argues with me:
‘Hey! Why are you not showing any signs of inebriation? Such as slurred speech!’
‘Because I am superbly amazing.’
‘Bullshit!’
‘Bullshit on your Bullshit. I look badass, Fight like a badass, and I am about to have sex. Now shut up and let me drive!!’
“It’s room 42 babe, only two bulkheads away.” She says with a very sultry look on her muzzle. I smell something sweet and tangy. At the same time I hear her let out a soft moan escape her lips as her head leans onto the table. With a soft thud, I have officially become the new Drinking Champion; in the words of a certain yellow and pink Pegasus- Yay.
Still thinking with my lower half, I carry Rikoche out of the cargo bay and towards her room. I figured out the cause of her moans, I think she used my tail as a sex toy. I found her room, open the door and make my way to her bed.

Author's Note

Sorry about the wait. might be a week or so until the next chapter. thanks for tuning in!