Blown Out Of Proportion

The sounds of chatter and merry drinking reached the Private’s sensitive ears, making him wonder if there's ever a stop to it. Sure, he likes getting plastered as much as the next stallion, but he sure didn't like the raping of the ears that came with it. It's not as if you can find a bar without unnecessary loudness, that sort of comes with it; these ponies are drunk and some of them already on that line, but still. Ponyville’s bar is the only one that is near silent, but even then, he wouldn't exactly call a three hour train ride and a twenty minute walk to it convenient.

Canterlot is nice, refined even, if you can look past all of the less-than friendly higher-ups and the pompous elite that litter the richer estate. Now, the same thing applies if you can see past the for-sale ponies and the ones that constantly ask for some of your hard earned bits to get themselves a little drink. But, the city has a charm to it, one that can't be replicated. And it's always nice to see the Princesses, even if their behind fifty thousand doors and guards. That's probably the reason why he enlisted. And, well, there's a guard that he has eyes on.

There's certain benefits to joining the Royal Guard. For one, well toned flanks as far as the eye can see. It's a literal sea of rumps to feast the eyes on. Two, you get front row seats to the two most perfect flanks in the entire world; they could make your junk break with their perfect-ness. Three, the attention of being a guard. Guaranteed ass. And five? Probably the healthcare, the healthcare is pretty nice.

The thing with guards is, is that they tend to twist things. Whether it'd be their excuse as to why they were late to their post, or how they totally beat up this stallion who gave the Princesses trouble. They do all these things because they can. It's fun, and who doesn't like to stroke their ego every once in awhile? But, you'll have to be a certain kind of drunk, you just have to, to actually pull it off. And the Private could feel himself approaching that sweet, sweet level of total drunkenness.

And so, the story begins.

Standing up, the Private tapped his hoof on his table three times, gathering the looks of everyone in the small bar. “L-Listen up everypony, IIIIIIII have a story to hic to tell.” He could tell he was plastered due to the fact that he found the prospect of a foal’s birthday party funny. The chatter ceased and he now had the full attention of drunks, guards, and the bartender. “It's totallllllyyyyy true, and if you say it hic it isn't, you're just a hater.” Plopping down on top of the circular, wooden table, he cursed to himself as he spilled his precious alcohol.

Licking his lips, he began his tale of epicness. “Okay, so, you now Nightmare Moon?” Everyone who was sober nodded, and everyone who was drunk violently swung their head back and forth. “Yeah, well, uh, I defeated her.” Burping loudly, he continued. “Questions?” A single mare guard raised her hoof.

“Didn't the Elements defeat her?” She asked quietly, as if she is wondering why in the hell she was enabling this poor, drunk fool.

“Who? Okay, I’ll tell you how. So, I was like ‘You're hic evil’ and she was like ‘Hahaha’, so then I just did a super cool backflip and music started playing like ‘dun dun dundundundundun dun dun dun dundundun’ and I ran across the wall, shooting fireballs at her with just my hooves. And uhhhhhhhhh, oh yeah, she exploded.” The designated drunks clapped wildly, whilst the only sensible ponies in the establishment groaned, knowing they had nothing better to do than listen to the Private. It's not really sensible, but whatever, my story, fuck you.

“Oh, and Discord? Beat him, too. IIIIIIIII, uhhhh, snuck behind him with a halberd, and sliced right in ha- hic half!” The Private slowly moved his hooved in a slicing motion, doing a ‘whoosh’ sound. Heeeee was alllll like ‘Oh, nooooooooooo, I have dead’ and fell over died. I teabagged him and then the Princesses came out and threw a big party and theeeeeeen said ‘Oh, Private Private’, that's my, uh, name, ‘You hic saved us all!’.” Once again, sporadic clapping and distaste.”

“My dad works for Princess Celestia, he’ll hack your job if you say this is false. Queen Chrysa- Chrysa- Queen Ugly Babby, she bowed before me because of my awesomeness and sheeeeee was like hic like this ‘OH NOE, it's Private Private, the unstoppable warrior of epicness, I can't best to hope you.’ Then I punched her in the face and she went flying across the country. And her Changeling army? I headshotted them with my awesome halberd. And I saved the hic the day again, Woody!”

One guard decided to begin smashing his head onto his table repeatedly, most likely with the intent of causing some sort of head trauma. I wouldn't blame him, this story is fucking stupid.

“Tireeeeek. Shrek? I dunno, but he was a big guy. For you, he said to me. But that wasn't enough. Sooooooo, I charged my Ultra-Giga-Multi-Lazer-9001, and shot him in the chin. As he hic cried for his mama, I ripped him in half with my bare hooves and ate his organs, then some supermodels came out and we did the sexies.” The Private broke into his hysterics as I begin to ponder how this story came out. Not well, is the diagnosis.

“Can you please stop?” One guard said abruptly, raising his hooves in protest. The Private ceased laughing at once and stared intently at the guard with a death glare.

“SHUT hic UP, you hater. You just don't have the super elite skills I ha-” The Private fell into a deep sleep, satisfied with his drunken antics.

I’m so sorry you read this.