“How many princesses live in Equestria with you?” I asked, the faint silhouettes of my ceiling fan slicing above my bed.

Cadance groaned at my bedside. “How late is it?”

I fired a glance at my night stand, and squinted at the fluorescent green numbers on my alarm clock. “Uh, 4.”

“How fortuitous,” she mumbled. “I don’t think I’m getting any sleep at this rate.” A beat. “And four, to answer your question. My aunt’s and my sister-in-law.”

“Ever heard of a game called ‘kill, fuck, marry?’”

“Have you ever ever heard of the part where I said ‘My Aunt’s and sister-in-law?”

“Oops.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “How about==”

“Choose your next words wisely,” Cadance warned.

I winced slightly, but was confident my follow-up wasn’t too threatening to my well-being. “Who would you choose to have your back in your bar fight?”

Cadance rolled over and peered up at me, her blue eyes still remarkably piercing in the midst of night. “Uh… that’s actually a good question.” An audible “hm,” escaped her as she pondered. Moments later her mulling curiosity reappeared. “Who are we fighting, just a drunken idiot?”

“Yes, but you’re both also drunk.”

“Oooof, that’s a game changer. I was going to say Auntie Celestia, because she’s the responsible one, but she’s the worst when she’s drunk.”

“No BS type of drunk?”

“Not even,” she said, sighing. “She’s the ‘ya talkin’ to me’ type of drunk that will challenge anyone to anything. The ‘horn-measuring’ type, I guess.”

“Hm.” I nodded in understanding. “There’s got to be at least a funny story or two there.”

“Ha! You’d think so, but none that jump to mind,” she said. “Well, actually, last time we went out—you wouldn’t believe it, she has this pet bird, or a “phoenix,” do you have those?”

“Fire bird?” I asked.

“Yes! Like, it molted, so its feather fall to the ground in fiery flame and ash, and Celestia has had like 20 martinis, so she sees her bird do it, and grabs a cigarette lighter.”

“Oh no.”

“She lights one of her wings on fire, and goes ‘think you can handle the heat, bitch, I’m SPF-3000,’ then we went to the hospital.” She stifled a chuckle. “Good times, good times.”

“So, if damage control weren’t a factor—”

“Celestia, easy. If it were sober Celestia, also Celestia. Honestly, there’s not a scenario where I wouldn’t want Celestia.”

I propped myself up on an elbow and listened intently. “Buuuuuut.”

“But, I’m probably taking Luna anyways.”

“Sparklight not get a chance?”

Even in the pitch I could see the eye roll. “Twilight, and I don’t know, not much of a fighter. Drunk, definitely not.”

“And Luna?”

“Drunk or sober I think she reacts the same.”

“Which is?”

“Swift kick to the groin, maybe an uppercut to the jaw. I probably wouldn’t have to get out of my chair. They’d probably be down for the count, and she’d take another shot.”

I scratched the back of my neck and failed to suppress a yawn. “Ya know, for world leaders, they seem kind of uh… psychotic.”

“Oh they can be. Usually not but they can be. We’re like hurricanes! Under the perfect conditions we’re dangerous, but only under those. Most of the time we’re harmless, and pretty rad rulers I’d say. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Totally.”

“Damn skippy!”

Author's Note

I published two short chapters just because I felt like writing. Why not? Not a ton of effort into either of these, but this isn't supposed to be a high effort story. I just worry they're not super funny. Comedy takes time and the quicker I write these the worse I feel they are.

Oh well. Hope someone enjoys 'em.