Taming Strange. Or: How I learned to stop worrying and make love in public

Wordsmith led the impromptu parade to his favorite watering hole, the Breached Barrel,a cheerful little pub within stumbling distance of RCU. A favorite of students and faculty alike. Wordsmith burst in through the double doors and called out. "Tonight's on me lads!" The parade and the few early birds let out a ragged cheer.

The two dorm mates sat at a table by the wall within sight of the bar, the front door, and the back door. "It never hurts to have an escape route planned." Wordsmith would explain later.
The bar mare looked over and saw Wordsmith with another male and raised her eyebrow in confusion. His horn glowed and in letters that matched the beer signs about the bar the words "Roommate" and "2" appeared. The bar mare nodded, satisfied with this answer for now.

She brought over two pints of ice cold hard apple cider. Pressed and fermented in a small family run orchard in a little village within sight of Canterlot called Ponyville. The cider had such a short distance to travel that it tasted like it was pressed that morning. Wordsmith raised his glass to his nose and inhaled deeply. " Ah proof that the gods love us." He sipped his cider and his eyes rolled back in his head. He slid his drink closer to his dorm mate in token for him to drink it.

The earth pony eyed the drink warily. "What's in it?"

The unicorn coughed into his cider in disbelief. "Oh come now old colt! Surely you jest! What rock did you live under that you've never had the golden nectar of the gods, the social lubricant on which the machinery of society turns, the tears of the sun goddess herself." He raised his pint to the eastern wall,a gesture repeated by many of the pub patrons.

The fillysopher rolled his eyes at his dorm mate's theatrical temperament. "Forgive me for not being more clear with my question. What is cider made of?"

The poet rolled his eyes at his dorm mate's literal temperament. "It's fermented pressed apples now fucking drink it."

Roané lifted the glass and smelled it as he'd seen Wordsmith do. He had to admit, it did smell very good. He took a small sip and his eyes grew wide. His soul shifted in that moment and from then on this magical liquid would play a major part in his life. He downed the rest of the pint at a draught, he noticed a slight burn at the end of the glass. He grabbed the unicorn by the shoulders and shook him shouting. "WHAT IS THIS? WHAT IS THIS AND HOW DO I GET MORE?"

Wordsmith laughed heartily at the new found enthusiasm of the sour faced demon. "Atta colt! Good show. He finished his pint and called out. "TIPSY TWO MORE!" He sighed happily. The bar mare brought another two pints and winked at Wordsmith as she said. "You owe me for this Smithy." She brushed his face with her tail. He lifted the edge of her skirt with his magic and she giggled as she pulled it back down.

Wordsmith was about to sip his cider when he noticed the especially sour look on his roommate's face. "That was rude." He said, his normally hard voice a low growl.

The serial marenator raised his hooves defensively. "Easy old colt, easy. Tipsy Tables and I have an understanding. We've spent many a pleasant evening together." He called out loudly. "Haven't we tipsy?"

The bar mare giggled. "Very pleasant."

Roané raised an eyebrow at his roommate then simply shrugged his shoulders. He raised his pint and started to drink it quickly. Wordsmith reached out and gently lowered it with his hoof. "Easy dear colt! Savour the pleasant things in life while you may." He winked at the bar mare, she giggled again.

Roané sipped his cider more slowly and found it terribly pleasant. It was the single best thing he'd ever tasted. It didn't distract him from his disgust though. "So when will you make a mare out of her then?" He asked glibly.

"Oh dear colt." Wordsmith sat up straight. He hated this conversation but against the pony who could argue down Dean Grasping Hoof, this might be fun. "Don't you know that our ancestors used to be a polygamist species?"

"Our ancestors also used to sleep outside and eat exclusively grass. And maybe that's enough for you but I think I prefer libraries and cider thank you very much." He sipped his drink. A few of the ponies from the parade shifted in their seats to listen to the conversation. Maybe they'd get an encore of the Demon's rage against the Dean.

"And I prefer the boudoir and that is my right. Why should two consenting ponies not make love if they so chose. Do you deny a pony's agency in free choice of what to do or not do with their own body?" The crowd of ponies ohed at the point.

"Two ponies could consent to slapping each other with fishes until they die. It's still a damned foalish thing to, though they have the right to do so. " The crowd laughed at the absurdity of the metaphor. Wordsmith chuckled in spite of himself. "And I think that the propagation of the species should be handled with a bit more care, and dare I say reverence."

"And how, may I ask, does the romantic expert suggest one finds a mate? Selected by lottery perhaps?" The audience chuckled again. "Or shall we readopt the old way of selection by family?" He muttered to himself. "As dear old dad would have it." He sipped his drink testily

"CERTAINLY NOT!" Haycarte slammed his hooves into the table as he stood up. "The choice of a mate is the single most important choice a pony can make in their life. Rendering that choice to one's elders denies a pony their free will and the union will only and ever be one of necessity and custom, without tenderness or sentiment. It was a barbaric practice and it is the blessing of the nation that we're rid of it." A cheer went up from the audience.

Wordsmith grinned at seeing his own sentiments mirrored so exactly by the fillysopher. He raised his pint to his dorm mate. "WELL SAID OLD COLT!" The glass went untoasted. Haycartes merely sat down staring at the raised glass and brought an eyebrow up to match it. Wordsmith rolled his eyes. "Celestia inferna old colt. YOU SIMPLY MUST SHOW ME THAT CAVE YOU WERE RAISED IN ONE DAY. CAN YOU SERIOUSLY NOT KNOW WHAT A TOAST IS?!"

The earth pony's eyebrow raised again. "I was not raised under a rock. I lived in.-"

Wordsmith pinched the bridge of his nose with his magic, and raised a hoof for silence. "I know, I know, it is a metaphor meaning you are socially isolated to an incredible degree to the point where you do not understand social norms." He groaned audibly.

Roané considered the justice of the claim. "Hmm yes. That is fair to say."

"Now take your glass and tap it against mine then drink as a sign of camaraderie." He raised the glass again. The earth pony clinked his glass against the poet's and the audience cheered, the action was repeated by several pairs of ponies. "That's better old chap."

A memory struck Haycartes and he leaned in uncomfortably close to Wordsmith staring at him intensely. The poet leaned back slightly wondering what was on the fillysopher's mind. The earth pony raised his hoof. The unicorn glanced at it once then slapped it with his own. The fillysopher was dumbfounded. He stared at his hoof in disbelief. The poet analyzed the situation and again was struck with his dorm mate's lack of knowledge of social customs.

"Oh for FUCK'S SAKE! You mean to tell me you don't even know what a high hoof is? Oh this is simply too much." He grabbed Haycartes around the neck and raised his pint. "That does it. I'm taking you under my wing!' The crowd cheered again and the sound of several glasses tinkling resounded.

"You do not have wings. You are not a pegasus." The perpetually literal pony deadpanned.

Without lowering his pint or releasing the head Wordsmith said. "It is a metaphor for mentoring somepony." He turned to his dorm mate and spoke excitedly, as a pony does when taking on a new and interesting project. "I'll teach you how to drink, and sing, and love, and make a perfect scoundrel out of you. It will be a jolly good time!" He raised his pint again.

Haycartes sat and considered the offer. His two days at University had been an awkward transition and he clearly needed guidance in how to not offend his classmates. Then he did something no pony living up to that point had ever seen him do. He smiled. It concerned the assembled ponies as many of them thought him incapable of doing so. "Very well but only if you will grant me one favour." The pint was lowered slightly in confusion . "That I be allowed to call you my friend."

Wordsmith was utterly speechless and several in the audience laughed again. They'd just shared several pints and had a pleasant discussion, yet this odd bird felt the need to ask to be his friend. He laughed to himself as he adopted his most aristocratic air. "It would be an honor, and a privilege my good sir." He bowed comedically low.

Haycartes raised his pint and Wordsmith toasted it heartily and the two drained their pints. The audience cheered at the spectacle. The next several hours were spent in pleasant debate and delicious cider until something unfortunate happened.

Tipsy Tables the bar mare had just set down the latest in a long and storied legacy of pints when an overly amorous pegasus came up to her and squeezed her flank with his hoof. She squeaked and tried to slap the offending pony but he stepped into the blow causing her to wrap a front leg around his neck. "Easy baby! I like it gentle"

He was gently but firmly pulled down into a chair by Wordsmith. "Easy old chap. But don't you know that persuasion is better.~" He was cut off by a hoof glancing off of his right cheek. Roané stepped between the pegasus and the unicorn. The pegasus didn't stop to ask questions. He sent a much better aimed hoof straight into Haycartes' muzzle. It didn't seem to bother him that much.

The earth pony sent the pegasus flying backwards without using his wings with a crashing blow from a left hoof. The offending pegasus hit the wall by the bar with an audible thud and was out cold. The two other ponies turned as one to see Roané nonchallantly shaking the pain out of his hoof. He met their eyes questioningly. "What? He hit me first."

"Good show old chap!" The poet shouted while rubbing the pain out of his left cheek.

Tipsy nodded and said, "Thanks hun. Tonight it's on the house," and winked. She walked back behind the bar and made sure to stomp on the pegasus' nether regions with a back hoof as she did so.

It was at this moment Sawbones made his entrance. He saw the unconscious pegasus on the floor and sighed. He knelt down by the stricken pony and felt his muzzle and the back of his head with his hoof. "Well nothing broken. Might have a concussion. Well besides a bad headache you should be fine. Bill's in the mail." He stepped towards his friend. "Flirting with married mares again?" He took his place at the table.

"Sawbones old chap you wound me. I said I'd stop and I have!" The medical student looked disbelievingly at his friend. Wordsmith pounded the table with his hoof. "Okay that incident in Trotterdam doesn't count. I ASKED. SHE LIED!" Sawbones tilted his head accepting the justice of the statement.

"I say old colt what kept you? Was it that little blue pegasus I keep catching you with?" He brought his face uncomfortably close to the other unicorn wiggling his eyebrows. The poor pony could only stammer at the question as Tipsy brought him his pint.

He turned his face away as he drank trying to recenter himself. "Umm so umm Roané." He cleared his throat to change the subject. "I've heard some interesting rumors about you today. I hear you've picked up a nickname."

"Ah yes!" The poet put on his best herald voice and grabbed his friend around the neck pointing his pint at Haycartes. "Sawbones old colt, allow me to introduce you to the Demon of Diogeneigh's Hall! Slayer of the Dragon and conqueror of the Dean himself!"

"Demon?" Haycartes asked over his pint.

"But of course dear colt. After all what's the only thing more terrifying than a dragon?" Wordsmith chuckled.

"You exaggerate." Roané retorted.

Sawbones scoffed. "Does he? Let's review. In the last two days you've made the meanest professor at RCU cry. You've punched a protestor. You've been kicked off the debate team for making the captain cry, AND you charged into the Dean's office, you know, the Dean that expels students and fires faculty on a whim, and left with a job. Did I leave anything out?" He fluttered his eyelashes sarcastically over his pint.

"He also sent our winged friend here across the room with his hoof." Wordsmith chuckled over his cider.

"Damn it all! I always forget something." Sawbones snapped.

"You are simply hopeless my friend." Wordsmith sighed. Roané gave the two an odd look but said nothing.

Sawbones perked up. "Apropos Cartes! I've not been able to get a straight answer about that incident.

"Yes old colt." He stood up and struck a pose with his hoof in the air. "Tell us how you slew the Dragon!"

The earth pony rolled his eyes. " Only if you explain why everypony seems to delight in his misery." He said testily.

"Easy old colt. Don't assume malice. We don't revel in the shame of the defeated. We rejoice that an odious pony has been humbled." The two took turns explaining the character of the head of the fillysophy department and his reign of terror. Haycartes face changed from anger, to rage, to disgust, to disappointment, back to rage.

"A SCHOLAR OF HIS TENURE SHOULD KNOW BETTER." He smashed the table with his hoof. "WHY HAS HE NOT BEEN REPORTED? WHY HAS A FORMAL INQUEST NOT BEEN MADE?" He glared back and forth between the two unicorns. "DOES THE DEAN KNOW ABOUT THIS?"

Sawbones chuckled in spite of himself. "My friend the Dean's the one who perpetuates it." They explained the nature and depth of the corruption of RCU and again the same changes of mood in the fillysopher. The few remaining audience ponies started to ease back in fear the demon might literally combust.

"THAT IS CRONYISM OF THE HIGHEST ORDER. THIS CANNOT STAND! WE ARE FAILING AS CITIZENS OF EQUESTRIA IF WE ALLOW THIS!" His face was red and the vein standing out from it threatened to burst.

The two unicorns chuckled and coaxed the raging demon back into his seat. "Cartes it's really not that simple. To whom would you have us report him?" The poet asked.

Sawbones sipped his cider. "RCU is under direct supervision of the princess herself." The two unicorns raised their pints to the eastern wall. " She's the only one he could be reported to, and in case you haven't noticed, she's just a little bit busy."

"Running Equestria, seeing foreign diplomats, oh and not to mention the small itty bitty matter of MAINTAINING THE COSMIC BALANCE OF THE FUCKING PLANET. But please, let me take time out of my busy schedule to hear all about how your teacher's a meanie bo beanie." Wordsmith rubbed his eye with his hoof. Sawbones chuckled to himself.

Haycartes sat deflated. "So there's really nothing to be done?" He looked between the two desperate for some kind of hope for justice to be done.

The two unicorns simply shook their heads sadly. Sawbones put a hoof on the Demon's shoulder. "I'm sorry my friend, but hey you certainly won a victory over them today with your little display." Haycartes brightened slightly.

Wordsmith chuckled heartily. "Indeed old colt you really stuck it to them what what!" He raised his pint and the three toasted. "Now then out with it! How did you do it?"

Roané looked uncertainly at his two friends. After all Sawbones did just call him his friend didn't he. He told the story just as it had happened, and the truth was more shocking than the rumors had been. The audience was in wrapped attention at its telling and by the end the entire bar, Tipsy Tables included was roaring with laughter.

"Hey hey hey Smith smithy Smith. Aristrotle sir!" And the two were roaring again.

Haycartes found nothing funny running a hoof through his prematurely greyed mane. "I just can't believe a pony of his education could be so unwise." He smashed his hoof on the table causing the pints to jump and the unicorns to cease their mirth. "I should have his tenure revoked." His normally hard voice became a snarling growl. "If not his HEAD ON A PIKE!"

The two unicorns raised their glasses. "Well said old colt. Keep it up and someday you just may!" The two were laughing again.

Sawbones could see how deeply the subject bothered his friend. He placed a his on his friend's shoulder. "Oh don't worry about it Cartes. After all maybe this will humble the ill tempered pony."

Wordsmith felt Haycartes could use a distraction. "How about a song?" He shoved Sawbones onto his hooves, the medical student, being a bit of a bard in his own right, started a popular song in his pleasant tenor about a sailing ship called the Santiano. Soon the tavern's rafters shook with the chorus. The two unicorns pulled Haycartes onto his hooves. "Come on Carte, sing with us!" Sawbones called out cheerily.

The earth pony waved his hooves defensively. "Uuum no no really, I I don't sing."

The medical student frowned at his friend." Oh come now everypony sings!"

Wordsmith smirked. "Drinking without singing is just swallowing." He scrambled up onto the table and began the third verse.

Haycartes decided to hazard an attempt. He waited until the chorus and joined in. What escaped his mouth sounded like a dragon arguing with a blender. The song stopped with an audible record scratch sound effect. The sound was so powerful it was heard all over Equestria.

At Mercy Oak Hospital in lower Manehattan, a unicorn nurse was filling out the birth certificate of a new born white unicorn filly. He was about to write in the name Record Spinner when the record scratch sound effect hit him. His horn went haywire and the name "Vinyl Scratch" scrawled across the page in electric blue graffiti letters. Thus changing her destiny forever, and causing one poor pony named Mix Tape to miss his destiny of owning a used record store with her and dying cold and alone.

Both unicorns clapped a hoof over his mouth. "NEVER MIND YOU'RE ALLOWED TO NOT SING!" The whole tavern had a good laugh, and the rest of the evening was spent on a much lighter note. Many pints were drank and many stores shared.

"Oh do be cautious though Cartes. It's very easy to overdo cider," Sawbones said after Haycartes ordered his umpteenth cider.

Roané raised an eyebrow. "How can one overdo cider?"

The medical student sat up and adopted an air of medical professionalism. "One can get alcohol poisoning."

Haycartes' face blanked with surprise. "Cider contains alcohol?"

Wordsmith facehoofed. "How? HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN TO EXPLAIN WHAT DRINKING WAS? Honestly dear colt you must show us that cave you were raised in someday. "

Sawbones sighed heavily. "Yes Cartes cider contains five percent alcohol by volume. "

Haycartes tried to glare at Wordsmith but could only frown. "I would not have drank it if I'd known it was alcohol. How many times have I passed a pony living the hollow life of a beggar. Living to drink and drinking to live." He said sipping his pint, in complete contradiction of his words.

"Ah but dear colt name a fillysopher who didn't drink." The poet said knowingly.

"Much less write tracts on their love of the depressant." Sawbones added.

Haycartes was once again stimied in his objection. "Very well my friends. I will drink with you." Roané attempted to rise but immediately fell over and passed right out.

The two unicorns lifted the unconscious earth pony onto their shoulders. "For the love of Celestia, how many did you have?"

Tipsy tables overhearing the question shouted "Fifteen!"

Sawbones gave his trademark frown. The poet gave his best "You love me so you can't be mad" smile. He knew the conversation was over. They carried the unconscious pony back to his dorm. It had been the best night that Haycartes had ever had.

That night started a tradition between the three. Haycartes would be reported to the Dean. Haycartes would argue him down. Then the three would drink the night away arguing with Sawbones as the moderator. It was the happiest time of Roané Haycartes' life. Until one day this happy state of affairs came to an abrupt end.

But more on that later.