Rugged Rascal was a light brown stallion, who always wore his tan cowboy hat on his head, and his pride on his shoulders. Rascal however, was hurt on the inside. His rival Quick Draw had stolen his marefriend. Rascals cutie mark depicted a small grey rodent.

Sweet Rose was Rascal's Ex. She was a beauty of incomparable looks. Her natural beauty made stallions wake in her very presence. She was a light pink mare with hot pink hair that flowed elegantly. She was the highlight of Rascal's existence and he was crushed when she left. To think, such a treasure was taken from Rascal.

Rugged Rascal checked into the local saloon. He walked into his room, moping over the loss of his beloved, Sweet Rose. He placed a case down onto the bed, and upon opening the case he revealed a revolver. The sleek black metal he would use to get his revenge on Quick Draw. He turned his head only to find the bible of Celestialism. Devout Faith had obviously forgotten it in the room. Rascal gave a chuckle as he closed the case, he was planning on blowing away his rival. The idealism of revenge was sweet euphoria to his brain, a drug causing his actions.

Quick Draw had broken Rascal, as he was planning to propose to his beloved, but then Draw had to come into his life. Rascal's world had came down on him. None of this mattered to Rascal however, as revenge was only a room away. The couple he was referring to were in the other room at the hoedown. He closed the case as he sat down on the bed, fantasizing about tonight's events.

Once the clock struck eight P.M, Rascal would get to work. He was ready to do whatever it took to get his mare back into his life, even if it meant challenging Draw. Draw was notorious for gunfights, as he was one of the quickest shots in the west. It wouldn't be easy, but Rascal thought he had luck on his side. Rascal lit a cigarette as he leaned back into a chair. Every moment that he got closer to his revenge gave him even greater anticipation. He would finally have his life back to normal, and his rival? He would have no life at all. It seemed that Rascal wanted Rose back at any cost, no matter who had gotten in his way. Why did Rose leave if Rascal loved her so? That never occurred to Rascal, as his love was too strong to pass up an opportunity at getting her back. He imagined the cheering of the crowd as he shot down Draw.

What one might see as sick blood-thirst, Rascal saw as his pride and need for Rose's affection. The clock ticked with an unbearable pace. Getting closer with every strike on the minute hand. Soon the clock struck eight and Rascal left his room. He had a feeling in his gut that revenge would soon be in his grasp. Rascal had fire in his green eyes, as he put out his cigarette. He donned his favorite hat.

He waltzed next door and kicked down the door, his revolver readied at his hip. Inside were a few stallions and mares, all dancing away to their hearts content. Everything stopped when Rascal came inside. Mares were shocked, as their stallions were readied in case Rascal tried anything. They gave him looks of disgust and hatred as he moved inside, Rascal tipped his hat. His belt was clinking until he stopped in front of Draw. Draw spit out his tobacco, perfectly hitting the spit bucket. Draw tipped his hat to Rascal.

Quick Draw was a grey stallion with white hair and a soul-patch. He stared Rascal in the eyes, bearing a grin wider than anything ever seen. Draw always spoke with a thick drawl, and mares swooned over him. Rascal returned his own grin, as tension built between the two rivals. It was unlike anything ever witnessed, as their hate filled the air. Draw had stolen something dear to Rascal just because he could, and Rascal had come to avenge his losses. Rascal then pointed his right foreleg towards Draw.

Rascal seethed with rage before exclaiming, "Quick Draw, this is a showdown!" The crowd of ponies were taken aback by Rascal's brash words. Draw approached him, still bearing his grin. His forearm was at his hip as he stared Rascal down. They turned away from each other, prepared for their duel.

"Very well, you wanna' die pal. Alrighty' then," Draw said, chuckling. His cocky demeanor riled up Rascal even more. The room was silent, as onlookers awaited the duo's confrontation. Minutes seemed to be hours, as a stallion walked up.

The stallion began, "Ready? Set. Draw!" The two slowly turned around and went for their iron.

Unexpectedly, Rose had an outburst, "Stop it!" Her pleads were to no avail however, as the stallions drew. Draw was hot, he drew first and shot. The shot hit Rascal in the arm as he recoiled to the corner. The crowd left the room, following Draw. Rascal lied there, blood dripping from his arm. The door closed as silence befell Rascal. He had failed the most important duel of his life. He had lost his beloved and his pride. He looked down at his hat

Rascal sat there depressed, his wound causing him a deal of pain. the ponies evacuated and the doctor stepped in. He was positively reeking of alcohol as he moved through the door. He looked at Rascal and gave him a chuckle. Rascal Looked up at the good doctor.

Doc was a white stallion with a grey mane, his cutie mark resembling a bottle of pills. He too had a drawl of his own, but it was much more feint. Doc moved towards the table, giving Rascal a neutral expression.

"Well Rascal, it seems you've met your match," Doc said, slumping against the table. Rascal gave him a forlorn look as they sat there. Doc came closer and began to wrap dressings on Rascals wound. Rascal looked up, smiling at the good doctor.

"It's only a wound, and I'll be better again. As soon as I am better, I'm going to hunt him down," Rascal said, weakly chuckling. Doc smiled, as he left the room. He flicked out the lights. Rascal sat there, reflecting his actions. Awaiting something to happen. He donned a frown as he peered out the window, watching the moon soar across the night sky. The light from the nights plethora of stars smiled upon Rascal, for he wouldn't die this day. He walked out of the room and started down the stairs. Slowly but steadily he made his way down to the bar. He saw Mix standing behind the bar, awaiting customers.

"Bring me a bottle of whiskey," Rascal said, flipping a bit onto the table. He took a seat on one of the many stools, awaiting his spirits. Mix comes back and puts a bottle on the table, Rascal takes the bottle and pours himself a glass. He began to drink away his failure and his problems, as the cool desert night passed above him. The bar was empty, as most of the ponies had left, it was just poor, old Rascal sitting there. Drink after drink, Rascal eventually had enough. He slowly made his way back up to his room, stumbling in his drunken stupor. Mix looked up, pitying the stallion.

Rascal eventually made it into his room, falling back onto his bed. After awhile, Rascal turned, only to see Devout's bible. It seemed as though he left it there to help with Rascals recovery. He lied on the bed, in pain. Rascal knew he failed as he pulled out a picture of Rose. The very prize he both sought and fought for. Life was cruel to Rascal, as he teared up at the sight. The moon once again looked down onto Rascal, this time with feelings of sorrow and pity.

Rascal held the picture in his hooves as he sobbed himself to sleep.

Author's Note

This is first one-shot I've ever done, I am looking for any opinions you are willing to offer.

the inspiration for this was pretty obvious huh?