It was a long day of dealing with countless brawls, escorting beyond drunk mares and colts out of the bar, and cleaning up spills along the bar countertop. You smile, hearing the door of the small bar close for the final time that night. You had had enough for one day, and just wanted to go home and relax by eating a half-decent meal and tuning into your nightly program.
The bar is quiet, as you finish up your shift by cleaning up your workspace. All you can smell is the alcohol and cider stained on your work apron. The smell has become too familiar to even phase you anymore, seeing you had been working there for two months now, and had heard a fair share of stories from the customers that ended up drunk as hell. Some of the stories were interesting to you, while others you could tell was just the alcohol talking.
Even though it paid low, you still liked hearing the stories in your occupation. It entertained you, gave you a good laugh every once and awhile, and got you through your shift fast. You had had both good shifts and just plain shitty shifts, your worst being during Equestria’s version of the 4th of July. Sure you were paid well, but dealing with the constant drunks was nothing short of ridiculous.
You planned to leave this occupation, once you raised enough money to get into Celestia’s University For Talented Unicorns. The more advanced school that only certain unicorns could get into. You had wished to attend that school since you were a filly, but the price to get into the school was five thousand bits. In your occupation, you manage to make twenty bits each month, while keeping the rest of your necessities payable by merely a thread.
You had managed to only earn two-hundred bits in your large goal, but you don’t mind working here for now. If it got you closer to achieving your dream of being a scientist for the Canterlot Observatorium, then you’d take every single agonizing second of dealing with drunk mares and colts with any bit of sanity you had.
You untie your apron, and fold it up, seeing you were planning to take it to the nearest laundromat. It needed a good cleaning, and had not been washed for a couple days. The last thing you needed was to be smelling like alcoholic beverages and cigarette smoke, especially considering that those scents can soak into somepony’s fur and even after countless baths and showers, it would still linger.
Once the apron is folded up, you grab it, and proceed to shutting off the lights. The medium sized building goes dark, and you carefully make your way past the rows of tables, not wanting to knock down any chairs stacked on top of the tables. You just wanted to go home and relax, until you’d have to come back here the next day for another round of drunk roulette.
You exit, locking the entrance door, and changing the open sign to closed. Luna’s moon is surprisingly bright, making it easier to find your way home. You lived in a small apartment complex next to the florist shop, and even though it wasn’t the best living conditions, you knew that you’d get out of that apartment someday.
Once the door is locked, you begin to walk to the nearest laundromat. This was your only stop for the night, because you had grown tired of the smell lingering off your work apron. You may have become used to the smell, but that didn’t mean you wanted to smell as if you had bathed in alcohol.
You stay along the sidewalk, watching for a certain somepony you had collided with before. It had happened just a few weeks ago; out of nowhere, Derpy Hooves ran into you, colliding you to the ground. Giving the pegasus’s eyesight, you just forgave her, but ever since then, you’ve watched for falling pegasi, seeing another pegasus was famous for running into ponies. The rainbow maned and tailed pegasus, Rainbow Dash.
“Pretty bad when I have to watch for falling pegasi,” you say to yourself.
You roll your eyes at your words, as you spot the laundromat not too far away. The bar wasn’t very far from the local laundromat. Only about a five minute walk. You smile, as you begin to trot a little faster, not noticing a pony walking on the opposite side of the street. Due to your own carelessness, you accidentally run into the pony, managing to knock them down.
“Nice one,” you speak to yourself in your mind.
You turn to the pony, holding out a hoof to help them up, but your eyes immediately widen, noticing a deep wound along the pony’s abdomen. The pony is still conscious, as you ponder on what to do. The streets were dead, all of the shops were closed, you didn’t have any way of calling the hospital, and you couldn’t just leave this pony to fend for themselves. It was your fault anyways for knocking them down.
You notice the wound starting to leak a large amount of blood, but don’t resort to panicking. You were smart enough to know that in a medical situation, the last thing not to do was panic. If anything, stopping the bleeding was the best thing you could do right now. That’s when you remember that you had your apron. It could be used as a bandage for now, until you could get this pony to professional help. However, in order to get it on tight enough, you’d have to move the body, which would make it worst, and even make the bleeding progress.
“Okay. I gotta slow down the bleeding, so I need to lay the body flat,” you think to yourself.
The pony doesn’t even fight you, as you slowly move their body to where they are flat on their back, immediately causing the bleeding to slow down. You let out a long breath, attempting to get the pony to speak to you.
“Hey! Can you hear me?!” you yell.
The pony nods their head in response, as you proceed to asking another question.
“What’s your name?” you ask.
The pony doesn’t answer, and you wonder why. If they are conscious, why can’t they speak? You attempt to ask again, but you get the same response. You groan in annoyance, as you examine the wound closer, immediately recognizing it as a slash from a large knife. The wound is still fresh as well, meaning this had only occurred not even a half hour ago. You knew you had to get this pony to safety, and the wound disinfected.
“Where to go?” you think to yourself.
You suddenly realize that the bar was a perfect place to go, seeing alcohol would be perfect in this situation. It would clean the wound of infection and kill all the pain once you got the pony drunk enough. You nearly facehoof yourself for not thinking of that solution earlier, not to mention the bar had a phone, and you could call the hospital from there.
“I swear I’m an idiot sometimes,” you say to yourself.
While keeping the pony flat on their back, you slowly begin to drag them back in the direction of the bar. You knew it was a long drag, but you were a pretty strong unicorn, and could… Once again, you wanted to facehoof yourself, realizing that you were A MAGICAL UNICORN WHO COULD USE MAGIC! You waste no time, and carefully levitate the pony being careful not to move them too much.
Thanks to your somewhat-smart mind and instincts, you manage to make it back to the bar quickly, and unlock the door of the building entrance. Slowly and carefully, you enter the building, and set the pony against the wall with their abdomen still flat. With no hesitation, you rush to flick on the lights, grab a medium sized shot glass, and fill it with the strongest alcoholic beverage you had titled, Fiery Nightmare.
Only the most tolerant alcoholics could handle a single shot of Fiery Nightmare. It was a very powerful drink that could get somepony drunk in one swig. You yourself had never taken a swig of any strong alcohol, but had had some cider with fellow employees before. Cider never did manage to get you drunk, but did manage to calm your nerves on a bad day.
You watch as the small shot of Fiery Nightmare begins to make a hissing noise. The dark liquid’s smell also manages to penetrate your nostrils, causing a look of disgust to form upon your face. The smell is very unpleasant, immediately giving you a severe headache, as you approach the pony, holding the small shot glass of the content in an aura of magic.
“This is going to hurt like hell, but I need you to try and hold still. This will help to kill all the bacteria in your wound,” you say to the pony.
“What in Equestria is that concoction?” speaks the pony.
You jump at the sound of the pony’s words, but continue on with disinfecting the wound.
“It’s strong stuff, so take a deep breath and prepare for a lot of pain,” you conclude.
The pony sighs then nods their head, as you slowly pour the alcoholic beverage evenly into the wound. Almost immediately, the pony screams and begins to cuss at you from the massive pain that they had just endured. The wound sizzles from the alcohol killing the bacteria, and the pony continues to cuss, but calms down, as the sizzling sound subsides.
The pony has tears rolling from their eyes, but at the same time, they are relaxed. That horrid smelling concoction had done the trick, but now you had to sedate the pony.
“I’m going to give you two options,” you say to the pony. “Would you rather deal with the pain until I can get you into an ambulance, or would you rather have instant relief? I still gotta bandage that wound so it doesn’t bleed anymore, so pain or no pain? Take your choice.”
The pony knew exactly what you meant, and immediately, their face scrunches at the thought of what you were going to do next.
“Very well, just be quick about it,” the pony quickly agrees.
You nod your head, as you walk back to the alcohol fountains to retrieve yet another glass of the Fiery Nightmare. As you pour the beverage into the glass, you decide to get some information on how they had ended up with a giant slash on their abdomen.
“So, what happened?” you ask.
From across the bar, the pony answers you back.
“Robbers,” he bluntly replies.
That made sense to you, seeing robberies were not uncommon in Ponyville. You grab the shot glass of the horrid alcoholic beverage, and make your way back over to the pony.
“Alright, bottoms up,” you say strictly. “No matter what it takes, I need you to swallow the whole thing. It’s going to be hard, but do your best to get it down.”
The pony nods, then you proceed to pouring the small shot of alcohol into their mouth, immediately noticing resistance. You clamp the pony’s muzzle shut, preventing them from spitting it out. The pony fights you, so you decide to give them a push of motivation.
“I know it’s bad, but come on, you need to swallow it,” you say to them.
The pony stops fighting you, and quickly manages to swallow the lurid content. You release your grip from the pony’s muzzle, and back away, as the pony begins to cough.
“What in Celestia’s name was that?!” they ask through coughs.
“Some sort of concoction called Fiery Nightmare,” you reply.
“More like “Shitty Nightmare,” they stated.
You chuckle, taking the shot glass in an aura of magic and setting it on one of the tables. You already can see the effects of the alcohol taking hold.
“In about one minute, you won’t be able to feel anything. Trust me, I’ve worked here long enough to know how this crap effects “weaker” victims,” you say to them.
“You’re right, I can barely feel anything,” they reply. “It feels like I’m floating.”
“That’s completely normal,” you assure. “Now, let’s get that wound covered with something.”
You grab your apron, unfold it, and gently place the alcohol stained piece of cloth over the open wound. You know that there’s no need to apply any other alcohol to the wound, seeing the first dose most likely did the trick.
“I need you to apply pressure to the wound, until some professional help can get you proper treatment,” you say to them.
The pony just nods to you, taking one hoof, and applying pressure to the wound. You watch as your apron begins to develop a red stain, but you don’t care. At least now you didn’t have to stop at the laundromat when this was all over. Knowing that the wound is clean and the situation was much more under control now, you walk to where the phone was hung on the wall, and call the Ponyville Hospital.
While giving the mare on the other line of the call the information needed for an ambulance escort, the bar remains quiet, as you watch your patient succumb to the effects of the alcohol. Your patient looks as if they are in a happy trance, not feeling any pain or being aware of where they were or who they even were.
The call ends, and you put the phone back on the hook, walking toward the pony. Until an ambulance got to the bar, you had to watch your patient, even though you were pretty sure that everything was under control. You take a seat next to your patient, hoping for them to just stay silent in their trance, but your hopes are quickly crushed, as your patient speaks to you.
“Well, hello there, friend! How are you in this field?!” they speak.
Wow, your patient is drunker than hell, and even though you’d rather just sit and wait for the ambulance, you decide to engage in conversation with your drunk patient.
“Tired,” you reply with your best happy voice.
“Really! Me too! Me sleepy, sleepy, sleepy!” they reply.
“Oh great. An annoying drunk,” you speak in your mind.
You hope for your patient to just stay quiet, but they continue to irritate you with stupid questions.
“I had a dream once, you know,” they say to you. “I once dreamed of settling down with Princess Luna, and living in the Canterlot Castle.”
“Yep, you are definitely drunk,” you speak in your mind.
“How about you!? Did you ever have any big dreams!?” they ask.
“Oh, just shut up already!” you shout in your mind. “Just a little longer.”
“Yeah, I do have a dream,” you say.
You hope for your patient just to fall off of their state of asking questions out of their curiosity, but once again, your hopes are crushed.
“You do! Tell me, friend! What is your dream?!” they ask.
You cuss violently in your mind, wanting your patient to just go to sleep, but you know that if you want to keep a drunk happy, you just go with whatever they want. You decide to speak the truth, because you know that everything being spoke here wouldn’t be remembered anyways.
“My dream is to work in the Canterlot Observatorium someday,” you speak. “However, before I can ever get to that level, I need to somehow scrape together a price of five-thousand bits to get into Celestia’s University For Gifted Unicorns. Only then, will I ever have a chance of working in the Canterlot Observatorium.”
“I took this job, hoping that it would pay decent, but I haven’t even made up a quarter of the money I need to get into Celestia’s school. I manage to make twenty bits a month in this job, which is barely enough to get me through my monthly rent! Heh, and the thing is I swore to never take a job involving alcohol, considering I grew up around two parents that thrived off of it! Why am I here!? Why am I working a job that I hate!? Why am I such an idiot!?”
You begin to break down, even though you know that all you are saying is completely pointless. Your patient doesn’t understand a single word you are saying, but you continue.
“I ran away from home, because I couldn’t take it anymore! Every night, my mom and dad yelling at me for no reason, and not being able to stop it! Countless beatings! My mom and dad performing sexual acts right before my eyes when I was just a filly! Things that kids shouldn’t be seeing, I saw! They scarred me for life, and I swore to never be associated with what scarred me for life, yet here I am! Here I am in a goddamn bar! I’m an idiot! Stupid! Reckless! I’ll never make it to my dream! Not if I’m stupid enough to wander back to what ruined me!”
Tears begin to roll from your eyes, as you wipe them away, hearing the sound of sirens approaching. You sniffle, not expecting your patient to say anything, but you are surprised as you hear your patient speak again.
“Hey, it’s okay, friend. We all make mistakes, and in the end I can guarantee that you will reach your dream, just like I know I’ll reach mine someday!”
“Keep dreaming,” you think to yourself.
You are flattered by your patient’s words, but know that all that is being said now will be forgotten the next day, and that you had wasted your breath on a drunk pony who will have a nasty hangover in the morning. You see the colors of ambulance lights shine through the glass door entrance of the bar, and realize that it’s time for you and your unnamed patient to part ways.
EMT’s rush into the bar, along with a stretcher, as you rise back to your feet. A young EMT approaches you, and asks you a few questions regarding the situation. You answer with whatever information you can give, as your patient is lifted onto the stretcher and carried out into the ambulance. The last time you saw an EMT was before your life went all chaotic, and you managed to hurt yourself pretty good while playing with your friend.
The EMT thanks you for helping the injured pony, shakes your hoof, and exits the building, where you are left to close up the bar for the second time. Instead, you wander to the alcohol dispensers, pour yourself a shot of scotch, and raise it to the air. You don’t know what possesses you to do this, but cider wasn’t going to calm your nerves this time.
“Bottoms up,” you say, tipping the liquid into your mouth and swallowing it faster than it entered.
You set the shot glass down with a loud thud, proceed to closing up the bar again, and finally head home, even though you had already missed your nightly program, and probably wasn’t going to eat anything. You had been through a lot tonight, and if anything, you just wanted to go to sleep. That would have until you got home though. You wasn’t going to sleep on the streets. You had already done enough of that in your past.
TWO WEEKS LATER
It had been two weeks since you saved that pony, and in those two weeks, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. You had just continued to work your same ol’ weekly shifts at your occupation. The bar had been investigated by police for any signs of foul play, which you could understand, considering the conditions of what happened that night. You had been questioned, but you were quickly found clean of any sort of foul play.
After all the commotion of night had subsided, you returned to making your monthly payment of twenty bits, but within the two weeks, your rent had went up, due to gossip among the apartment complex. Soon, you’d be evicted from your apartment, and would be forced to live on the streets again. You refused to ever go back to your real home.
It’s your final day on the job in the bar, seeing you just wanted to earn your final payment, then… well, you didn’t know what was next. You walk up to the bar door, admiring your workplace/hell one last time, before you’d have to find somewhere new to work. You sigh, as you begin to push in on the entrance door, but are stopped by a familiar voice shouting for you. You turn, only to see a very fancy-dressed pony trotting toward you. It’s hard for you to recognize them at first, but you immediately recognize the pony as the same one you saved two weeks ago.
You wonder what they could want, and you have nothing better to do, so you turn to the pony, now only six feet from you. The pony is a well dressed stallion, dressed in a black tuxedo with a red tie, and even a fancy top hat. You wonder who this stallion is that you saved that night.
“Didn’t expect to see you again,” you say.
“Oh, don’t worry. I just came by to say thank you, and to also give you something for saving my life. If it were not for you, I wouldn’t be standing here, so here.”
He holds out an envelope, so you take it, and proceed to opening it, until you are stopped.
“Don’t open it yet,” he says. “I’d like to properly introduce myself, seeing I never told you my name that night. My name Maximillion Star, and I am the CEO of Maximillion Inc. in Canterlot. As a thanks for saving my life that night, and taking care of me in every way that you could, I thought I’d give you what you need to live a better life.”
You knew of Maximillion Inc. It is a company in Canterlot that produces many products specifically for the princesses, but also produces products for many other high names in Canterlot. You had an idea of what he gave you, and retaliate.
“You don’t have to give me anything, Mr. Star,” you say. “I appreciate it, but I can’t accept your money. Besides, I’m the one who bumped into you, remember?”
“Yes, but if it hadn’t been for you bumping into me, I would’ve bled to death. Also, I didn’t give you money. I told you that I gave you what you need to live a better life.”
Your eyes bulge, realizing what was really in the letter.
“Open it, my friend,” he says.
You realize that he’s not taking no for an answer, and open the envelope carefully, being careful not to damage what was inside. Inside is a folded paper, which you slip out of the compact envelope with your magic, and unfold. Your eyes fill with tears, as you see the admission letter into Celestia’s University For Gifted Unicorns within your aura of magic. You are speechless, as you don’t hesitate to hug Mr. Star, and cry tears of joy.
“How did you… you begin to ask, but are cut off by Mr. Star.
“I pulled some strings,” he confirms. “I paid your admission, and managed to persuade Celestia to give you a room on one of the 5-hoof campuses. I’ve also given you a starting ten-thousand bits worth of luxury, and promise to help you on payments, if you can keep you grades within A’s or B’s. Do we have a deal?”
Seeing you are too speechless to even say a word, you nod your head in agreement, and proceed to hugging Mr. Star again.
“I’ll be by after your shift to take you to Canterlot,” he says. “I hope to see only the best from you.”
With a tip of his top hat, Mr. Star turns from you and walks away. Your life just took a massive turn for the best, and you knew that you were one step closer to reaching your dream. As celebration for all that had just happened, you enter the bar, pour yourself a shot of scotch, and raise the shot glass into the air.
“Cheers,” you say, taking down your final shot of alcohol from the bar you hated, but nothing could ruin this moment for you, as you sit the shot glass down on the table and exhale a breath of success. The scotch may taste horrible, but soon you’d taste success beyond your wildest dreams.
