With a flick of your wrist, what was left of your Marlboro was tossed onto the pavement. Your friend next to you has been annoying your for one of the 'Apple Ranch IPAs' since you got them this afternoon, eager to pop one open and drink the supposedly organic cider. The drinks themselves did not come from a market, either- they came from a small orchard whom bottled them in low profile brown bottles with silver caps, which makes them quite sought after by your friends. Between your group, each friend could have about six and a half of these things, if they were to divide the entire stock up, which would mean you had 26 bottles, all about 12 ounces… more than enough to get all of you drunk enough to do karaoke in front of a bunch of women.

Soon enough your friends old turbocharged Cressida sedan pulled up to the curb, then the trunk was popped, and the wooden crate of cider was thrown into the back of the trunk- and with a thud the trunk was closed. You and your best friend were placed into the back seats of the car while your cousin was at the wheel with a retarded vape pen in his mouth. Your cousin enjoyed hockey and disliked women; for he believed that the road to happiness lies with friendship and friendship only, which made him asexual by nature. With a swift gearshift you flew off the curb and into second, barreling down the street to your place.
"Hey guys." Richard simply said, before sucking on his pen- blowing the subsequent water vapor out of the window.
"Howareyounow?" your friend replied.
"good, and you?" Richard and the passenger replied in unison.
"Not so bad." he said back quickly.

"Hey Rich." you said.
He looked you in the eyes through the mirror, making sure he could make eye contact.
"Hey Anon. You still smoking?" he says.
"Yeahp." you reply back.
"That's too bad. Hope you can still taste" the passenger says.
Richard looks at his friend, whom is a man you don't know.
"Oh! Anon, this is Will- he's my friend from work."
"Suh, my dude." he replies jokingly.
Welp, time for the test.
"You're a pretty big guy." you say.
He smiles, getting the joke- and replies "For you."
Well, that's good to hear. Another one goes on the internet as well… the only 'normie' was your cousin, whom knows about 4chan but has no idea how to fill out a captcha, your best friend on the other hand, has multiple horse scarfs. The real reason you and your friendo have been dying to drink the 'Apple family brand' is really in the pursuit of memes. Even the box has a white apple spray painted on the top with 'APPLE FAMILY CIDER' in big, beautiful impact font on the lid. Oh yes- this is the real reason for this particular cider, because you love indulging in these kind of happy coincidences, and your best friend's waifu was indeed applejack.

After a while of inside joke bants, you guys arrive at your place, which is a dark wood furnished upstairs loft with a large 4k tv and not much else. Well, there was your little Intel desktop, but that wasn't very impressive on the outside. It's hooked up to the TV with a little wireless keyboard and trackpad combo you use for streaming on your TV, seeing as you hated the OS that came with the 'smart' TV.

You walk into the door, set down the large wood crate, and head into the kitchen to grab the bag of ice out of your freezer. You place the bag onto the table, doing a double take of the position before you slam your elbow onto the bag, breaking apart the 'kind of' solid mass of ice chunks. Ripping the top of the bag, you pour the contents into a large punch bowl.

While you were doing that, however- your friends had grabbed a pocket knife and popped the lid to the case, revealing the sweet twenty six brown bottles.
"Larson, do you mind grabbing me four of those so we can chill them?"
He looks up at you, and replies "There's literally nothing wrongs with just have them warm."
"Oh yes there is, if you were to open them, the cider would go everywhere; it's to carbonated. it needs to be chill so you can actually open them."
With a harrumph- he brings you the cider. You take them in-between your fingers and place them into the ice. The rest, however- are packed firmly into your empty fridge before you and your three buddies retire to the couch.

After a bit of watching the 10 o'clock news you decide that it's cool to open the bottles. Your friends take great pleasure in popping off the caps, and toasting to the dude who just died from a stabbing. After the 'after toast swig' your friends smile and start commenting on this taste. After treading through the holy shit and waving to the Jesus Christs you guys finsih your first bottle, putting it back in the now empty wooden crate.
"To the next bottle!" Larson proudly shouts.
For context, 'Larson' is your friends nick name, given to him because his black curtains hang down like the MLP writers' hair. He resembles him quite a bit, actually.

"DICKS OUT FOR HARAMBE!" Richard shouts while holding up his second bottle, revealing to you that he might actually use the internet.
You join in, actually liking the normie meme. Shouting "FOR HARAMBE" as your clank your second set of drinks. After the second bottle goes about half way down your guys begin watching 'The Joy of Painting' on Netflix, making comments as you do so.
"You paint those happy fucking trees, Bob." you would shout.
"They're so fucking happy!" Richard would then shout.
"We're all just a bunch of happy fucking accidents!" Will would then shout out.
You realize how alcoholic these might actually be, looking at the bottle. Looking at your friends, you notice that they seem about three cocktails in rather than one and a half ciders' in. Despite their booze like alcohol levels, you pound that one down and head up for thirds- and by the time that you pop the caps on the next four, William had switched it to Game Grumps, which you didn't watch- but was pretty good anyways. The comment's had died down after game grumps went on, morphing into spots of laughter at points of comedic value… You come back with the four drinks and you guys cheer, with Larson this time calling the toast.
"For Applejack! Great cider, great lifestyle!"

And surprisingly, everyone cheered 'FOR APPLEJACK!' back at him. Richard knew ponies, and he enjoyed watching them when you had it on, but he had never gotten into real heavy fandom, he enjoys MLP, no more, no less. And, surprisingly, after game grumps- MLP went on, with Will of all people choosing the episodes he thought 'looked alright'. The fourth went down, and when you got up, you stumbled a bit… marveling at the potency of the cider. After you stabilized yourself, you headed down the one hallway and into the bathroom located in the master bedroom. You let off a furious yellow stream, and flushed the toilet. When you walked back into the living room, you saw something you couldn't comprehend. Richard, Will, And Larson had turned into Waifus.
"Okay, Jesus, guys- what the fuck was in this?"
"Darlinnn-" a drunken Larson responded, "It's just Alcohol and magic, it's Apple Brand after all."
"Yeah, Anon- Of coursss it's magic and alcohol, what did you expect out of something called 'twilights' IPA?" Will turned, flipping his golden ponytail around his shoulders, sending his 10 gallon hat onto the floor.
"Right! But, I wash wrong about the names- Applejah, IPAa aren' juss ANYTHIN made independently! It STAHNDS for Inedpendent, uhh- something! BUT BUT BUT BUT! Appleja, Cider! It's No IPA!"
"Rih Sugarcuub, I knew! I Knew all the time!"
You watched in horror as three drunken Waifus went at it talking about assorted ciders on the couch. You also watched in horror as violet glows manifested around you, and with a blink of the eye, you were Bright blue, and about three times as drunk.
You tried to walk forward, but your wings poofed out to either side, setting you off balance and making you slam your temple on an old coffee table from your grand mother's old building, making you black out. By the time you wake up, Larson is preparing hangover medication while cooking Denver omelets and pancakes for the group. Richard's out on the floor with Will in the other room taking a shower. You got up, and noticed something with a smirk.

You still have two bottles left.

Author's Note

little slpergy, but this is how my friends are, so this is not unrealistic in my eye