Bloody Debauchery and Other Gentle Pastimes

Introducing Backsaw McColt

The sun was blazing at it’s peak, high in the sky. It was high noon. A loud bell rang out through the sweltering air. The origin of the sound came from the police office at the end of town. A large bell was hidden just behind the building out of sight. It made it seem as though the low ringing sound came from the sky itself. The bell rang exactly two times, both with five second gaps in between each ring.

The light jingling of horseshoe spurs grew louder and louder as a baby blue stallion with dark blue hair walked into town. He wore a brown ten gallon hat that just barely fit him and bore the cutie mark of a backsaw. His eyes were gray and his teeth were worse than a donkey’s. A shiny silver revolver was holstered on his foreleg with an ineligible engraving on the barrel. With the confidence of a lone rooster in a hen house, he strolled down the main avenue of town. His spurs jangling all the way before he came to a stop in front of the saloon. He gathered the saliva in his mouth and spat it noisily on the ground. His eyes immediately caught sight of the white mare sleeping on the porch. A sly smirk crossed his face and he trotted over to her with what could described at best as swagger and at worse the walk of a retard.

“Missy, I do believe I am lost. Could you point me in the direction of uh-” the stallion paused his speech and strained his eyes to read what the welcome mat under the swinging doors said. “-ah, could you point me in the direction of Sarsaparilla Soft’s Bloody Mare-y. I am positively parched.” He continued with new found confidence in his words. While he did have a slight midwestern accent, he didn't have any speech impediment whatsoever. What he got in response was the exact opposite of what he expected. A snore erupted out from under the black stetson hat that covered the mare’s face. The blue stallion leaned back with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh, missy? Yoo hoo!” the stallion asked, waving his hoof wildly in front of the sleeping mare.

“WAKE UP!” he screamed at the mare. All she did was mumble some sort of foreign insult, not even opening her eyes. The blue stallion let out a ‘hmph’ before gathering a bunch of saliva in his mouth and spat it into the sand noisily.

“Alright missy, I know how to wake you up.” the stallion said with a devilish smirk. The blue stallion reached down and grabbed his revolver. He trotted a few steps closer to the mare and leaned down beside her ear.

“Wakey-wakey.” He whispered with a wicked grin. He placed his revolver right next to the mare’s white ear and let loose one bullet, the bang resonating through the air for at least a mile. There was half a second of utter silence after the shot before the stallion’s gun was in the white mare’s maw in a swift flash of white. Her eyes were locked on him with fury blazing in them like green hellfire. The stallion’s smug attitude vanished to be replaced with fear and panic battling for dominance in his grey eyes. He held onto his revolver for dear life but that was a huge mistake on his part. The white mare cocked her head and yanked the blue stallion towards her, to his terror. She head butted him with extreme force which got him to let go of the revolver as he fell onto his back in the hot sand. Angrily, the mare spat out the revolver and pulled her whinnychester from her side and pointed it right at the stallions gut. She held her repeater with one hoof and cocked it with a jerk.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn't bury a bullet in your stomach like the dog you are!?” The mare threatened in rage.

“Whoa, whoa! Don't shoot me!” The stallion screamed, putting his hooves in the air frantically.

“Why not!? You were gonna rape me, just like every other stallion who finds a mare all alone!” The mare snapped accusingly.

“W-what!? Look missy, I was not going to rape you, I promise.” The stallion pleaded, scootching away from the mare.

“Uh-huh, that’s why you had a gun to my head and was leaned over me?” The mare asked sarcastically, her brow raised high.

“N-n-no. I was just trying to wake you up! Honest!” The stallion pleaded, fear welling up inside him.

“Just like a stallion! You lie! Well you can tell that to your maker mister.” The mare growled, aiming down her sights and squeezing the trigger.

“Please!” The stallion pleaded before a huge bang split the air, silencing him. His eyes were pinched shut for a few seconds but then they relaxed and slowly drew open with teary eyes.

“Put. The gun. Down!” A female's voice called from several yards away. The blue stallion looked to his left to see an azure mare with a light yellow dress. A plum purple mare stumbled and fumbled with a shotgun before falling on her butt while clutching the gun desperately with the barrel beside her ear. The shotgun let off another bang, making the purple pony stiffen in pain, her eyes tightening and shrinking.

“She’s crazy! She shot me!” The blue stallion shrieked, reaching out at the two mares.

“No she didn’t ya nit.” Sarsaparilla Soft said in deadpan, rolling her eyes. The blue stallion gave her a confused look before patting himself down. Luckily, there were no holes in his body.

“I thought you’d be trouble. White mares are always problematic.” Sarsaparilla said, nodding to herself.

“ME!? This stallion nearly blew my ear off!” The mare yelled back at Soft.

“Hey! Let’s just put the guns down, and we can all explain what happened like regular, adult ponies.” The blue stallion said to Sarsaparilla, seeing as she acted more rational. There was an awkward silence between the group before the white mare lowered her whinnychester and slung it onto her back.

“Alright mister. But you make one move, look one bit suspicious and I’ll shoot you dead faster than a breezie in a hurricane. You understand?” The mare spoke like a school teacher to a filly, glaring all the while.

“I understand.” The blue stallion said, gulping. Hesitantly, he picked himself out of the sand and settled into a sitting position.

“What’s your names?” Sarsaparilla Soft asked, trotted up to the two ponies in question, Plum following closely behind. Her ears had stopped ringing now and she had slung the gun on her side, barrel facing the opposite way.

“Lilia, Lucky Lilia.” The white mare said, lowering herself into a sitting position on the porch.

“Backsaw McColt.” The blue stallion said, wiping sweat from his face. Plum’s ears perked when the stallion said ‘McColt.’

“I’m Sarsparilla Soft and this here is Plum Peach interchangeable. Now, what exactly happened in front of my saloon?” Soft asked, looking back and forth between the two ponies. Backsaw spoke up first.

“I walked into town to try and find the local saloon and I saw miss Lilia sleeping on the porch. So I tried to wake her up.” Backsaw explained his side of the story with a little nervousness climbing it’s way up his throat.

“He forgot to mention that his way of so called ‘waking me’ was putting that stupid revolver beside my ear and pulling the trigger! Stupid dog!” Lilia spat at Backsaw like the pure epitome of spite itself was guiding her words. Sarsparilla looked at Backsaw in her classic deadpan look with the new addition of one raised brow.

“Really? Ya had ta wake her up that way?” Sarsaparilla asked sarcastically.

“That is the most heaviest sleeping pony I ever have met!” Backsaw cried in defense. Plum visibly cringed at the way he worded his sentence.

“Agreed. You were out like a light a little while ago.” Soft shrugged and looked to Lilia for her plea.

“Doesn’t mean this male mutt gets to bust my ear drum!” Lucky Lilia complained, kicking the ground a little bit. Plum stepped up past Sarsparilla after Lilia’s statement.

“Um, do you have something against stallions?” Plum asked, cocking her head in confusion.

“Of course. If it’s not raping mares it’s stealing from them when it comes to stallions. No good dreck of the world is what they are!” Lillia retorted, pointing at Backsaw as if he had personally committed every crime mentioned.

“What!?” Both Plum and Backsaw exclaimed in unison.

“Lucky here’s right. Stallions ain’t good for nothin. Bunch of rubbish is what they are.” Sarsparilla said with eerie simplicity in her voice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What!? Just because some stallions do that don'ts mean we all do.” Backsaw said, jumping to his hooves. Plum cringed once again at his sentence structure but nodded her head in agreement.

“Yeah! What’s wrong with you two?” Plum said in astonishment.

“It’s true. Statistics show that nearly 92% of the entire stallion population of Equestria has either committed or has thought about committing rape or theft.” Sarsparilla countered, adopting a very forced educated tone of voice. Plum’s eyes shrunk into annoyed expression with a hint of deadpan.

“Are you serious?” Plum Peach asked with her mouth agape. Lilia and Sarsparilla nodded their heads rapidly.

“I am not a rapist, or a thief, or any other random criminal you crazy mares could think of. I’m just gonna go get a room at the inn.” Backsaw said, obviously done with the conversation, his eyes rolling as he turned away from Lilia and Soft.

“Inn’s empty.” Plum and Sarsparilla said in unison.

“Then I’ll leave some bits on the-” Backsaw stopped abruptly when Plum started shaking her head in a ‘no’ fashion.

“There’s no furniture. It’s an empty building.” The purple mare said.

“Well I gotta stay somewhere. The next town isn’t for miles.” Backsaw said in an exasperated manner, moving his eyes from Plum to Sarsparilla.

“Y’all can stay in my saloon, I got’a few extra blankets. Just make sure ya buy somethin.” Sarsparilla said, waving her hoof dismissively. Lillia showed obvious discomfort of staying in the same place as Backsaw but not a peep came from her muzzle. A silence grew between them, a welcomed one. It meant nopony was trying to kill another. Each pony hesitantly made their way into the Bloody Mare-y and after a few minutes were settled down. Plum and Backsaw were chatting about life up north, the subject of Plum’s favorite alcohol bringing a chuckle to Backsaw. Lillia sat at the bar as far away from those two and Sarsparilla Soft trotted around the saloon with a bored look on her face. Minutes turned to half an hour, half an hour turned to an hour and so on and so forth. After about two hours the room grew silent and Lillia had fallen asleep again. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a grey stallion burst through the saloon doors in dramatic fashion with a shiny silver star pinned to the side of his gray wool bowler hat that sat snuggly atop his head.

“I heard shooting!” The stallion exclaimed, looking around the room with searching eyes.

“You’re about two hours late sheriff!” Sarsparilla Soft snapped in annoyance, face hoofing at the spectacle.

“Oh.”