Just my luck, what is happening to me?
One evening, Trouble Shoes was drinking beer at a bar. He was so drunk, that he fell asleep and slumped over.
As the bar closed, its owner Braeburn tried to wake Trouble Shoes up, but he is still in deep slumber, snoring and drooling on the floor. He tried pushing the big Clydesdale, but to no avail, as he is too heavy. Then Party Favor bounced through the door, and in his wall-eyed carelessness kicked Braeburn’s head, knocking him unconscious.
After several attempts to wake Trouble up, Party Favor took a can of Budweiser beer and poured it on the poor big stallion’s head. Trouble’s drowsy eyes finally opened, and he saw the pesky blue unicorn standing and smiling right in front of him.
"Hey, Clydie Boy," Party Favor said. "Wanna go pronking with me?"
"Just my luck, I sure want to hit your stupid face with a baseball bat right now," Trouble Shoes slurred, and then he fell back to sleep. "I would like eight cans of Budweiser plea — " he snored.
"You better not say no," the little unicorn replied. "Because I will make you smile so much, you’ll never cry again. And where we’ll be going, there’s gonna be lots of beer for you to drink."
The hulking horse of a pony got up, and his ears shot to the ceiling, when that word "beer" was uttered.
"Did you say, ’beer’?!" Trouble asked. He no longer seemed sleepy. Perhaps the desire for beer could keep him awake, until he slumps into slumber again.
"Yes, beer. And lots of it in my place."
The blue unicorn hopped away, with a mad smile still on his miserable face. Trouble hesitated at first, but then he jumped around. As he does so, he caused an earthquake that caused many buildings to collapse, and he and Party Favor fell into the abyss of his (un)doing …
—
Trouble Shoes found himself at a drive thru. All around him are hundreds of brown and white Clydesdales, sipping and chugging bottles of Budweiser and other beer brands. In their drunken rage they threw bottles and anything they could grab their hooves on (even other Clydesdales) at a huge television screen, displaying an awful sci-fi show from the 80’s. Then a Clydesdale, wearing a birthday cake for a hat, grabbed Trouble Shoes and threw him at the TV …
—
Trouble Shoes found himself at the same bar in his dream, but in the morning. The sun’s blinding rays have flooded the bar through the windows, as Philomena perched herself on his back and crowed like a rooster. He got up on his four legs, and Philomena clucked and flew away to peck at bread crumbs. He saw Braeburn, sleeping at the counter, with several bottles and cans of beer by his side.
"Just my luck," Trouble Shoes muttered. "What kind of night is this?" He looked into his bottle, and got sucked into a world of pain. It was a brightly lit TV studio blazing with bright, flashing blue and white colours. In front of the studio are two great round windows, displaying what appears to be some-pony's point of view. He felt as though he has been dragged into a talk show that is hosted by none other than Discord himself. "And now," he muttered, "where am I?"
"A world of pain, buddy, a world of pain!" whined out a squeak voice. It sounds like none other than that of that nuisance, Party Favor, but in helium.
"And just my luck again," the Clydesdale complained. "Are there any bottles of beer I can take to relieve my suffering, and pass my time away?"
"You're inside my head!" Party Favor happily cried. He seemed rather ignorant of Trouble Shoes' cries, or that he prefers to respond in his twisted attitude. "Or more precisely, that big mess of a mind that I consist."
"Now, what am I supposed to do here?"
"Well, Mr. Clown Shoes, you can have a seat," that absent-minded blue unicorn responded. "Within my mind, I'll keep you like a cockroach for further studying. Enjoy your new prison -- I mean "home"." He laughed afterwards.
"Oh, and did I forget that I can dream stuff in my mind?" Many beer bottles suddenly appeared in front of Trouble Shoes, and he desperately started chugging out more beer until he passed into slumber again. He shrunk into a vortex, and popped into Dreamland, where he floated in its blueish void. He paddled his legs in order to swim through this strange realm, as all he could see in the blue are hundreds of stars and strange creatures. Some were like disembodied bicycle wheels and walking lamp-posts, having rather formalised meetings that usually end in a food fight. Some were clocks, piles of paper, and mugs, marching in processions that went around, under, and over him. Some were towering, enormous plastic bottles, glaring down at his shrinking, cowering frame.
"I seriously want to get back to the real world!" Trouble Shoes groaned. However, he noticed a bottle of Budweiser zipping into his right hoof. It quickly forced him to pour the bottle's contents to his mouth, and flew away. "Wait up! Wait up!" the miserable Clydesdale cried, as he swam his way to catch the bottle.
As he caught the bottle with his teeth, however, he landed on some hard, blackened ground. When he got up to his feet, he saw that the blue void is now a terrifying volcanic realm, with strong, harsh metal music ripping through the air. A brown she-gryphon with a white head quickly landed right in front of the poor Clydesdale, scaring him with her sudden arrival.
"Welcome to boot camp, dweeb," the she-gryphon smiled. "The name's 'Gilda'. Everything you see around you is awesomeness, and I'll be your coach." She peered in closely towards his nervous face. "You miss the taste of beer, do you?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," he answered. "I love beer, and I sure want another bottle." Gilda put a mechanical glove on her right claw, and shoved it towards Trouble Shoes. As she moved her claw around, Trouble Shoes was shaken around the air, and then dropped to the ground and raised to the air for several dizzying times.
"This is how you'll learn to be less dweeb-like, you flip-flop!" she cried, as she maliciously laughed away. Then a big hole appeared in the sky, and sucked the Clydesdale, the she-gryphon, and the whole landscape into its maw.
—
The next thing that the both of them knew was that they bumped into Double Diamond and Braeburn, who were using a telescope-like device to extract them out of Party Favor's tormented mind. While Gilda flew away in a fuss, Double Diamond got buried deep into the big Clydesdale's right side.
"Can you just get off my face, dude?!" the white horse grunted. His muffled speech has been blocked by a mass of fat flesh. The strained skiing pony glowed and burned into Trouble Shoes' coat, causing him to yelp and leap away into the sky from the pain of it all. At least he landed on a pond, where his impact caused great waves that washed up a flood that swept into Ponyville, allowing some ponies to have a brief surfing competition.
Author's Note
The original story was shorter, but I expanded it to comply with the "minimum 1,000 word limit". It can be a chance to continue Trouble Shoes' misadventure.
I made Trouble Shoes to be drunk because he looks like a Clydesdale, and Clydesdales are associated with Budweiser.
The reason why I made Double Diamond a pony who can shine and burn is because he looks so white, he might be a living star. Also, this GIF made me imagine Gilda as a dream-walker.
