Crazy Pastel Pony World (Oh Snap I Banged a Pony)

by DontWannaKnow

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Human, Dark, Comedy, Romance
Length: 11787

Standard self-insert fic

A depressed alcoholic tries to kill himself and ends up in "crazy pastel pony world" as he calls it. He is befriended by Rarity and they do drugs together. This is a self-insert fic, just for fun. Rated teen for implied sex (no actual descriptions). If you like it please thumb it etc etc blah blah.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-17 23:29:02 UTC

Crazy Pastel Pony World

This seems like a good place to start

The liquor store, checkout counter.

     The girl - young, attractive - scans the bottle again. Clearly a socially precocious individual, she reads me and determines exactly how much like herself she can act in this particular situation. Apparently she feels comfortable around me. Not surprising, I’m not threatening and we’re roughly the same age.

     “I’m sorry this thing is just totally fucking up right now,” she tells me with an air of mock exasperation. What if I were an old lady or something. I doubt she’d talk like that. Context. It interests me

     “It’s trying to tell me you’re buying a three hundred and fifty dollar bottle of wine.”

     “I am” I point to the price tag.

     “Oh my god I didn’t even see that. Wow, high rollin’ dawg”

     The mind and context, it astounds me. Depending on who you are, the simple experience of buying champagne can be totally different than everyone else’s.

     “And it’s champagne just for the record.” I say, feigning condescension.

     “Oooooh well of course sir” – a little pretend revelation – “What’s the occasion?”

     “It’s my last night on Earth!” I twirl around and look to the sky, as if aliens were coming to take me away. Mock insanity. She laughs and as I walk out the door of the store we wave at each other.

What a fucking drag

     I just had to put on a little performance for some girl I didn’t even know. I could’ve declined but that would result in awkwardness, and awkwardness is just extra pain so I’m willing to dish out some false levity to avoid it. Still, interacting with people taxes the hell out of me. I’m tired of it. All of it.

     So now maybe you can start to imagine the reason I just spent my last week’s pay on a bottle of champagne. My last toast to myself. Tonight I would die.

     It all sounds so melodramatic and cliché because it is. Despite looking like a twenty-five year old man I’m a high school drama queen at heart. I’d even written an unofficial will to go with my suicide note. Oh the poignancy of it all!

    When I got back to my apartment I went to the kitchen and pulled out the nice goblet my parents had given to me for Christmas, popped the cork – with which I managed to bullseye an empty soda can on the counter – and then poured myself a glass of really really expensive booze. I looked at the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the corner and winked at myself. “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” I said to myself with an air of false humor. False. Even for myself I had to perform. But hey, the champagne was purely for show and maybe a few more poignancy points if one viewed it from a certain angle. The real stuff would come later.

     As much as I loved liquor I was getting sick of the daily grind of drinking myself awake, drinking all day, and then drinking myself back to sleep. Unfortunately I knew no other way of living. The first job I ever landed was a position on the bottling line at a small brewery with a very lenient boss. I was a fully-fledged alcoholic before there were even close to twenty-one candles on my birthday cake.

     I loved cocaine almost as much as booze, but it was constantly getting me in bad financial situations so I was sick of that too. As for the last of my trifecta of hell, I had a good friend who sold me dope at half price and even sometimes tossed me a bit if I was starting to detox. The rest of the time I stayed loaded on oxy which was actually prescribed to me for the chronic pain in my left leg. Wanna know why I left that job at the brewery? Because the forklift driver was more wasted than I was and shattered my femur. I have to walk with a cane if going any long distance, for instance the half mile between my place and the liquor store, but on the upside I can still stand on two feet and make my way around the apartment just fine. When I do have to truck it somewhere I try to imagine myself a gothic Doctor House. Still, I’m sick of doing that.

     This wasn’t an abrupt suicide attempt like my previous “cries for help” as pop psychology calls them. Everything was arranged so that I would go out comfortably with no pain (physical or emotional) and no regrets. Hence the ridiculously expensive champagne. I didn’t want to die without having tasted the best. After I finished the champagne I chucked the bottle into the trash and opened my fridge. I pulled out bottle of my favorite barleywine, popped the cap off on the counter – which always hurts but for some reason I do it to impress myself - putting on another show purely for my own benefit. Tiresome.

     So just so it’s clear I was sick of everything in my life and, being an extremely selfish person I decided to off myself. Fuck what my family thought. I wouldn’t have to be there for any of that shit. That was part of the allure of death: no worry or anxiety ever again.

     Besides my computer and the usual flotsam and jetsam on my desk there were some important items: two bottles of scotch, a Cuban cigar, some really good weed, a sheet of acid, an eight ball of coke, some black tar, and a whole bunch of pills.

     These were drugs that, if I took them individually over a reasonable period of time, I’d be fine with, but if ingested all at once would certainly result in death. To start I wadded up the sheet of acid and chewed it like gum as I lit up the cigar. I’m not a rich man; getting all this together took three months. That only strengthened my resolve. Finishing the barleywine I smashed the bottle on my desk and reached for the scotch.

     After the cigar, a massive heroin injection, and some great blow, I felt quite comfortable and ready to die. I felt fantastic, but being a veteran binger, I knew I still had a chance of living through this, and what tomorrow held in store if I should – bleeding mouth, bleeding nose, no idea if I slept or not, headaches, cravings, all around pain. I hate pain, that’s why I’ve latched on to crutches (literally and figuratively) to help me ‘live’ life, if you can call it that. To ensure my fate I took my entire months’ worth of Xanax and Oxy.

     After swallowing all the pills I re-lit my cigar and cracked a fifth of scotch. I’m very particular about scotch. Single malt, small glass, one ice cube. That way I get to experience a smorgasbord of different tastes as the ice melts and cuts the whiskey. It’s lovely. Normally with a scotch like this I’d savor every sip, but since I had so much I could afford a few big gulps. To an alcoholic a deep drink is just as quenching as a bottle of water is to an athlete.

     I can’t give a certain account of that night. I did all the drugs, I know that, there are new marks on my skin and a bitter taste in my mouth, but as to what I actually did, no clue. It was true insanity. Blackout. Completely unaware of my own existence – I suppose that’s the closest a nihilist such as myself can get to God?

     Violent spasms awoke me. Delirium Tremens. I couldn’t see, everything was a blur, but I detected motion around me.

     “Drink!” I cried out. Someone put a full glass in my hand, which I spilt in my next throes. It didn’t matter, it was just water.

     “No, alcohol. Please, alcohol.” I heard some rummaging and clanking and the same someone put a bottle in my hand. I tore off the cap and began gulping it down. As the fire of the liquor spread through me I noted that it tasted like apples. After finishing every drop the bottle rolled out of my hand and I fell into sweet, unconscious oblivion.

     I woke up screaming. I had no idea how long I’d been out but it was long enough that the opiate levels in my body were depleted and the all too familiar agony of withdrawal was setting in. I began thrashing like a madman and yelling for drugs. Suddenly I was being held down and there was a needle in my arm. I felt consumed by fire, and then once again merciful oblivion.

     I awoke a third time, in pain but seemingly stable. I reached up to rub my eyes only to have my left arm tugged back by an IV. Goddammit. I’d failed, and now I was in a hospital. Next would come a sober house, probation, and a whole bunch of shit I didn’t want to deal with. I should’ve just shot myself. I fell asleep again, hoping it was all a bad dream.

     Someone was shining a light in my eyes. I opened them and looked around. Everything was still blurry. The light burned and I felt a massive headache coming on.

     “Sir, can you hear me? Can you see me?” The doctor asked.

     “Yeah I can hear you, get that thing outta my face,” I replied pushing the light away.

     “What about your vision?” He inquired.

     “It’s…blurry.”

     “That should pass,” he told me.

     “Good to know,” I said, attempting nonchalance.

     “Do you know where you are?” The Doc continued.

     “A fucking hospital?” My head was throbbing and I was getting pretty goddamn irritated.

     “Yes,” he replied, “but…”

     “Doctor, not now,” a female voice chimed in, “he’s barely conscious. He won’t be able to process it.”

     “Yes,” the Doctor said with a strange urgency, “but we have to know how he…”

     “I told you, I’m working on that,” The woman sounded exasperated. “I’ve been analyzing the samples but it’s going to take time. This clearly wasn’t just some wild magic, it was a full-on trans-dimensional catastrophe. In all likelihood he has no idea how it happened.” I certainly had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but from the sound of it I had really fucked myself up this time. Was I paralyzed? Did I give myself some bizarre disease? Were my organs failing? I didn’t want to know. The doctor and the woman – I figured her for a lab technician – exchanged a few more curt mumblings I couldn’t hear, and then I heard her leave.

     At this point I was trying to get my eyes to work again, rubbing them and squinting to see if I could make anything out. As things slowly came into focus I took stock of my surroundings: my bed, a little table next to it, complete with small vase and flowers, some medical equipment, chairs for visitors, unicorn in a doctor’s outfit, a large window with drapes drawn, a…wait what the fuck? My eyes went wide as I looked back at the doctor. He had four legs, a mane, a tail, and a horn on his head. I was freaked, but not too much – I had to remember the context. I had just destroyed myself with a massive drug overdose, one component of which was an entire sheet of acid. Of course I’d see crazy things. Still, I’ve been on more than my fair share of acid trips and no hallucination had ever seemed so real or persistent. I just shut my eyes, turned away, and went to sleep.

     “What the fuck you’re still a horse!” I screamed when the doctor re-entered my room. I had woken up that morning feeling more or less detoxed and was sure the drugs had run their course. Now I was really flipping my lid.

     “Don’t worry I’m not a ‘horse’ I’m a unicorn pony,” He said proudly.

     “Is that supposed to make me feel better?!” I shouted. “How are you even allowed to practice medicine?!”

     “Well,” he began indignantly, “I’ll have you know I graduated at the top of my…”

     “You’re a human and we’re ponies. You’ve been displaced from your world and we don’t know how you got here.” I recognized this voice, it was the ‘woman’ who had been in my room the other day talking to the doctor. She was standing in the doorway, and I could now see that she wasn’t a woman at all, but a small purple unicorn.

     “You hear that crazy shit?” I yelled at the doctor-pony, “that makes more sense than anything you’ve said!”

     “Please, sir I know this is a lot to take in but your body is already stressed, please calm down,” the purple unicorn begged of me. Her horn glowed slightly and I felt a soothing energy flow through my body. I unstuck myself from the defensive position I’d assumed in the far corner of the room and sat down on the bed.

     “Have I gone mad?” I asked them.

     “No,” replied the female pony, “You’re reacting as anypony…or, um, whatever you are…would in a situation like this. Please just stay calm and all your questions will be answered in time.” It was the sanest thing I’d heard or seen for quite a while, so I put my faith in those words. She walked around to my side of the bed and looked up at me with radiant lavender-colored eyes. She was about the size of a small Labrador. “You will be fine, I promise. I just need more time to figure out what happened and how we can reverse it.”

     “Ok…ok,” I said shakily, “thank you miss pony.”

     “Call me Twilight.”

     “Okay Twilight,” I said, “Where the hell are my clothes? I need to get out of this place.”

     “Oh,” she blushed, “I’m so sorry, they’ve been…borrowed. Give me ten minutes,” she said, darting out of the room. By this point I wasn’t sure if I was crazy, lucky or what. I mean hell, a few nights ago I was ready kill myself over the monotony of my life, and this was anything but monotonous. It seemed I really had only two options: I could either accept this turn of events as it unfolded, or go completely mad. Realizing I had nothing to lose, I decided to explore this bizarre turn of events.

     “Hey Doc.”

     “Yes?”

     “So two ponies walk into a bar…”

     The doctor did not appreciate my sense of humor, so I was relieved when Miss Twilight returned, followed by another unicorn. I caught myself just before she noticed my gawking. She was beautiful – I mean for a pony of course. She had a pearly white coat, dark purple mane and tail, and diamond-cutting blue eyes that regarded me with the greatest of interest. Right…just beautiful for a pony…aesthetically pleasing! That’s the phrase! Before I could even introduce myself she began apologizing.

     “Oh dear me, I’m so sorry about borrowing your clothes and making you wait, but when I saw them, I was so taken by your style. It’s dark and gothic but truly refined. You’ve inspired a whole new line of clothing for my boutique! I think I’ll call it midnight roma…”

     “Rarity, cut it out, he still barely has his wits about him,” Twilight snapped, then, realizing what she had said, she apologized, “no offense.”

     “Don’t worry, I’m too confused to be offended by anything,” I told them, “Well except maybe him,” I indicated the doctor, “he doesn’t like my jokes.” A few awkward laughs.

     Rarity, who apparently had been studying my attire – I put on my gothic best for my last night on earth – returned my garments and I ducked into the bathroom to change. There was one small problem – my pants, shirt, socks, and coat had been ironed and everything in them removed. I threw on my clothes and burst back into the main room.

     “Where the hell are my cigarettes?!” I demanded. Like I said, under the circumstances I could either try to go with the flow, or go completely batshit insane. If my cigarettes were gone I feared I would opt for the latter.

     “Oh I almost forgot,” said Rarity, “here is everything that was in your pockets the night you appeared.” She used a bit of unicorn magic to levitate a brown paper bag over to me. Inside was my phone, my wallet, my knife, a small flask of whiskey, a lighter, and two soft packs of Camel Filters. I always, always carry two packs. Better safe than sorry. I took a smoke out of the pack that was already open and lit it. Immediately the ponies backed away.

     “That’s not healthy!” Twilight exclaimed.

     “So shoot me,” I said. There was a part of me hoped she would oblige. I opened the flask and poured the whiskey down my throat, the burn igniting an energy inside me.

     “Alcohol is hardly what someone in your current state needs,” the doctor admonished.

     “I need to get the fuck out of here, is what I need…excuse my language,” I said. “Thanks for all the help doc, I’ll see you around.”

     “But, you’re not…ugh forget it,” he gave up. I left the room and headed toward the exit.

     “Son of a whore!” I hollered as the light hit me, searing my flesh and violating my eyes.

     “You shouldn’t be going out right now,” Twilight reprimanded me, “you have no idea what you’ve done to yourself.”

     “Just keep your eyes closed and we will guide you,” Rarity told me gently. I limped along, following their hoofsteps. As we walked I heard many a gasp and a “my word!” or “by Celestia’s mane!” I guess nobody in crazy pastel pony land or wherever the fuck I was had ever seen a human.

     “I…I’m just curious, in my first round of DT’s, someone gave me a bottle…what was that stuff?” I asked the ponies, still trying to regain my composure.

     “You mean when I found you thrashing and yelling on the floor of my boutique?” Rarity raised an eyebrow.

     “Um, yeah, sorry about that…so wait is that where I first…um…appeared?”

     “That’s where you ended up,” Twilight corrected me, “You may have jumped multiple times.”

     “Jumped?”

     “I’ll explain later,” she said somewhat ominously.

     “Anyway, what was that stuff?”

     “Big Mac’s apple cider. I don’t drink it often but I keep it for guests…”

     “Or alcoholics that appear out of thin air,” Twilight added.

     “I need more,” I said bluntly.

     The walk to “Sweet Apple Acres,” as our destination was apparently called, was surprisingly pleasant. I didn’t have a cane so it was a slow walk, but still a pleasant one. It was just the beginning of Autumn so all the trees still had their leaves and mercifully blocked out the sun to the point where I could see. As soon as I’d started talking about booze Twilight had become disapproving and excused herself to return to her “work,” whatever that might be. Rarity, however, having an almost childlike curiosity about me and my world, especially the fashion aspect (not that I knew much about it beyond my own admittedly odd preferences), was happy to accompany me. She even tried puffing a cigarette. I laughed as she coughed and winced, spinning around dizzily.

     “Ugh, my word,” she said faintly, “how do you keep smoking those?”

     “You get used to them,” I picked up the dropped cigarette and put it in my mouth.

     “What are you doing?” she asked as if I had done something completely mad, “that was on the ground, it’s all…dirty,”

     “I’ll live,” I laughed.

     “Not long if you keep inhaling that ghastly smoke,” she chided.

     I just shrugged.

     “So,” I decided to change the direction of the conversation, “Why exactly did you steal my clothes?”

     “I only meant to borrow them…”

     “It’s cool, I’m just curious, and hey, at least you let me keep my skivvies.”

     She laughed and blushed. If only I could be this relaxed and jocular around human women I might have a shot at a girlfriend.

     “They were just so…fabulous! So dark, with all the spikes and netting, I wanted to create a line of clothes similar that captured their aesthetic. Why with Nightmare Night coming up, they’d fly off the rack!”

     “I don’t usually dress this goth,” I said, looking down at my outfit, “I was just in a particular situation that, er, warranted one’s best clothes.” I hoped she wouldn’t inquire about that situation. Thankfully her mind was more concerned with fashion terminology.

     “So that’s what that style is called then, goth? As in gothic? It has a nice ring to it I suppose…maybe I’ll incorporate it into the name of my clothes…oh, look at that we’re here!”

     We’d chattered ourselves all the way to Sweet Apple Acres. Damn there were a lot of apple trees, and a lot of apples; much too early to pick but still an impressive sight…

     “Well how do ya do Sir?” Asked th pony named Applejack, giving me a handshake (or hoofshake rather) so vigorous my arm started to hurt. It was no joke, she was one strong pony.

     “I’m fine, glad to meet you.”

     “So what can I do ya for?”

     “Well,” said Rarity, sounding so delicate in contrast to her country counterpart, “we were wondering if there was any of Big Macintosh’s cider left over…”

     “Mmm, ‘fraid not,” the blonde pony said apologetically. “Why, you lookin’ to do some drunken barn dancin’?”

     “Something like that…”

     “Well, I s’pose I got one thing you might try…” Applejack said thoughtfully leading us to a large shed behind her barn. “See, last applebuck season me an’ Big Mac thought we’d try our hooves at makin’ some apple whiskey. In short, it was a complete disaster. We let it ferment way too long. It tastes like battery acid and burns like a branding iron, but you’re welcome to try it at your own risk…” Inside the shed there were a few large barrels, one of which had a tap in it. Apple Jack picked up a dusty steel tankard off of a side table and filled it with apple whiskey. Rarity immediately recoiled.

     “Oh! It smells awful.”

     “’Swhat I toldya sister.”

     I took the drink and smelled it. Rotten apples and ethanol. I took a sip…then my alcoholism kicked in and before I knew it the tankard was empty. I held it out to Apple Jack. “More.”

     I had two more tankards before I was comfortably wasted. The two ponies simply stared at me, I couldn’t tell if they were awed or bewildered.

     “That swill’s gotta be a hundred proof at least!” Apple Jack exclaimed, “How’re you still standing?!”

     “I’m used to it,” I laughed, lighting a cigarette. Suddenly I remembered something. I pulled my wallet out and reached inside one pocket, producing a small plastic bag and some rolling papers. “You guys wanna have some real fun?”

   I couldn’t imagine a more glorious place to get stoned. We sat under one of the largest apple trees, watching the sun trickle through the leaves. It had taken some convincing, but I’d gotten the two ponies to smoke with me. Rarity was sitting on her haunches staring straight upward, mouth agape, watching branches dancing in the gentle breeze. Applejack seemed rooted in place, her jaw hanging open as well.

     “It’s so…purdy,” was all she could manage to say.

     “I feel like I’m floating…am I floating?” Rarity asked.

     “Nope, you’re still earthbound,” I laughed.

     Suddenly I could hear the sound of flapping wings, followed by hooves as a new pony landed and came trotting up to us. A Pegasus? Man things were just getting weirder by the second.

     “Sorry A.J., I was going to get the rain going for your trees but then I found this really nice cloud and I ended up taking a nap.”

     “Uh-huh,” Applejack mumbled.

     “What, that’s it? I thought you’d be angry…” The Pegasus was eyeing her friend quizzically now as the normally lively mare stood unmoving, her expression completely blank.

     “Uh-huh.”

     “Um, hey, A.J., you in there?” she sounded concerned. She waved a hoof in front of the earth pony’s face, but this elicited no response.

     “I’m fine Dashiekins,” she replied after a moment, “Ah just feel real gooood.” The pegasus turned a bright shade of red upon hearing the pet name.

     “Hah, Applejack, don’t go using those silly names Pinkie calls me, heh, you…you know how it annoys me…”

     “That ain’t what ya told me the other night…” She replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

     “Hah, um, heh, she doesn’t know what…”

     “Aww look at you gettin’ all hot an’ bothered,” A.J. laughed, finally looking at the Pegasus, a dopey grin plastered on her rugged features. “C’mere lil’ Dashiekins.” She jumped on top of the the rainbow-maned pony and pinned her to the ground. By now the conversation had caught Rarity’s attention. Her eyes were wide but she was smiling.

     “I think we ought to leave the two of them alone,” I suggested

     “Quite,” she agreed, and we excused ourselves as courteously as we could.

     “Hey! Hey guys it’s cool, no need to leave, we’re just wrestling! Totally platonic wrestling match here!”

     The pot didn’t seem to have hit Rarity quite as hard and so we were able to keep up a conversation as we walked back toward downtown Ponyville.

    “What was that all about?”

     Rarity laughed in earnest, “What? Apple Jack and Rainbow Dash? You’d have to be pretty thick not to see what’s going on there…although I must admit, ‘Dashiekins’ is a new one on me.”

     “So I take it that it’s one of those ‘secrets’ that everybody knows?” I chuckled.

     “I wouldn’t even call it a secret,” replied the pony, “more like a truth unspoken.”

     “A truth unspoken,” I mused, “that’s very eloquent.”

     “Yes…that ‘magic herb’ as you called it makes me think differently.”

     “That’s the beauty of it!” Maybe I was just stoned, but at that moment things started making more sense. Maybe catapulting me into this new, beautiful world with these wonderful ponies was god’s way of telling me that life is worth living. Then again maybe it was a one in a million accident. Either way, disoriented, drunk, and blitzed though I was, I felt a kind of peace conversing with Rarity that I had never known. I didn’t have to put up a front or feign any emotions…we just talked.

     “I thought I had quite a decent lunch, but I feel peckish,” she said. I laughed hysterically. Her refined manner of speech juxtaposed against our stoned stumbling and meandering was priceless.

     “That’s the ‘magic herb’ talking,” I told her.

     “You mean it induces hunger?” her eyes widened.

     “Yeah.”

     “Oh my, I’m trying to stay fit! But the only thing I can think of right now is a donut! A donut topped with chocolate and sprinkles!”

     “I’m right there with you!”

     “I believe this warrants a trip to Sugarcube Corner!” She announced with delight. I had no idea what the fuck that meant but it sounded awesome.

Donuts and Gossip

     It took many a donut and cupcake to sate our munchies.

     “So what do you do for fun?” I asked candidly.

     “Well I make dresses of course.”

     “No no no not work fun, real fun!”

     “Well, I’m not a hard partier, but I do enjoy an occasional rave when Vinyl Scratch is DJing. I also love taking the trip up to Cloudsdale to see the Wonderbolts. They’re magnificent. I really do hope Rainbow Dash gets into the group. She’s more than qualified – none of the Wonderbolts have ever managed a sonic rainboom! Plus,” she leaned toward me, a sure sign that a bit of gossip was about to come out, “I heard that Spitfire and Soarin had a falling out, so there may be a vacant spot sometime soon.” I didn’t understand half of what she’d just said but I love gossip.

     “Really?” I urged her on.

     “Yes, apparently Soarin can’t seem to control where he sticks it,” she giggled. I was surprised at this departure from propriety. Then again she was high as a kite.

     “More donuts?!” our conversation was interrupted the bouncing pink chatterbox known as Pinkie Pie, carrying a plate of fresh, heavenly smelling confections. She hadn’t even given me a second glance when we showed up at Sugar Cube corner, as if humans were as familiar to her as muffins.

     “Thank you Pinkie Pie dear, but I’m stuffed,” Rarity smiled and patted her stomach, her eyes as glazed as the donuts she’d just eaten.

     “I’ll have another,” I said, picking out a chocolate covered, crème filled pastry. I stopped short just before taking a bite. “Wait, I’ve got nothing to pay for this…”

     “Oh don’t be silly, it’s all on me,” Rarity cut me off.

     “Rarity you’re being silly!” Pinkie laughed, “for you it’s on the house! Well I mean it’s not on the house, it’s in your stomach…if it were on the house we’d have to get a ladder and I’m not sure I have one! What I mean is it’s free!”

     “Thank you Pinkie,” the white unicorn called as the loopy mare skipped off. “So,” she turned back to me, eyes full of curiosity again, “what is it that you do for fun?”

     “I drink,” I said flatly.

     “Is that all?”

     “Pretty much…”

     “Well no wonder you were in fits when I found you…I’ve seen what happens to Berry Punch when she goes without – she can hardly function. In fact, she drinks so much the doctors told her she could die if she stops!” She looked disturbed.

     “Well don’t worry on my account, I’m taken care of for now,” I patted the quart of apple whiskey that occupied the largest pocket of my coat. Applejack had been all too willing to give the stuff away. She’d filled my flask and given me a big bottle for good measure, assuring me I was welcome to the rest of it any time I wanted. At the thought of liquor I felt a familiar thirst and took a large pull from my flask. “You sure you don’t want any?” I offered it to Rarity. She gagged. “Sorry, just making sure,” I apologized before downing the rest of the admittedly harsh liquor. I lit a cigarette, settling comfortably into my renewed buzz.

     “My goodness, how many of those things do you smoke in a day?” Rarity asked in honest concern.

     “Umm…rough estimate…a lot,” I replied. I suddenly realized that I only had a pack and a half left, and no clue how long I was going to be here. I made a mental note to watch my supply.

     “So, you drink and you smoke, cigarettes as well as that green stuff we had earlier…are you simply intoxicated all the time?”

     I considered this take on my behavior for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose…”

     “What on earth for? Don’t get me wrong, I like to get a bit tipsy on occasion, but the world is perfectly glorious on its own!”

     “It is here. Not where I’m from,” I said darkly. Self-pity is a specialty of mine. “My world is one big…”

     “RARITY!” came a loud and mournful cry. A small white blur came running toward us and launched itself into Rarity’s lap, nearly tipping her chair over.

     “Sweetie Belle! What in the world…oh my!” The mare stopped her scolding when she saw the blood on her sister’s outstretched leg. “What in Celestia’s name happened?”

     “I was trying to use your sewing machine to make a new Cutie Mark Crusaders uniform for Apple Bloom since she accidentally set hers on fire and my hoof slipped and look!” Stitched to a pinched up bit of skin on her right foreleg was a small piece of torn, red-stained yellow cloth. “I tried to cut it out with scissors but I just cut myself more!” Sweetie moaned.

     “Well, let’s get you to the doctor…”

     “Hold on,” I said, “I’ve got this.” The filly hadn’t even noticed me but when she did she let out a yelp and hid behind her pink and lavender mane, face buried in her sister’s chest.

     “It’s okay,” Rarity cooed, “He’s a friend.” Then, turning to me she asked skeptically, “are you a doctor?”

     “Nope,” I admitted, “but I’ve done much worse things to myself.” I pulled out my pocket knife and snapped it open. Rarity balked and pulled her sister closer. “Trust me,” I said, “really.” I put the knife down on the table and reached out with both hands as Rarity gently handed me the filly, who had curled up into a quivering little ball. “Go ask Pinkie for some paper tow…” Pinkie immediately showed up with paper towels and gauze.

     “I got an itchy nose, then a tingly hoof, then chattery teeth! Did someone have a sewing accident?” she asked. I wanted to laugh but I had to concentrate. Ever so slowly I coaxed Sweetie Belle’s injured leg out and began carefully cutting the stitches one by one with my knife. Once they were all undone and the skin was no longer pinched I could feel the pony relax. She barely noticed as I pulled out the threads. Then I pulled out my bottle of apple whiskey and uncorked it.

     “Sweetie Belle?” She looked up at the sound of my voice, clearly still frightened, eyes wide and glistening. “I have to sterilize it so you won’t get an infection, but it’s gonna hurt a little, so just be brave, okay? Cutie Mark Crusaders are brave, right?” Rarity had told me about her sister’s little club. At the mention of it her face became stoic and she nodded. I poured a small amount of alcohol over her wounds. She winced and tensed up but remained silent. I wrapped her leg in a makeshift bandage made out of the paper towels, gauze, and some band-aids from my wallet, then set her on the ground. She looked at it, wiggled it around a bit, and then looked back up at me, a big smile on her face.

     “Thanks Mister…uh…what are you?”

     “I’m a human,” I laughed, on the verge of tears at how adorable she was.

     “Thanks Mister human doctor! I gotta go tell the other crusaders about this! Bye Rarity!” She scampered off just as quickly as she had come. I closed up my knife and stuck it back in my pocket, took a long drink out of the open bottle of apple whiskey, lit another cigarette, and turned back to Rarity. She looked astonished.

     “Where’d you learn all that? You were better with her than her doctor. He always makes her cry.”

     “I dunno,” I said, unsure myself – I was terrible with human kids, “some things just come natural I guess.”

     “Well I wish it ‘came natural’ to me,” Rarity huffed slightly, “Sweetie Belle is so fussy and whiny with me sometimes I can hardly stand to be around her. Ugh! And you should see the constant chaos she causes in my boutique!”

     “Ah, she’s just a kid,” I shrugged, “and a really cute one too. She might be as beautiful as you when she grows up.” Oops, that just sort of slipped out.

     Rarity batted her eyelashes and blushed. “Now aren’t you a charmer!”

     I took another long drink of apple whiskey. “So,” I tried to steer the conversation back to Sweetie Belle, “how come she’s always in your hair…er mane? Shouldn’t your parents be taking care of her?”

     “My parents are always ‘busy’. As if they think I’m not! I have a business to run! They just drift from function to function living off their savings drinking cocktails and socializing. Technically Sweetie lives with them but she wants to be a designer like me when she grows up so she follows me about. I try to teach her what I can when I’m not otherwise occupied but as you can clearly see it is not her forte. Ugh, and she’s always bringing Apple Bloom and Scootaloo – whose parents I’ve never even seen for the record – around. Those three together are a terror, especially when Scootaloo is zipping them around with that little scooter.” She rubbed her temples as if a headache were coming on.

     “Scootaloo?”

     “Sweetie’s little friend. She’s a Pegasus…sort of…”

     “How can one ‘sort of’ be a Pegasus?” I cocked an eyebrow quizzically.

     Rarity leaned in towards me. “Don’t repeat any of this,” she said in a hushed tone. I signaled that my lips were zipped. “It’s her wings. She should be in flight school…she should have been a while ago according to Rainbow Dash and even Fluttershy, but her wings aren’t growing in…at all. She idolizes Rainbow and has her heart set on being a Wonderbolt someday, but Rainbow says at this rate, barring some belated growth spurt, she may never even fly. Nobody has the heart to say anything yet, and for now we’re all just hoping against hope, but…” she trailed off.

     “That’s terrible,” I said. I felt sympathy for the little creature; after the forklift had shattered my leg I was told I might never walk again. It was only through intense physical therapy that I was able to get up and hobble about, and even then I was slow unless I had a cane, and movements that once came so naturally – running, jumping, dancing – were out of the question. I explained this to Rarity. “Still,” I said, “I’m just glad to be mobile, I was never an aspiring athlete or anything. But having all your hopes and dreams hinging on something that might not come to be, that’s…” I trailed off as well.

     “It’s worse than that.” Rarity shook her head, “Even if a Pegasus isn’t a Wonderbolt, she’s still a Pegasus. Not everypony can be a superstar…but a flightless Pegasus? She’d be unable to do the one thing her kind is born to do…she’d be forever a misfit. I don’t think I could live that life. Just imagining not having my magic makes me sick.” The whole idea made me sick too. I took another drink of whiskey.

     “Couldn’t she just be a late bloomer?” I proposed.

     “I’ve seen my fair share of late bloomers,” Rarity looked quite downcast by this point, “but even Fluttershy had almost normal sized wings for her age well before this point. Anyone can see Scootaloo’s wings are hardly any bigger than a newborn foal’s.”

     I shook my head. “C’est la vie,” was all I could think to say.

     “Indeed. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?” She seemed eager to change the tone of our chat. “So, you know what I do, what do you do? For work I mean?”

     “Nothing as of now.” I confessed “After my accident I got a pretty decent settlement from my old job. That lasted for a while, but now I mostly live on disability while I look for a new job.”

     “Disability?”

     “Where I come from, the government gives money to people who can’t work, but trust me, it’s not as kind as it seems. Most people see us as leeches on society.”

     “Around here, if somepony can’t work, everybody is happy to help!” The unicorn said as if this should be the obvious solution.

     “Huh,” I downed the rest of the apple whiskey, “I wish I’d been born a pony!” I stared down the empty bottle. “Dammit, looks like I’ll have to go back and see Applejack sooner than I thought.”

     “Nonsense, let me take you to the bar,” Rarity cordially offered.

     “I appreciate it, I do, but aren’t I keeping you from your work?”

     “It’s Friday evening dear, I’m not working. If you want a good seat we should move along before sundown, it tends to get quite packed. All my friends will be there I’m sure.”

     “I assure you were it anything else I’d be a gentleman and not mooch,” I explained, “but I have this policy about refusing free drinks…”

Things Always Get Weird at Bars...

     The Rusty Bucket – the faded wooden sign hung above the door of Ponyville’s favorite dive bar. It didn’t look like anything special from the outside, but when we walked inside I could see that this place had a rich history. All of the bar stools were old and worn and wobbly from many a drunken reverie, the counter dented by the pounding of hooves. There were several well-used pool tables and a card table in the back. The dark mahogany wall panels were probably once quite beautiful, but most of their luster had been worn away and they were covered with stains – everything from vomit to blood from what I could tell – dents, and on one wall what I could swear looked like the remnants of a shotgun blast…did ponies have guns? The lighting was dim, except behind the bar, showcasing an impressive collection of all types of liquor. In short, this was my type of place.

     “It’s not much…” Rarity began.

     “It’s wonderful!” I laughed.

     There were only a couple of ponies up at the bar and two more playing pool. The bartender was none other than Berry Punch…the pony who was, according to Rarity, the town’s resident alcoholic. We sat down at the end of the bar and the magenta mare approached us.

     “What can I get ya?” Berry inquired cheerily, absent mindedly twirling a polishing cloth.

     “Do you, perchance, enjoy scotch?” Rarity asked me, looking hopeful. If I’d had to guess her drink of choice, scotch would’ve been at the bottom of my list.

     “Why yes, madam, I do!” I said emphatically, playfully mocking her accent and poise. Who uses the word “perchance”?! She made an attempt at looking incredulously offended, but it only held for a moment before she cracked an amused smirk.

     “Scotch it is then!” she declared.

     “Single malt or blended?” Berry asked.

     “Single malt. Bring two bottles and leave them both,” Rarity said nonchalantly.

     Berry Punch raised her brows, “Sure thing Rarity, but that’ll be sixty bits…” Rarity pulled a large, jangling sack from her saddle bag and dropped it on the counter.

     “If I remember correctly there are seventy bits in there, and you can keep the change.”

     “You’re a cool customer Rarity,” the bartender winked, “lemme go grab those bottles for ya. Back in a flash!”

     “I never figured you for a scotch connoisseur,” I said to the purple-maned mare, “I was thinking more along the lines of a cosmopolitan followed by tequila shots.”

     “Ugh,” Rarity huffed, feigning offense, “once again I am the victim of stereotype! Elegance and fabulosity aren’t just dress codes you know, they’re a way of life! Vomiting up syrupy girly drinks in a bathroom stall like some sorority filly is not fabulous!”

     “True,” I agreed, “but I have to say, being ‘fabulous’ seems to be expensive…I mean I’m by no means intimately familiar with your monetary system, but isn’t sixty bits a lot?”

     “It is, but I’m quite well off if you couldn’t tell,” she turned her head and cocked an eyebrow, “and it’s not every day that you get to spend time with a dimension-hopping human who just gave you the inspiration for a whole new line of fashion. Consider it my thanks to you for a wonderful idea and a wonderful day.” I couldn’t help but smile warmly; the usual hint of haughtiness had left her voice and she was speaking in earnest…I couldn’t remember the last time someone had said they enjoyed spending time with me. Maybe in this new place, this new context, I could be a new person – a better person. “Plus,” Rarity continued, “you saved me a hospital bill and a whole lot of fussing by tending to Sweetie Belle.”

     Suddenly I noticed two bottles and two glasses on the bar in front of us. It seemed Berry Punch had been kind enough not to interrupt our banter. Rarity noticed too. She lowered her head ever so slightly and both her horn and one of the bottles became enveloped in a purple glow. The cork popped and she poured herself half a glass, then poured me a very full one, much to my amusement.

     “Cheers!” I said holding up my drink.

     “Cheers.” She levitated her glass up to meet mine. I wondered for a moment how non-unicorn ponies managed to hold something delicate like a scotch glass…then again around Ponyville almost everything else seemed to come in a giant mug.

     As we drank ponies began filtering into the establishment. Every once in a while there was a small hubbub at the door as some underage colt or filly tried to get in and the bouncer had to put his hoof down. Probably the funniest was when Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon came armed with very fake looking fake ID’s.. We both had a good laugh at that.

     “Are those two really as awful as you said?” Rarity had told me a bit about the two troublemakers earlier

     “Worse,” Rarity deadpanned, “Sweetie and her friends may be a pain in the behind but when all is said and done they’re just kids being kids. Those two fillies…” she shook her head. “Diamond Tiara is vicious, spoiled, and rotten to the core. As for Silver spoon, she’s so in love with Diamond she might as well shove her head up her rump and spare the world another glance at her face.”

     “I also was wondering…you said cutie marks are supposed to be symbolic of a pony’s special talent…but how is wearing a fancy hat a talent?!”

     “Right?!” Rarity exclaimed, eyes wide, her forelegs up in the air. “Don’t tell anyone,” she leaned in – not that she had to considering the volume of the bar at this point – “but after having to console poor Sweetie Belle more than once after an encounter with Diamond Tiara, I’ve considered simply plucking that thing off her head and snapping it in two just to see her cry.” She snickered wickedly. I gave her the ‘not a bad idea’ look and smiled to myself; this slightly sadistic streak was a side of Rarity I’d not seen, and I liked it. I wondered what other secrets were hidden behind that well-honed mask of propriety. A sudden flash of pink and a bouncing commotion interrupted my pondering.

     “Hi Rarity! Hi human! I knew we’d find you guys here because I saw how much you like to drink and it’s Friday night which is the perfect time to drink so I went to Twi’s place and I was like ‘let’s go to the Rusty Bucket’ and then I went and found A.J. and Dashie and I was like ‘let’s go to the Bucket’ and then I went to Fluttershy’s and I was like ‘let’s go to the Bucket’ and they all came with me and we got here and I saw you guys and I was like omigosh I was totally right and so I came up here and I was like ‘hey Rarity’ and then I was like…”

     “Yes Pinkie, dear, we were here for that part,” Rarity took a large gulp of whiskey and rubbed her temples. Pinkie’s machine-gun style delivery amazed me…she must have the lung capacity of an Olympic swimmer to say all that in one breath.

     “Well of course you were otherwise who would I be talking to, silly?” Behind her I could see Twilight, Rainbow, Applejack, and a nervous-looking yellow Pegasus wading through the crowd toward us. She was wearing sunglasses, her mane hidden under a scarf. I suppose Rarity saw me wondering at her accoutrements.

     “Fluttershy is still dealing with the repercussions of a brief modeling career,” she explained, “it’s not as bad as a few months ago, but all the crazies seem to come out at night, and there have been…incidents.” She didn’t elaborate further.

     The colts sitting next to us were gracious enough to give up their seats for Rarity’s friends, though they looked as if they’d been expecting more than just a few words of gratitude. One of them seemed like he was trying to make a pass at Rainbow Dash, but her thoughts were clearly otherwise occupied. Through the growing drunken fog in my head I suddenly remembered the hilarious circumstances of our last encounter and I had to work hard not to laugh. She was avoiding my gaze, as well as Rarity’s, her face bright red. Applejack was behaving in a similar manner; evidently she’d come down off her high and realized the implications of her little ‘slip’. “Well,” said Rarity, “it seems you’ve met all my friends in one way or another except Fluttershy here.” The timid mare gave me a gentle hoofshake. Her eyes remained obscured behind her shades but I could tell she wasn’t looking at me.

     “Um, pleased to make your acquaintance,” she mumbled, almost inaudible amidst the ever growing din of the bar.

     “Likewise,” I fired out my default response to any introduction. Berry Punch chose this moment to grace us once again with her presence, diffusing for a moment the various tensions among our little group. Applejack and Dash ordered whiskey sours and a plate of hay fries, while Fluttershy opted for an appletini. Pinkie asked for “the usual”. Twilight simply ordered a glass of water. She was looking at me with an unreadable expression, possibly trying to size me up, to analyze me, and I don’t think she knew what to make of me. The feeling was mutual.

     “Twi, Darling,” Rarity’s usually impeccable accent was ever so slightly slurred, “are you really going to stay dry the whole night? For Celestia’s sake, let your mane down for once!”

     “My mane is down, Rarity,”

     “Oh you know what I mean!”

     Twilight huffed and pulled a book out of her saddle bag. Rarity laughed and rolled her eyes. She leaned over to me again.

     “She’s just in one of her moods…all work and no play that one.”

     “Does she do anything but read?” I asked quietly, though I noticed the brooding mare’s ear cocked in our direction. She could probably hear me. I didn’t really give a fuck.

     “Oh Twilight can be lots of fun when she chooses to” Rarity spoke aloud, poking her uptight friend teasingly. Her levity went unappreciated.

     So, Twilight clearly either didn’t like me or was otherwise unsettled by my presence, A.J. and Dash were mortified after the “wrestling match” incident, and Fluttershy was, well, shy. Unfortunately this meant that my only potential conversation partner besides Rarity was Pinkie. She was sitting next to me rambling on about god knows what; I could only catch bits of the maelstrom of verbiage. She paused every now and then, looking at me expectantly for an answer to some question I hadn’t understood. I quickly learned that it made little difference whether I said yes, no, or just nodded.

     “…and so then I was like ‘this entire place is full of pamphlets!’ And then…oh drinks!” The pink pony bounced excitedly as Berry returned carrying three recognizable drinks, a plate of hay fries, and a giant “glass” that, were it lacking a stem, could easily be classified as a bowl. This…thing – some kind of hybrid between a cocktail, a fruit arrangement, and a beach party – went to Pinkie, and she immediately began sucking down the orange liquid and playing with the half a dozen tiny umbrellas and swizzle straws that accompanied it.

     “That’s called a ‘Pinkie Pie Special,’” Rarity informed me. I had already surmised that it was a drink of the loopy mare’s own design. I watched in amazement as Pinkie polished off the gigantic cocktail and gobbled up the fruits arranged around the rim of the glass, then carefully placed each of the tiny umbrellas in her mane as though they were flowers.

     “PUNCHIE I NEED A REFILL!” she bellowed, causing a temporary lull in the ambient bar noise as many of the ponies looked up from their drinks or games to see who could possibly be that loud. Most of them, upon recognizing the source gave an “oh, it’s Pinkie” shrug and continued about their business.

     “Just a sec Pinks, I’m kinda busy here!” Berry Punch shouted back. She was a magenta blur, scrambling about mixing cocktails, running back to the kitchen bring out plates of hay fries and other bar fare, keeping tabs and taking tips. She was also clearly drunk, but she made it work, swaying this way and that as she danced frantically about in a sort of intoxicated barkeep waltz. She made her way toward us, sweeping up empty glasses as she went, exchanging Pinkie’s spent drink for a fresh one, then hurrying off to the other end of the bar where a group of pegasi were having a drinking contest.

     “You should meet Berry when she’s not so frazzled, I have a feeling you two would have a lot in common,” Rarity told me. “Just…please don’t ever challenge her to a drinking contest,” she cocked her head toward the rowdy group of pegasi. “I’ve seen her drink all of those ruffians under the table…individually and all at once.” Having never been out-drunk, I decided right then I had to do exactly what Rarity told me not to. I’d catch Ponyville’s queen of crunk after the bar closed or when things quieted down. Until then I was quite content to sip the lovely scotch my new unicorn friend had bought me and try and get some of the other ponies to loosen up.

     Everything seemed cool for a bit. I was just about to excuse myself for a cigarette when I saw Twilight go rigid, staring across the bar. She elbowed Rarity and pointed.

     “Oh good grief,” Rarity groaned.

     “What’s up?” I asked.

     “Her.” Rarity pointed to the card table in the back. There sat two mares, one a cream-colored pony with long, two-toned pink and purple tresses, the other a mint colored unicorn with a shock of white through her short mane. The earth pony was shaking her head in what looked like severe exasperation, while the unicorn gestured animatedly in our direction. Obviously I couldn’t hear a word of their conversation, but it looked like the earth mare was trying to reason with the unicorn, and it wasn’t going well. I watched as the argument escalated – clearly they were yelling at each other – and then ceased. The cream colored pony banged her head on the table, seemingly defeated. The unicorn stared over in our direction again, a look of satisfied determination on her face.

     Then she stood up. Not on four hooves like all the others, she actually stood up on two legs. For some reason I still to this day cannot quite put my finger on, I found the sight quite disturbing. She began to move – to lurch forward, knees locked - wobbling back and forth using her forelegs to steady herself, making her way across the bar room floor. The other ponies watched her with expressions ranging from awe to disgust. Then I noticed something else: she was wearing pants. I don’t know where she’d gotten them but they looked as though they had been stitched together out of just about any scrap of fabric that could be found, the materials ranging in pattern from floral to plaid to pinstripe. They were flared like a pair of bell-bottoms; I have no idea why, but in my mind it just upped the bizzarro factor a few more notches. As she approached I could hear the uneven clomping of her hooves, yet though she staggered and swayed her eyes remained locked on us…no…on me.

     “Save yourself,” Rarity whispered urgently, “we’ll hold her up.” I wanted to act in accordance with this particular suggestion like nobody’s bisnatch, but something about the look in the minty mare’s eyes told me that our meeting was an inevitable eventuality. Resisting my urge to run the fuck away I took a long drink from my bottle of scotch, setting it down just as the freak show arrived. She stood in front of me, arms…or forelegs rather…dangling awkwardly at her sides.

     “Human!” she said breathlessly, her big yellow eyes wide with wonder, locked unblinkingly with mine, her voice betraying some macabre sort of hunger. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Okay, I thought, we have officially arrived in creepy town. Though I was almost afraid to take my eyes off her lest she accost me in some fashion I couldn’t help turning around to shoot Rarity a “what the fuck?” style look, to which she seemed to have no answer.

Oh Snap

     Lyra was interesting, I’ll give her that.

     “Can I touch them?” she asked, the look in her eyes one of pure lust.

     “Uh, look, we just met, so about that I’m gonna have to…”

     “She means your hands,” Rarity interjected with a little laugh.

     “Oh…um…okaaaay…” Instantly the minty unicorn grabbed at my hands with her hooves, stroking them, prodding them, examining them. She nuzzled one with her snout and I could hear her inhale deeply. When she opened her mouth to lick my right hand I withdrew, my eyes wide. “Okay, so…that’s that then…”

     Awkward Silence

     Suddenly the green unicorn turned around facing the bar denizens. “SEE?! THEY’RE REAL! I’M NOT CRAZY!” I didn’t think that the first statement necessarily supported the second. All the ponies just stared, expressions ranging from shock to confusion to hilarity on their faces. The cream colored pony in the back was holding her face in her hooves, shaking her head slowly.

     Lyra proceeded to throw herself between me and Rarity and barrage me with questions about myself and humans in general. I tried my best to answer but she was practically manic with excitement, often cutting me off in the middle of one answer to ask another question. As the evening drew on the questions got more and more personal in a creepy kind of way, culminating with the last one.

     “Do you want to come home with me? We could get a little more in depth on the subject of human…anatomy…” Lyra proposed. Behind her Rarity was shaking her head vigorously and mouthing NO NO NO NO!

     “That’s a very kind offer, miss Lyra, but I’m…” I drew a blank until Rarity pointed at herself “…I’m staying with Rarity and helping…with…her laundry?” I tried to figure out what Rarity’s pantomime meant. Oh well, close enough?

     “Well if you change your mind here’s my address,” she handed me a piece of paper, “come by any time…” she winked at me as she walked off in her wobbly bipedal fashion to rejoin her companion, who, for the record, looked irate. When she was out of earshot I realized Rarity and her friends were giggling at me. Even Twilight had a little smirk going on.

     “What in the actual hell was…”

     “Lyra has a human fetish,” Rarity was bemused, “You being here probably just made her life.”

     “She’s um…”

     “Creepy?”

     “Yeah…” I said, shaking my head and pouring myself another scotch. Wow, I hadn’t realized it but all the nervous drinking I had done while playing one million questions with Lyra had left me quite wasted. “I think I need to get out of here,” I told Rarity, “find a place to sleep.” Rarity looked suddenly offended.

     “Well,” she huffed, “that’s one way to refuse an invitation!”

     “Wait, you were serious? I can stay at your place?” I was surprised.

     “Of course. Dear me what kind of element of Generosity would I be to refuse you?” I wasn’t quite sure what she meant but at least I knew I’d have a warm place to sleep that night.

     Rarity said her goodbyes, I awkwardly acknowledged each of her friends, and we left the bar. I remember very little after that, only that Rarity had more booze at her house. There was drinking, laughter, some awkward blushing on both our parts…then I blacked out.

     I awoke the next morning under a luxuriously soft down comforter, surrounded by feather pillows. This is one hell of a guest room, I thought. I went to sit up but my shoulder was weighed down by something. Suddenly I recognized the softness and warmth against my body. I turned my head slowly. Resting peacefully next to me, a small smile on her delicate features, was Rarity. When I moved she stirred and pulled me closer, letting out a contented humming sound.

     Oh Snap. I banged a pony.

Screwed

     I’m not gonna lie, I had NO idea what to do and I acted like a pusscake: I ran. I hopped out of bed – discovering to my further horror that I was completely naked – threw on my clothes, and bolted out of Rarity’s place as fast as my bum leg could carry me. The sun stung my eyes and I felt a headache coming on as I made my way toward Sweet Apple Acres, knowing nowhere else to go. It was the crack of dawn so fortunately nobody was up. I made a beeline for that little shed behind the barn. I tapped the huge barrel of apple whiskey and filled up the old tankard, then began gulping the foul liquor down like it was mana from heaven.  I sat in a corner and lit a cigarette. What had I done? What expectations had I created? What the fuck was I thinking? I didn’t even belong here!

     I pondered my situation for a long time, slowly depleting the whiskey and my supply of cigarettes. I’d had my share of one night stands sure, and any other time I’d be calling my best buddy and being like ‘I got laid bro!’, but this was an entirely different context. I knew nothing of ponies and their manners of courting and mating. For all I knew I had bound myself for life…to a pony no less! A hot pony, but still a bloody pony! I had defiled a sweet and innocent creature and most likely misled her romantically. And then there were Rarity’s friends as well – considering how close they were, if I made any promises and didn’t keep them they’d have my head on a pike! They seemed like the kind of chicks who could do some damage if they were sufficiently pissed off.

     I honestly entertained the notion of fleeing for quite some time. I could just go find another town full of friendly pastel ponies! Friendly…that’s when I remembered everything Rarity had done for me and how kindly she’d treated me. I owed her a lot more than this…a hell of a lot more. Come on you puss, I thought, man up and deal for once instead of running away like a little bitch. I sighed heavily, tapped the barrel one more time to fill my flask, and set off to meet my fate, whatever it held.

     It was bad. When I entered Rarity’s boutique I could hear her weeping upstairs. I facepalmed and headed up, opening the door slowly.

     “Rar…Rarity?” I slurred. Oh god I hadn’t even realized how drunk I was.

     “Oh! Well!” she began. I was gonna get it. “So you decided to come back did you? I take you out, buy you drinks, let you stay with me, give myself to you no less, and you run away?”

     “I um…needed to think…I…just took a walk?” I lied like an idiot

     “Don’t you even dare! I saw you bolt out of here! And you’re drunk again! Was it that bad that you have to drown yourself in whiskey just to forget about it?” She began tearing up again.

     “Look, I…I’m sorry, but I mean, you’ve probably slept with tons of jerks like me…” As soon as I said this I realized it was pretty much the worst possible thing I could’ve said.

     “I am not a whore, you insensitive cur! For your information that was my first time…”

     Oh god.

     “…and I was saving myself for someone special…”

     Oh god I’m a complete asshole.

     “…and you spurn me like this?”

     “Wait lemme just explain…”

     “NO! Get out! Out of my house now!” I hit the dirt as the enraged unicorn hurled a vase of flowers at me. “OUT!” She shouted again as I stumbled down the stairs and out the front door. I made the mistake of pausing when I got out the door, and a ceramic lamp shattered over my head – she was throwing things at me from the window. I hobbled as fast as I could toward the bar, still able to hear Rarity shouting in the distance.

     “…so then she threw some shit at me and I came here,” I told Berry Punch. She had wry smile on her face as I finished my tale.

     “You fucked up,” she laughed.

     “Ya think?” I suppose that being a bar tender she was used to these sort of stories. At least I had someone to talk to. There was nobody else in the bar at eight in the morning.

     “Well, here’s your pity party,” Berry said, pouring me a glass of gin, “that’s the only one you get, so enjoy it.”

     “Thanks,” I deadpanned. “So what do you think I should do?”

     “What can you do? You pissed off one of Ponyville’s star citizens, and by extension, her friends, all of whom are well connected. They can and probably will make your life hell unless you do something to get back in Rarity’s good graces.”

     “I’m screwed, I get it, you can stop rubbing it in now.”

     “Honey, you’re in my bar, you can leave any time you want.”

     I didn’t want to leave. I’d probably be lynched. Then again it wasn’t going to be much fun sitting at a bar all day with no money. Then I remembered something…

     “Hey,” I said to Berry, “wanna have a drinking contest?”

     “Oh you’re on!”

Spike and Vases

     I woke up from my drunken stupor only to be knocked out again. All I saw was a flash of purple claws and a baseball bat.

     I awoke for a second time only to be knocked out once again. The bat connected with my head, my head connected with the floor, hasta luego.

     When I came to the third time I immediately put my hands up to defend myself but no bat came.

     WHAM

     A clawed foot connected with my head dazing me even more, and then there he was, standing atop my aching body, grabbing at my collar looking me dead in the eye. I’d seen the little guy following Twilight around…a lizard or something.

     “Wha…What I ever d-do to you lizard man?” I slurred stupidly.

     “Nothing, nothing at all…you only took the only thing I’ve ever wanted and ruined it!” he fumed.

     “Huh…?”

     “Shut the fuck up!” his voice was dripping with loathing. He smacked me upside the face.

     “Wha…?”

     “You dumbfuck,” he pulled my face so close our noses touched, his little reptile eyes drilling into my soul, “you get to home base with the most beautiful creature on the face of this world and then break her heart? I’ll kill you, you hear me? I’ll fucking kill you!”

     “What…?”

     “SAY ‘WHAT’ AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER I DARE YOU!”

     “What…”

     Aaaand he knocked me out again. That was how I met Spike.

     When I finally came round my head was throbbing. I really had to do something or I had the feeling I would continue to get my ass kicked.

     It was early in the morning so I managed to sneak out of the bar, buy some flowers, and make my way to Rarity’s without being accosted. I knocked on the door. Moments later a bleary-looking Rarity answered the door. Her eyes immediately went wide and her unicorn horn glowed purple. A vase that had been resting above the hearth behind her became enveloped in the same purple glow and went hurtling towards my head I dodged but Rarity was quick, readjusting the trajectory of the vessel and bringing it round to smack me in the back of the head. She slammed the door shut.

     The next day I returned with a dozen roses and box of chocolates. Vase.

     Day Three: Vase

     Day Four: HOW MANY VASES DOES THIS BITCH HAVE?