Tempest Shadow’s face was lit by the flickering flames of her blunt. It was an Emily Blunt. Real dank strain. “Okay, listen up Cutie Mark Crusaders, it’s time for a dank-ass story, and maybe I’m a little drunk and shouldn’t tell stories to kids when I’m drunk, but fuck it, amirite? So this is the very true not at all made up story of how I lost my horn.”
“Oh goody,” said Sweetie Belle. More like Sweetie Blazed after she smoked that dank kush.
“Okay, so this starts with the dankest, illest invention known to pony kind of the past twenty years. Not since the concept of hotboxing has such a good idea appeared. Of course, I was its originator. Fillies, prepare your minds to be blown by the concept of... Alcoholic bread.”
Scootaloo gasped. “Wow, so my abusive father can get drunk even easier? That sounds great! I love watching mommy cry.”
Tempest was pissed. “Seriously, shut the fuck, you little shit. Abusive parenting builds character. You don’t want to know what my daddy did to me when he got drunk, but it involved yiffing and vascaline.”
“Oka,y okay,” said Scootaloo, “just tell your fucking story already.”
Tempest cleared her throat and took another swig of applejack Daniels. “Okay, So, this one time, my friend from Coltorado told me that in Coltorado they sold alcoholic bread. We thought that was pretty cool.”
Applebloom spoke up. “Miss Fizzle, weren’t y’all like, twelve?”
Tempest frowned. “What, y’all didn’t experiment with drinking at a young age to escape the harsh realities of living in a broken family?”
Apple Bloom fidgeted. “Uh, no? I just listened to Pet Sounds and cut myself.”
“Alright, well, me and my friends, we really thought alcoholic bread was a great idea. But it turns out that our friend—Let’s call him HumyWriter—was just shitting us. Bread does have alcohol in the creation process—from the yeast— but it almost all evaporates during the baking process. Which sucks, because alcoholic bread sounds awesome.”
“Well actually,” Scootaloo chimed in, passing the puff to Sweetie, “Derpy has alcoholic muffins.”
“Who’s Derpy?” Tempest inquired.
“Oh she’s this local mailmare with really fucked up eyes who’s always crashing into shit. She can’t see straight because she’s perpetually drunk on alcoholic muffins. It’s sad, really. I think CPS is going to take away Dinkie soon.”
Tempest was left wide eyed. “Wow. Apparently everypony in Equestria really sucks at parenting. Anyway, we thought alcoholic bread was a cool idea, so we set out to create it.”
“And did you?”
“Well, we did some research, and we discovered the yeast we would need, would be from an Ursula Major’s yeast infection. I, being the bravest, stepped into a cave and collect some.
“But tragedy struck! An Ursula major was not there to greet me. No, not even an Ursula minor! What terror stood before me, you ask?
“It was inspector Javert who stood there!”
Turns out Liquor Stores are closed on Sunday in Texas, So I’m Sober Now Unfortunately.
Author's Note
Context
Turns out Liquor Stores are closed on Sunday in Texas, So I’m Sober Now Unfortunately.
“Inspector Javert?!” all three fillies gasped at once. Apple Bloom followed up. “You mean from Les Mis? I love that musical! I have a shrine to John Valve John in my room. I want him to plow my fields!”
Tempest gagged. “Jesus fuck, what the hell! First story Super manages to publish with me in it, and it’s a total fucking shit show! Just, what the actual fuck, Apple Bloom, what the fuck. You’re a fucking filly. He’s like... at least forty at the start of the novel. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are we having this conversation? Why am I in this shitty-ass story? Where’s the nearest liquor store so I can forget this fucking conversation and get shloshed? Aughhhh!!!”
The CMC watched in discomfort. Applebloom whispered to her comrades, “This is getting weeeird.”
Scootaloo whispered back, “You’re one to talk. Fucking Humie.”
Tempest took a deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry. That was uncalled for. Can I finish the story?”
“I really like your mane!” Sweetie Belle squeaked.
Tempest looked at her with a squint.
Apple Bloom spoke up. “Please excuse her; she’s retarded.”
Twilight Sparkle suddenly jumped from the bushes. “Hey, come on. You can’t just call ponies retarded! You should know better, AB!”
“Twilight, fuck off; you’re not even in this fucking story. Just once, pull the God damn stick out of your ass, just this once, okay?”
“Yeah, well fuck you too, asswipe. I hope Scootaloo’s parents start abusing you too.”
Tempest shadow observed the exchange uncomfortably. “Okay, seriously, is Super Trampoline okay? He’s usually not like this?”
Twilight shadow flipped them all off with a wing and skulked back to the bushes.
Apple Bloom apologized. “Sorry about that. Ever since I fucked up a potion last week, Starbutt’s been really riding my ass with her PC strapon.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever? Can I finish my fucking story?”
“Please do.”
Tempest threw her empty Applejack Daniels into the air and exploded it with a burst from her horn. The three fillies oohed and Ahhed.
“Okay, so, Inspector Javert was there, and kept singing about wanting me to bring him a sandwhich. I think he was drunk or something. I tried to reason with him, tried to explain to him that I was in the process of creating alcoholic bread, but didn’t have sandwich supplies yet. But he wouldn’t have any of it. He kept speaking gibberish, and it looked like he was getting angrier. I started to back away, but then he pulled out a gun, and shot me. I fired a desperate deflection shield, but the bullet glanced off of it, and instead of lodging itself into my head, it broke in two. One shard glazed my face, giving me this sick-ass scar around my eye. But the main fragment shattered my horn and my sense of identity.”
The fillies gasped. “Oh my gosh! I had no idea!” Apple Bloom sputtered.
“Dude, that’s metal as fuck!” Scootaloo shouted.
“I really like her mane!” Sweetie Belle chirped.
Again her friends stared at her with sad condescension.
“So yeah, after that, I hoof stomped Inspector Javert to death. They had to get a robotic replacement of him for the musical. That’s why he comes off as so unemotional and unfeeling.”
“And did you ever end up alcoholic bread?” Apple Bloom asked.
“I wish. Then I’d be rich and drunk, instead of stuck in this wonky-ass story.”
