A Pony Walks Into A Bar...

by chief maximus

Chapters

Bonus Chapter: Gilda
Bonus Chapter: Trixie
Bonus Chapter: St. Paddy's Day Special!
Applejack
Rainbow Dash
Rarity
Fluttershy
Twilight Sparkle
Pinks
The Princess

Bonus Chapter: Gilda

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Bonus Chapter: Trixie

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Bonus Chapter: St. Paddy's Day Special!

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Applejack

... You'd think he would have seen it coming! Sorry, old bartender joke. Now that the corny old gag is out of the way, I'll bet you're here for a few stories from a salty old booze slinger, eh? Of course you are! Why else would you be here?

Anyway, Monday was an evening like any other. My regulars had all settled into their usual seats, ordering their usual drinks while the wait staff busily attended to their booze and food needs. But before we get into all that, I should probably introduce myself.

The name's Frosty Mug. I've been a bartender at the Horn and Wings tavern for as long as I've been in Ponyville (which is a pretty long time, mind you). I've got stories for years, and I could talk your ear off until you told me to shut it. But I know that look in your eye. You want to hear about the week those 'special' Elemental ponies or whatever fancy title they have came in, don't ya?

Well have a seat here at the bar and I'll spin you a tale.

On an evening not unlike this one, a mare in a stetson nearly pulled the door off its hinges coming in. To say she looked upset would be an understatement. With customers like that, it's best to just serve them and leave 'em be. If they want to open up, they will. A bartender has to have an air of approachability, or he won't get tips... or repeat customers.

Anyway, she strode right up to the bar and hopped up. Being the astute unicorn I am, I figured she wasn't in the mood for any flavor-infused vodka or fruity cocktails. If the callouses on her hooves and dirt on her face where any indication, she'd be swilling the high proof stuff. Whiskey, if I had to guess.

"What's the highest proof bourbon ya got?" she asked flatly. I guess I wasn't as sharp as I used to be. She took off her hat and set it beside her. Not many ponies knew it was good manners to remove a hat while indoors anymore. I suspected she was a country pony, but her accent and mannerisms confirmed my suspicions.

"Wild Turkey 101, miss..."

"Applejack."

I floated the bottle down from the top shelf.

"Two shots and a glass on the rocks," she sighed, rubbing her eyes with her hooves. I retrieved a shot glass and filled 'er up.

Down it went, like a foal drinking milk. No grimace, no cough, she took it better than most stallions I've ever seen, myself included. She seemed pretty distraught over something, and my duty as a bartender to lend a sympathetic ear was calling.

"Rough day?" I asked, pouring her the second shot. She downed it smoothly before setting the shot glass back down.

"Yeah. Better now though."

She was a pony of few words; I could appreciate that. I left her to the drink she ordered and went to tend to a few other patrons down the bar. By the time I got back, she was almost empty. A vacant, thousand-yard stare went past my liquor shelves and out into the distance. I could tell this pony had something on her mind, but it was not my place to pry. If she wanted to open up, she would.

As it turns out, all it took was a bit of social lubricant to loosen up that tongue. When I swung back by, she was a bit more talkative.

"Another round?" I asked.

"Yep. Just leave the bottle."

"Tell you what. Normally I wouldn't do this, but since you're the only pony with the manners to remove their hat indoors, I'll leave it with you," I replied, setting the bottle and a clean glass next to her.

"You're alright, mister," she said, finally giving me a smile. I hate seeing customers try to drown their sorrows. You'd think I'd love it because it means more sales, but the truth is, not talking about a problem is a lot worse than ignoring it. Especially ignoring it with alcohol.

"Thanks. Must be one heck of a celebration for you to need the whole thing."

She scoffed, throwing back another shot. "Ah ain't exactly celebratin'."

I frowned, picking up my usual habit of cleaning a glass with a cloth. "Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, well... ain't no use cryin' over it," she sighed, pouring herself another shot.

I'm one of those ponies who believes in the power of speech. When I say that, I mean that almost every problem can be solved if you just talk about it. It could be to your best friend, your mother, or a strange bartender. In my experience, opening up about a problem can make it seem less troublesome than it really is.

"'Scuse me for prying, but it seems to me a pretty young mare like yourself is somewhat out of place in a seedy old watering hole like this at..." I checked my watch. "...three in the afternoon."

She cracked a smile at my compliment, but not much else.

"Thanks, but you're barkin' up the wrong tree."

Ah. Not many mares would be bold enough to admit something like that out here in the sticks. Maybe in Canterlot or Manehattan, but most folk were pretty discreet about alternative lifestyles around rural places like Ponyville. Though I must admit, she looked like she could handle any bigots this town could drag up.

"Girl trouble, huh?" I asked. As a male lesbian myself, I could relate.

"You don't know the half of it, partner," said Applejack, throwing back another shot and pouring herself one more. She could also handle her liquor better than most stallions I'd ever seen. Five shots of the second strongest liquor in the house and she looked like she'd just walked in.

"I know I'm just an old geezer, but I'd be willing to lend an ear if you feel like telling your story."

Her eyes scanned me before looking back down at the bottle and slamming her next shot. This time she hissed as she exhaled, slamming a hoof down on the bar.

"Think about it," I told her, heading back to the other end to refill some of my other customers drinks. They were certainly in better moods than Ms. Applejack, but I couldn't help but find myself curious as to what kind of pony—lesbian or otherwise—would turn down such a gal.

By the time I'd gotten back to her end of the bar, she was actually making eye contact with me. Quite the improvement over her apparent anger at my liquor shelves. I passed by, pretending to get another glass when she spoke.

"There's this mare..." she began, taking one last shot to gather her nerves before continuing. "We've known each other for a while now, and we were gettin' pretty close to each other."

"Yeah?" I said idly, just trying to keep the conversation going.

"Yeah. Anyway, we'd known each other for about a year and some change, and Ah noticed she'd start hangin' around the farm more and more often," she recalled, resting her cheek on her hoof as she lowered her eyes in contemplation. "We were inseparable, whenever one would show up without the other, they'd ask 'Where's Applejack, Rainbow?' or 'Where's Rainbow, Applejack?"

I nodded. I'd heard similar stories before, but I could tell this mare really had her eyes set on this 'Rainbow' character. "She sounds nice," I added, continuing to wipe the same bar glass that was already clean.

"She is. Ah've never met another mare like her. Don't think Ah ever will, neither," she sighed, casting her emerald eyes up at me, only for a moment. The last part of the story was no doubt the hardest, but I waited for her to start again.

"Anyway, she and Ah... Ah could swear the two of us had somethin' between us. Somethin' real, somethin' that meant more than just enjoyin' each other's company. But Ah guess the feelin' wasn't mutual." She frowned, pouring and downing another shot like it was water.

"So ya fessed up and got shot down, huh?" I asked. "That's the way it is sometimes. Happens to the best of us," I assured her. Celestia knows how many times I've been shut out, and not in the politest ways, either.

"That ain't even what's so upsettin'. It'd be one thing if she just wasn't into mares—and she ain't, by the way." She paused to rub her eyes with her hooves before staring back at the shelves behind me. "If it were just a matter of her barn door not swingin' that way, Ah'd be okay with that, and hope she found a stallion to treat her right."

I was a bit confused by that last part. "So, if she isn't into mares, then what's the problem?" I asked.

She looked at me with a dead stare and said, "The reason she'd been comin' by the farm so much was because she was sneakin' off with my brother and lettin' him rut her silly," she groaned. "Ah should be the one whose name she's screamin', not his!"

Maybe she wasn't as good at hiding the effects of hard liquor as I thought. Still, she'd done well to still be sitting on the barstool after what she'd drank, let alone speaking coherently.

"I take it you had the misfortune of figuring this information out firsthoof?" I asked.

Then she did something I wasn't expecting. She laughed. "You bet. Ah heard somethin' movin' around up in the hay loft 'round midnight. Ah went up, thinkin' it was some wayward critter or some such, when—wouldn't ya know it—there was the girl Ah thought had feelin's for me bein' rutted like a damn deer in heat." She paused to take one last shot before sliding the half-full bottle back toward me.

"You shoulda seen the look on their faces when they realized they weren't alone. Celestia have mercy, Ah didn't think Mac's face could get that red! And Rainbow, Ah tell ya Ah've never seen somepony so embarrassed before in their life!" she chuckled, changing from her somber mood to a bit more jovial one thanks to good ol' bourbon.

I smiled and suppressed a few laughs myself. After her giggles died down, she looked back toward me, a slight smile still tugging at her lips. "What do you have to sip on in this place?"

I produced a beer and cider menu from behind the bar. I had noticed her cutie mark and recalled it was a similar design to the logo on the kegs of cider we get from one of the farms outside of town. A husband and wife ran the best apple orchards in all of Ponyville. They even delivered the cider kegs personally, 'til one day they stopped showing up. Word was there'd been an accident on their farm. Grain dust explosion if I recall correctly. Took 'em both, but they were gone instantly. Left behind three foals from what I understand, but I didn't want to risk bringing that up in case it was still a tender subject (or if I was completely off base).

"Ah'll have the Magic Hat number nine," she said, handing me back the menu, her mood having improved tenfold since she wandered in with a near scowl on her face. Booze can't cure everything, but it sure can turn around a sour mood.

"Good choice, that's my favorite tap," I said, filling up a pint and sliding it over. She sipped the beer, exhaling softly as she stared down into the foaming head.

I know when a pony's wheels are turning, and hers were no doubt spinning. The small smile had left, leaving her a neutral expression that soon faded into a frown.

"Ah can't believe Ah didn't see it sooner," she mumbled, taking another sip.

"Nopony's psychic. There's no way you could have known what she was trying for," I reminded her.

"That's the thing! If Ah knew her as well as Ah thought Ah did, Ah should have seen this comin' from a mile away!" she complained, slouching over in her seat. "On top of that, now Ah have ta know my own brother is gettin' the one thing Ah've wanted for so long. They're probably waist deep in each other right now!"

That was a little more than I needed to know. Regardless, as far as drink-induced admittances go, that one was mild.

"Well, perhaps she wasn't the mare you thought she was if she knew how you felt and still went around trying to be with your brother behind your back."

Her mood shifted yet again, this time a flush came over her cheeks. "Well... ya see, Ah didn't exactly... tell her what Ah was thinkin'," she admitted sheepishly.

"So, you're mad at her for something she didn't know?" I asked incredulously.

"When you put it that way..." she muttered, her mouth obscured by her glass as she drank.

"Look, I'm not a therapist or anything, but like I said before, talking helps, does it not?"

She shrugged, but I think she knew where I was going with this.

"Ah guess."

"Then why don't you just sit her down and get your feelings off your chest. She may stay with your brother, she may decide what she's doing isn't right with you two living in the same house, who knows!" I explained, my cleaning cloth still wiping the same glass as before.

"You know what mister, you're right!" she declared, finishing up her beer and pounding her hoof on the bar. "Ah'm gonna have a talk with Rainbow and finally let her know how Ah feel!"

"That's the spirit!" I said, cheering her on as she grabbed her hat, tipped it to me and strode confidently out the door, not even looking vaguely intoxicated.

It was only then I realized that she drank almost 125 bits worth of liquor and left without paying.

Shit.

Rainbow Dash

The rest of the evening went by without incident. I decided I'd give Ms. Applejack a day to come and repay her debt before sending Rocko after her. He was a gentle soul, but his size and appearance frightened most deadbeats into coming up with a tab they ran out on. Honestly though, I think she just forgot.

Anyway, wouldn't you know it, around the same time the next day, another stranger came in, looking just as sour as the last non-regular. Unlike the last one, I could have guessed her name by looking at her.

She fluttered over to the bar and flopped down on a stool. "What can I get you, Rainbow Dash?" I asked. Boy, I'd be embarrassed if it wasn't her.

"I dunno," she sighed, "what do you—wait. How'd you know my name?"

Looked like Rainbow Dash was unaware of the giant multi-colored neon sign on top of her head. "Just a lucky guess," I said. "What'll it be?"

"Start me off with some apple cider."

"Comin' up," I replied as I walked to grab a pint glass. She seemed just as distraught as the mare before her, and I might hazard a guess as to why. After all, it can't be easy having your best friend dump their feelings in your lap while you're trying to date their brother.

I slid her pint across the bar and she caught it like a pro. Maybe she was a regular somewhere else?

Ordinarily, I wouldn't start the conversation. I like my patrons to regale me if they wish, but if not, I'm fine to let them sit and drink in silence. Some of them even prefer it that way, and I've got tips to prove it! Anyway, I went ahead and stuck my nose in where it may not have belonged.

"By chance, do you know a mare named Applejack?"

She ran a hoof through her mane and let out an exasperated sigh.

"You could say that." She sipped her cider as she flicked her eyes back up to me. "Why?"

"She was in here yesterday," I said. No need to reveal how much she'd told me. I still wanted a tip, after all. "Seemed pretty upset."

She rolled her eyes. Looked like I was right. "Yeah, well," she began, pausing for a few seconds before setting her glass down. "This cider's out of season."

Everpony's a critic. It's not my fault the farmers that make this stuff only make it once a year! It doesn't exactly keep well, but it's not gonna go 'bad' either.

I gave her a nod and went back to my regulars. I didn't think she'd be much for talking, but as soon as I got back over there, she opened up.

"You ever have somepony assume something about you, just 'cause of the way you look?" she asked. I chuckled a bit.

Now, I'm not the most handsome stallion in Ponyville, but I know my stubble, bit of a gut and affinity for cigars after work can put ideas into a pony's head about what it is I do for a living. You wouldn't believe how many drunks think I can get them mint leaves. I'm only a purveyor of legal drugs! Anyway...

"Sometimes. You don't get to be a bartender without lookin' the part," I replied. "But this ain't about me, is it?"

"Not at all," she said before taking another swig. A brief pause followed before she began her tirade. "Just because somepony's mane is different, and they like sports, doesn't mean they're... a certain way!" she finished. "I mean, just because I don't let ponies rub my hooves or any other part of me at the spa every other day like Rarity, I'm some kind of..." She trailed off into her drink as she chugged the rest of her cider.

"Remember that 'Applejack' that you said you knew?" she asked, wiping her mouth. I nodded. "Yeah well, she came over to my place last night, and she pretty much confessed her undying love for me... 'Nother cider." She exhaled deeply, sliding her mug back toward me. I refilled it and she continued her story.

"Do you have any idea how awkward that is? Especially when I had to hide her brother underneath the bed 'cause she just barged in there like she owned the place!" she finished, sipping a bit on her fresh cider.

"Applejack made it seem like she caught you two together," I recalled, "so why hide her brother?"

A blush fell over her cheeks as she broke eye contact, becoming intensely interested in her mug. "Well, she caught us during one of our... 'vanilla sessions'," she explained, glancing up at me briefly as I raised an eyebrow.

"Vanilla sessions?" I asked.

"Let's just say that when Mac and I have the time to set up, our roleplaying can get a little wild. I didn't think AJ needed to see her brother in his... uhm, gear."

And it was on that night that the record for too much information garnered by a bartender from his patron was shattered, and its pieces ground up and snorted by rockstars.

"Anyway," she said loudly, getting both of us back on track. I had long since begun cleaning my handy wiping glass as she continued, "Applejack comes over and asks to head to my room—where Mac is hiding," she began, before taking another sip, "and asks to sit on the bed, which Mac is under. Clouds don't have lots of support for earth ponies, even after they drink that cloud walker potion, so we were pretty much sitting on his chest the whole time." She began smiling as she went on, probably the for the first time since walking in.

"I don't know how he didn't make a sound, but he managed to keep quiet until she left," she said, her words broken up by laughter.

"But, Applejack ended up telling me all this about how she's been in love with me since we first met, can't stop thinking about me, blah, blah," she finished, waving a hoof dismissively. It was possible her ciders were already sneaking up on her. Pegasi generally can't hold their liquor as well as other ponies.

"Seems a bit harsh..." I answered.

"Well, it wasn't like I didn't love AJ, I just... didn't love her in the way she apparently loves me," she sighed, putting both hooves over her face. "I feel like such a jerk for throwing her feelings back in her face, but I couldn't lie to her!" she lamented. "What was I supposed to do?"

That was a great question. I had never encountered a situation like this during my 'young and reckless' years. I decided to echo what she'd already said.

"Well, you didn't lie to her, which was a good thing. Better for her to know the truth than keep wondering, I guess."

"But why does the truth have to suck so much?"

I shrugged. Didn't have an answer for that one. Often times, the right thing to do is the thing that sucks the hardest.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, what did you tell her?" There I go, sticking my nose where it doesn't belong again.

She sighed heavily. "That I just wasn't into mares... gah! That isn't even true! I mean, have you seen Spitfire?" Of course I had. In fact, I'd be in serious trouble if the wife found the magazines I keep stashed away.

"So I take it the real reason was a bit harder to tell her?"

She took another drink and nodded. "You don't know the half of it."

I gave her problem a moment's pause before trying to lighten the mood a bit. "Too bad you can't just bed them both and be done with it, eh?" I said jokingly. Her face slowly began to light up at the suggestion.

"Hey, you're right!" she said, perking up a bit. "Why can't I just do that?"

I wasn't sure if she was serious, so I gave a rather obvious answer. "They're brother and sister, would be my guess."

Rainbow Dash deflated as soon as I brought this up. "Oh, right. I guess they probably wouldn't be too happy about sharing me," she mumbled, taking another sip of cider. "Not that I can blame them."

I was extremely glad to have defused a potentially incestuous plan hatched at my bar (I've inspired some pretty absurd schemes, but no way did I need that on my conscience), but I could tell this young mare was still in a bit of a bind.

"Sounds to me like you just need to find the right words for her," I suggested.

"Well, duh," she replied, finishing another cider. "That's why I'm here."

I thought for a moment before returning to our conversation. "So, you need to find the right words to tell Applejack why it won't work," I began.

"Yeah... I just said that."

"Right, well start there!" I said, sliding her another cider and noticing my delinquent tab from last night coming through the door. "Why won't it work?"

"Because..." She put a hoof to her chin. "I mean... it isn't because she isn't pretty. She's one of the cutest mares I know. It's not even that I wouldn't consider another mare instead of a stallion, it's just..." I could see she was searching for the words. Best to let her find them on her own. "If something happened and we broke up, or got in a fight, or did something to change the way we look at each other, I don't think I could do without her as my friend," she explained, seeming to discover these feelings as she described them.

"I just... I'd hate myself if I screwed up the amazing friendship we have now. If she weren't there for me to talk to, for me to confide in, I don't know what I'd do." She exhaled, looking up at me with a sincerity in her eyes I don't see much in this business. "I can't risk it. I won't. That may sound selfish, but that's why." After she'd finished her exposition, she slumped back into her chair, wings dropping and ears flattened against her head.

"It ain't selfish, Sugarcube."

I couldn't have timed that more perfectly if I'd tried. Applejack's voice made Dash's ears (and the rest of her) jump to attention as she whipped around on the barstool.

"A-AJ? You heard all that?" she stammered. Even from behind her, I could tell she was as red as the apples on my cider barrels.

"Ah did. Ah'd just come back ta pay my tab," she said, tossing a sackful of bits my way before walking closer to Rainbow. "But Ah heard what you said."

Rainbow looked back to me, then back at Applejack. I could see the panic in her eyes. She was trapped!

"Well... I meant it. Applejack, you're my best friend, and I love you. I'm... I'm just not in love with you." I could tell that cliche hurt her as much to say as it hurt Applejack to hear. "I wouldn't trade what we have for a million Wonderbolt jobs, and I mean that."

"Well, it ain't exactly welcome news, but Ah'm glad you told me your true feelin's."

Rainbow went from terrified to comforted in no time flat. She hopped off her barstool (but not before paying her tab) and embraced Applejack. It's that kind of thing that makes selling booze to drunks, strangers and weirdos all worth it. That, and resolving ponies' emotional crises certainly does well for the old tip jar.

After those two came a knocking, I was convinced a light dusting of liquor could solve any ailment. That is, until a fashionable mare I could have sworn I'd be more likely to see in Canterlot than in Ponyville walked through my door the very next night. Her mane was purple, her coat as white as driven snow. The next night would belong to one: Lady Rarity.

Rarity

I remember her setting hoof in my bar like it was yesterday...

The fog of a typical Ponyville night rolled in as her silhouette appeared in the moonlight. With a triumphant hoof, she pushed the door open and strode in, her head held high, as though she'd just been crowned princess herself. Something told me this wouldn't be another sob story.

Although, my tavern didn't seem like the place a mare like her would be planning to celebrate something. Anyway, I don't look gift dragons in the mouth, so I was glad to see her saunter over and sit at my end.

"Barkeep, a cosmarepolitan, please."

"Right away," I said, preparing my tumbler and a martini glass. Her proud demeanor was a welcome change to the first two mares I'd had in here.

"I never forget a face, especially one as beautiful as yours," I said, pouring her drink in front of her. She took the compliment without missing a beat. I could tell this mare had heard those words before. "You don't come here often, do ya?"

"Not usually, but, one looks the way one feels." She smiled, taking a sip of her cocktail. "Besides, it isn't every day Princess Celestia herself asks you to design her gala dress for next year, and pays you triple the estimate!"

"Triple? I bet Mr. Fashion designer is pretty happy about that too, eh?"

She blushed. I may be a gruff old goat, but it felt good to know I could still make a mare blush a bit.

"Oh, there's no mister," she corrected. "The name is Rarity."

Sweet Celestia, if only I were ten years younger! "So you mean to tell me not a single pony in town has their eyes on you?"

She sighed. Mares are like minefields: one false step and boom! Mood ruined.

"Well... there aren't any ponies that I know of, but a certain dragon has pined for me for years, I'm afraid."

Interspecies stuff, huh? Well, we take all kinds here, not that I'm one to judge. I once had a pretty awesome set up with a griffon girl I knew back in college, but this isn't about me.

"Really? Unrequited love is never fun," I said sympathetically.

Rarity slammed the rest of her drink and tapped a hoof on the bar. "It's not exactly unrequited," she replied hesitantly, "I certainly care for Spike, and I do love him, just... perhaps not in the way he would like."

She took another forlorn glance at her empty glass before I poured her another cosmo.

"Love is a battlefield, as they say..." she sighed.

"So a dragon kid has the hots for ya, does he?" I simplified. Sometimes the best thing to say is the thing already said. It makes you feel intelligent without having contributed anything to the conversation.

"It certainly appears that way. I'd hoped he'd realize our age difference made us incompatible. I feel terrible for saying this, but I thought—hoped, even—he'd at least make a play for my little sister. At least she's of similar age."

I shrugged. Everypony's had an unrequited love at least once. When I was but a spry young colt, my foalsitter was the object of my affection. Candy Stripe was a queen, where I was but a mere peasant. The ground trembled in jealousy of her grace as she walked, and her very presence left me feeling a foot tall. Anyway, this story is about Rarity's problems, not mine.

"Didn't work out so well, did it?" It's not hard to read ponies. She wouldn't have told me in such a somber mood if it didn't end tragically.

"No," she sighed, resting a hoof on her cheek while circling the rim of the glass with her other hoof. "I've stopped just short of telling him he has no chance."

"Well, if it's true, then why haven't you?"

"I wish I could tell you. A part of me just can't stand to see him brokenhearted, and Spike deserves to be happy with somepony... or some dragon. I can't continue leading him on like this, but I simply couldn't see my life without him."

Looks like somepony's got something a bit more than friendship. "So let me see if I have this right," I began. "You've got a young dragon with a crush on you, yet you don't know how to break it to him that a relationship is out of the question because of the age difference?" There was only one dragon in our town, so it wasn't hard to figure out which one she was referring to.

"Indeed," she replied, finishing her drink and signaling for another. "Why does life have to be so complex?"

I smiled. Many a patron have sat and pondered that very same thought. "What fun would it be if it weren't?"

"It may not be exciting, but at least it would be predictable," she lamented.

"If you don't mind my asking, why don't any other ponies have their eyes on you?" It seemed like a reasonable enough question, though she didn't think so.

"I'll have you know I-I..." She sighed, holding her perfectly curled mane away from her face as a combination of alcohol and reflection gave her a somewhat emotional epiphany.

"I'm a shut-in!" she whined. And boy could she whine. "All I do all day is slave away behind a sewing machine, and for what? Over half the population doesn't even wear clothes!"

"Well, being a tailor in Equestria is kind of like being a bottle of fine champagne. You aren't used for every occasion, only the really special ones," I consoled, trying to lighten her mood from the somber thoughts of her poor career choice.

It didn't seem to work: she might be an aggressive drinker. "I'm a seamstress, thank you very much. I'll have you know ponies line up to wear one of my designs to any formal event!"

"See? You're not as useless as you think!"

Whoops.

"Useless?!" she snapped. I'd have to think quickly if I didn't want to wear the rest of her cosmo.

"I didn't mean useless as in 'you have no use.' I meant it as in 'You..." C'mon Frosty, think! "...don't have a purpose at this time because nothing extra special is happening!'"

Her glare held for a moment, then softened. Her shoulders slumped back and her ears returned from their pinned position.

"Yes, well, I wouldn't expect a bartender to know the ins-and-outs of the fashion world..."

I was lucky to get away with just a patronizing insult. I diffused that situation so quickly, I should be a bomb squad pony!

"Sounds to me like you just need something to occupy your downtime."

She slammed her drink and stared at her empty glass, contemplating another round.

"It's the truth. I try to spend time with Sweetie Belle, but she's simply too young to do anything but hold fabric and pin pieces together," she explained, signaling me for one more drink. Not that I cared; cosmos were nine bits a glass! "Looking back on it now, the only other adult ponies I interact with are my friends, and they really don't... get me."

Now we're getting somewhere.

"Friends? You mean those other ponies I always see you with in the newspapers?" Rarity smiled. Everypony loves to be recognized.

"Yes, that's them. I love them all dearly, but I always find myself grinning and bearing through whatever uncouth activity one of them gets involved in, while the moment I ask for help modeling a new design, all I get are excuses," she huffed. "Sometimes I think the only reason I see Fluttershy on a regular basis is because she uses my spa membership. None of my other friends ever want... t-to,"

Sound the alarm, waterworks inbound. I could see the dim lighting of the bar reflecting in her eyes as they welled up. Tears wouldn't be far behind. Honestly, I've seen enough high-maintenance types come to the old town watering hole enough to know they usually wouldn't set hoof in a place like this if not for the assurance that nopony of importance would see them here.

I keep a box of tissues behind the bar for just such an occasion.

"I'm destined to be a lonely, barren old spinster!" she admitted rather loudly, throwing her hooves into the air. "None of my friends ever spend time with me unless they need something from me, but when I need something from them, they're nowhere to be found!"

"C'mon now, just because your friends aren't into fashion doesn't mean they don't like you."

"That's exactly what it means!" she complained, though not without reason. "I mean, if we weren't the Elements of Harmony, would we even know each other?"

That was a good question, and one I didn't have an answer to. I wasn't really that good at dealing with existential crises, believe it or not. Girl trouble? No problem. Guy trouble? I could at least lend a male perspective. Want to know how to remove grass stains from the back of a gala dress after a romp in the garden outside the palace with a beautiful stranger? Uh... I'm thinking club soda, maybe? I dunno, but you get the idea.

Anyway, I knew I had to do my best as a bartender to console the borderline hysterical mare. "I can't say you'd know each other, but you do now, right?"

"Yes..."

"Well then, seems to me like you should just make the best of what you have. May I ask if you've ever tried to get your other friends interested in your line of work?"

She calmed down considerably, controlling her sobs and steadying her hooves. "Not really..."

"Maybe you should. Who's that pony you said you go to the spa with?"

"Fluttershy," she replied softly.

"Why not ask her if she'd be willing to help you out sometime?" I suggested.

"She does have a good understanding of stitching..."

"There ya go! And I'm sure your younger sister and this 'Spike' you told me about would probably love spending more time with you."

She paused, considering my words before sliding her glass toward me. "I'm ready for my tab," she said confidently. Hopefully I'd gotten through to her, but I'll never know for sure.

As I tallied up her bill, I couldn't help but notice another customer sit beside her. He was a tall green and purple dragon wearing a long trench coat with a big top hat and handlebar mustache. Rarity and I looked at each other before she winked at me. I smiled, turning my attention to the nervous young patron. "What can I get for you... sir?"

He cleared his throat in an attempt to deepen his voice. "Yes, I would like one alcohol, please," he said confidently. I took another knowing glance at Rarity before turning back to him.

"Of course. If ya don't mind, just how old are you?" I asked, immediately putting a damper on his confidence.

"Why, the appropriate age for an adult like myself to consume alcohol, of course!"

Okay, right now I had two options: throw him out of my bar for trying to drink underage without even so much as a convincing disguise in front of his crush, or, serve him a sparkling non-alcoholic cider and see where this takes us. Rarity appeared to be trying hard to hold back her giggles as my mustachioed patron turned towards her. I had recognized Spike's face from around town, but I knew there was no way he was tall enough to wear a floor-length trench coat without an impressive set of stilts.

In fact, if I hadn't heard fillies' voices coming from inside his clothes, I'd have thought he was some kind of stilt-walker. Looks like these kids went for the old 'sit on each other's shoulders to pretend to be an adult' gag. How original.

"Do you come here often, Mister..." Rarity began, intent on playing along for the time being.

"Uh... Bar... Stool?" he answered nervously. C'mon, kid, you didn't even think up a fake name? What's wrong with kids today?

Rarity held back a giggle before continuing. "Well... Bar, it's nice to meet you, my name is Rarity."

"The pleasure is mine, Rarity."

I had to give the little guy credit. He had clearly put some thought into this, though I'm not sure how he convinced whoever is in that musty old trench coat to play along.

They'd sparked quite the conversation before I heard the inside or Mr. Bar's trench coat begin to speak.

"Spike! Hurry up! Sweetie Belle keeps farting in the coat, and I don't know how much more I can take!"

"I did not! It was probably you, Scootaloo! Or should I say, Tootaloo?"

"Both of y'all hush so Spike can talk ta Rarity! B'sides, it was me."

The word 'gross!' sounded from the coat as an orange filly with a purple mane and a white filly with a two tone purple-ish mane stuck their heads out of the jacket, much to Spike's horror.

"Uh... hi," the orange one smiled sheepishly.

Equestrian law says nopony under eighteen can legally be in a bar after eight, so I had to show them the door. Rarity told them to wait outside, while she settled up. I assumed a scolding was in order, but Ms. Rarity actually surprised me.

"I guess somepony is in for a lecture?"

She smiled, sliding me her bits and shaking her head.

"No... I'm almost certain Sweetie Belle and her friends more than likely roped Spike into this, not the other way around," she said in a much better mood than earlier. Foals'll do that to ya. "But, Spike has been by my side since he moved here, and I must admit he has a certain charm. Perhaps I'll have eyes for him once he's a bit older..."

"He can only hope," I replied, wiping a glass with my cleaning cloth.

"Thanks for being so understanding with Spike and the others, I'm sure you could have had them thrown out the moment they walked in."

I chuckled a bit. There's no law against having fun at work, right? "It was no trouble at all. Sometimes all it takes is a free non-alcoholic cider to make a baby dragon feel like a grown one."

"It certainly seems that way." She smiled at me. She was far more beautiful when she smiled than when she pouted, that much was certain. "Thanks for the drinks Frosty. I've got some fillies and a dragon that need a stern talking to."

"Of course," I said.

"Perhaps you and I can get a drink when you aren't working." And just like that, she was out the door. Only then did I notice she left her phone number on the bill. I slid that into my tip jar for later.

The next Element to come in had actually been a regular here for a year or two, but not for the reason you might think. She never drank a drop of alcohol in all the time I've known her, and I'd have never guessed she was the Element of Kindness if she hadn't mentioned it. She went by Flutters when she was performing, and always made sure to conceal her identity.

A sweet timid mare by day, Fluttershy's alter ego wowed the crowds one night a week at the Horn & Wings tavern.

Fluttershy

Thursday night was my least favorite night of the week. Mainly because we changed our layout a bit. Sure, I suppose fancy coffee drinks and... ugh, beatniks attract the younger crowd, but I just couldn't see what was so appealing about berets and black turtleneck sweaters.

But, bits are bits, right? I can tolerate the crowd, but usually I hire another bartender to attend to them. I'm a patient pony, but I've had to keep myself from giving these snobby bastards the old 'heave ho' out into the street a time or two. This whole 'poetry slam night' thing was my daughter's idea, but she wasn't the one who had to deal with them. I guess technically they drank more coffee than liquor, which was fine by me; I'd charge the same for either.

We even lowered our age requirement to sixteen, though we had to mark the underage with a marker. Still, the extra cost of a few more employees was more than worth what the bar made. Ironically, the underage kids are where we make the most money. They think drinking coffee makes them look cool or something. All that allowance and nowhere to spend it. Might as well be here, right?

Anyway, this isn't about hipsters, this is about Shy. Did I call her Flutters earlier? Ah, my mind must be going. Not that you probably couldn't figure out who I was talking about anyway. In hindsight, I realize how obvious it was that Shy was actually Fluttershy, Element of Kindness. So shut your trap about it. However, the night I discovered her true identity, was also the night we almost got robbed.

That's right, robbed. Ponyville's a nice place, but everywhere has its share of scumbags. How about we take this one from the top.

I had just opened up the place, and it was already filled with the youth crowd. Like I said before, money is money, and most of the kids were well-behaved. However, I knew they weren't here just to drink fancy coffee and smoke. They were here for Shy, my sub bartender and part time performer. What was it she performed? We'll get to that.

The first mare to arrive was Octavia. She played her giant... thing in an orchestra or something, but here she strummed it while Shy did her thing. Though she was always quiet, when she got on that stage she was a wordsmith the likes of which I've never heard. She wore a black veil and a sinfully tight red dress. Her mane was always hidden beneath her veil, and nopony (myself included) had ever seen her face.

As Octavia set up her instrument on the makeshift stage, the crowd began to get a bit restless. Just then, Shy appeared in the doorway. The crowd stamped their hooves in approval as she smiled. I could tell she loved the attention. Elegant as ever, she strode through the crowd towards the stage, mares and stallions alike parting to let her through. She took the stage, taking a seat on the stool as her bongo drummer set up beside Octavia.

"Thank you all for coming to see me," she said, her pearls shining in the spotlight as she cleared her throat. "I wrote this after a friend of mine found herself laid up in the hospital after a wing injury."

Now, before she began, she had a weird habit I never quite understood. She'd produce a cigarette and rest it between her lips. Octavia would light it for her, and she'd take the tiniest drag. Heck, I'm not even sure she inhaled at all. She would pass it to her bassist and the bongo drummer before setting it on the ashtray next to her where it would remain for the duration of her performance. Before you get the wrong idea, it was just tobacco. I know the difference between the smell of a cigarette and a jazz cigarette. I went to college too, ya know.

Maybe it was just for atmosphere. The way the smoke curled around her as she spoke in front of the spotlight just set the mood, I suppose.

Shy looked to her backup and they began a steady beat. After a few cheers and whistles of approval, the crowd died down and she began. This was arguably her best yet, and I hate beat poetry.

"Ticking away, the moments that make up the dull day,"

"Fritter and waste, the hours in an offhoof way,"

"Kicking around, on a piece of ground, in your home town,"

"Waiting for someone or something to show you the way,"

Like I said, wordsmith. Her set went on for a few more minutes, but I generally lost interest after the first few lines. Most of it was poetic metaphors and such. All of it lost on a simple bartender like myself.

After she'd perform, the stage was open to anypony who wanted to give it a try. It usually lasted for an hour or two before it devolved into Octavia just practicing on stage. Thankfully, she was a virtuoso. Anyway, Shy took her praise well, just her toothy smile showing beneath her veil. To this day I have no idea how she could see out of that thing. Anyway, after she had her time in the spotlight she'd come behind the bar and start serving.

She's never once asked for money, even after I insisted she take it! Some mares just want to watch the world drink, I guess. Shy knew her stuff, too. Coffee or liquor—or both–she could mix anything. And she did it with style. Flipping the bottles all over the place, it was a good thing I trusted her! Luckily, she never dropped a bottle. So, back to the story.

"Good job as usual, Shy," I said. The smile never left her face.

"Yeah, I thought that one would go over pretty well when I wrote it," she replied confidently. The colts and stallions all lined up at the bar just to buy a drink from her. I'd just stand at the end of the bar and listen. They all tried to pick her up. Sometimes she'd flirt back, sometimes she'd shut them down completely. She was a heartbreaker if I ever saw one. She was busy making drinks when I noticed another non-regular shuffle in.

Normally, I welcome a newcomer like I would a regular, but something was different about this guy. He seemed... nervous. And not the jittery 'too-much-coffee' nervous, either. I just didn't have a good feeling about him. But, I see weirdos and odd looking ponies come in here all the time, so I wasn't really planning on paying him much attention. He got in line for the bar and I forgot about him for a while.

I walked behind the bar to check Shy's inventory. She was running low on espresso mix and peach schnapps. I walked back to the liquor room about the time Mr. Creepy made it to the front of the line. While I was back there, I heard a commotion. I poked my head out of the storeroom to see my patrons backing away from that guy. He had a rather large knife, and was swinging it wildly at anypony too close. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was after once he produced his burlap sack with a bit sign printed on it. I wish I was kidding about that. Sometimes, it's like I live in a cartoon or something. The only phone in the place was behind the bar, and Shy was doing a great job of trying to keep him calm.

I kept a shotgun beneath the bar, but there was no way she could have known that—not that I'd expect her to blast somepony anyway. He was getting more agitated as she tried and failed to open the register. Now, every cop in Equestria will tell you that when dealing with a crazy pony, just give them whatever it is they want and let them track him down. Most cops in Equestria didn't count on liquor sales to keep a roof over their head, however, so I wasn't about to let this twat walk out of my bar with my money.

I picked up a loose section of pipe and began to make my way towards the bar as the other patrons just watched quietly. She was loading the money into his bag too slowly for his liking, so he grabbed the bag pretty violently from her. I could tell she was terrified, and the jostle knocked her veil loose, letting her long pink mane fall over her face.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. That was one of those mares I'd seen in the paper! The Element of Kindness, as I recalled. The odd thing was, as soon as she made eye contact with him, he seemed to just... freeze up. I mean, she was a beautiful mare, but not pretty enough to stop all brain function. She just glared at him as I rushed up behind him and brained him with my pipe.

All of those hipsters and beatniks cheered, which was odd considering all the hippy ideas about peace and love they spout off while they're in here.

"You okay, sweetheart?" I asked. She still looked a bit shaken up.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay."

"Hey! That's Fluttershy!" a voice from behind me called out. They cheered for her, but she was obviously mortified. I got Rocko to tie up our burglar friend while a waitress called the cops. I took her back into the storeroom to get her out of the crowd while we waited on the police. She was still pretty rattled, not that I could blame her. Getting nearly robbed and threatened with a knife can be pretty scary, no matter who you are. I got her a hot chocolate and sat with her.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" I asked.

"No..." she whimpered. This was not like Shy at all. It was like she was a different pony once that veil fell off.

"Good. Can't say the same for him, huh?" I joked. She didn't see the humor. I thought Shy would have loved that one! But I had to remember this wasn't Shy. Anymore, anyway. "You handled yourself well."

"T-thanks..." she whispered, taking a sip of her drink. She seemed content to sip her drink and stare right through me. Luckily, the cops came quickly and needed a statement from the two of us. Needless to say, we shut down early that night.

After they'd taken our statements and took away the semi conscious crook, most of the patrons and the rest of my staff headed home, leaving just me and Fluttershy sitting outside. She still seemed shaken. Although she didn't talk in the storeroom, I figured I'd give it one more shot before locking up and heading home.

"You sure you're okay?"

A flick of her ear in my direction was the only response I received for a time.

"I... I guess. Do you think he'll be okay?" she asked, referring to the would-be burglar. That's the Element of Kindness all right.

"A few days in the hospital and a few more in the clink, I'm sure he'll learn his lesson." I replied. "How about you?"

"I'll be fine... except I'll never be able to perform here again," she sighed. I was a bit surprised, seeing as how the crowd loved her every night she performed. That, and the fact that without her there'd be considerably fewer patrons. However, she had done this for free, so I really had no choice but to accept her decision. Though I couldn't help but ask why.

"So, now that a few kids know who you are, you're going to quit?"

"It's... a bit more complicated than that."

Even outside the bar I had a duty to lend an ear. If she would have it, that is. Even though I had known Shy for a while, I had no experience with 'Fluttershy.'

"Why's that?"

It took a few seconds of careful reflection, but she eventually opened up. "I'm not very good in front of crowds..."

"You could've fooled me!" I said trying to lighten the mood. A small smile was all I got. "I suppose that was what the veil was for, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a sip of her drink, still looking stunning in her dress and pearls. I produced my traditional post-work cigar and struck a match on my hoof.

"You don't mind, do you?" Always better to be courteous, especially to somepony who'd been driving my sales on an otherwise lackluster day of the week.

She shook her head. Luckily, the wind kept the smoke from offending too much. "So, if you're nervous on stage, why perform in the first place?"

She thought for a moment, before turning to face me. She had eyes anypony could get lost in. Now that I'd gotten a good look at her face, I'd recognized her from a few magazines. I believe she was a supermodel for a time. Honestly, it was quite a shock! Up until then, she'd been the most famous pony to ever set hoof in my bar.

"It was a way too..." She exhaled sharply before continuing, "to just say what I wanted to, without fear of offending anypony or having somepony disagree with me or not like what I said, because Shy was saying it, not Fluttershy."

I nodded, drawing on my cigar in thought. "I can see that, but it seemed like everypony who ever heard you loved your work. So why not be Fluttershy?"

Her answer was not quite what I was expecting. "Because everypony already likes Fluttershy. I wanted ponies to be honest with me about something I would normally be too scared to do."

"Well I'd say they were pretty honest. That kind of crowd is usually pretty vocal about things they don't like."

Finally, she managed a genuine smile. "I guess you're right."

"You need me to call you a cab?" I asked. It was cold enough to see our breath, and would probably only get colder.

"No, I live on the edge of town," she said, standing from the curb we'd been sitting on.

"I guess Shy won't be making any more appearances on Thursday nights?"

She turned to me, "No, I think she's run her course."

I nodded. Yeah, the extra money was nice, but setting up that stage and getting all those fancy coffee machines out every week was getting pretty old.

"I did enjoy the hot chocolate, though," she said over her shoulder as she began down the street.

"Good to know."

In a moment, she had been swallowed by the night. Shy never returned, and 'beat night' as it was known slowly declined until I just stopped doing it all together. I got rid of all those damned espresso machines, but I kept the one that made hot chocolate. I don't even like it that much. Maybe an old goat like me was just holding out hope that Fluttershy would return. I still have it, and a few folks still order it on a harsh winter's night before making the journey back to their home.

Anyway, the next night would be one of my more profitable evenings. That night, however, a protege of the Princess found herself alone at my bar on a Friday night.

Twilight Sparkle

Ah, my favorite night of the week! Friday night, and our 'two bit' drink special! It really brings in the crowd, and there's nothing like a busy night to make the time fly by. The night started out strong, nearly every seat had a tail in it. I had maybe three open seats at the bar, and they'd be gone soon enough. I was wiping my favorite bar glass when another newcomer strolled in.

A purple unicorn that I recognized from the newspaper. This one was supposedly the student of the princess herself! Though what a scholarly type like her would need with a bar like mine was beyond me. There was one seat left at the bar when she came in. As soon as she walked through the door, she looked a bit lost. She wandered towards the last seat and clambered up, after I waved her over.

"Welcome to the Horn and Wings, Miss Sparkle."

She returned my smile. "Thanks I, wait, how'd you know my name?" Looked like somepony didn't realize how famous saving the kingdom made them!

"Being the personal student of Princess Celestia gives you a bit of notoriety." I was already wiping my usual glass with my cleaning cloth. Idle hooves are Discord's playthings, or however that saying goes. "So, what can I get you?"

She laughed. "Oh no, I won't be consuming any ethanol, thank you." She nearly had an air of superiority about her when she said it, which led me to question what she was doing in a bar in the first place.

"Then what brings you here? I mean, there isn't much to do here besides drink."

Her expression soured a bit. Many ponies don't generally head to a bar just to... hang out. "My assistant locked me out of my house." I found that a bit odd. Locksmiths didn't really get a lot of service from unicorns, mainly because a simple spell could unlock a door if they forgot their keys in their house. Of course, magic locks could resist such spells, but I digress.

"So, why not just use some good old fashioned magic?" I asked. I've forgot my keys in my house after locking the door on more than one occasion.

"He insisted I get out of the house. He said I spent too much time at home, and not enough out... socializing." She finished her sentence as though she thought the last word was poisoned. "The only reason I'm here is because... he has a point. It's been weeks since I've had a weekend away from the library."

Another shy type. Well, if her pal Fluttershy could work up the stones to hang out here, there's no reason the leader of the Elements of Harmony couldn't too.

"Tell you what, your first drink is on me." That seemed to brighten her mood a bit. I have to admit, she had a pretty cute smile. She reminded me of my daughter. She was still studying at Canterlot University, and I could certainly relate to Twilight's assistant wanting her to get out of the house. I try to tell my daughter that when she calls. I mean, I couldn't care less whether or not my little girl meets a nice pony. If she's happy by herself, then that's what I want for her. My wife, however, isn't as subtle. She wants grandfoals, and has left no doubts about it.

"I'll have a Dr. Salt, please."

"Comin' up." I went below the bar to get a soda out of the fridge. Usually these accompanied rum, but there was no law saying you had to drink alcohol at a bar. I'd be a lot wealthier if there was. Anyway, I poured her soda and she seemed content to sip on it. I knew her type; I almost expected her to begin taking notes on my patrons!

"Anything else I can get for you?" I asked.

She seemed hesitant. I'd noticed her glancing around the bar at the different ponies talking, carrying on, and generally having a good time. This was a pub, after all. She almost looked... confused by it.

"Everypony seems to be having a great time," she commented. "Did all these ponies come in together?"

I guess she really didn't get out much. "Well, some did. Some are here like clockwork every Friday," I replied. "Some just come here to loosen up and maybe meet a few new faces."

She raised her eyebrows before focusing on the fizzy drink in her glass. "That's kind of what I came to do, but it's a lot easier for me to be social when my friends are with me," she lamented, taking another swig of her Dr. Salt.

Okay, I know booze isn't some cure-all for social anxiety disorders, but let's just say that I think I know when a nip or two of the good stuff could stand to do a pony some good. A quality bartender stays comfortable, but not familiar. You could come to the same bar a thousand times and see the same bartender and never feel any closer to him or her by closing time. That 'close aloofness' as I call it, was key to maintaining my customer base and generally kept me from getting too involved. Just the way I liked it.

This mare, however, reminded me so much of my daughter that I just hated seeing her looking so down on herself. With that in mind, I put on my salespony hat. "Well, they have been benefiting from a bit of social lubricant, you know."

She raised an eyebrow. "L-lubricant?"

"Alcohol, dear." No need for her to get the wrong idea.

"Oh!" She blushed. Better see if she'd like a cider. After all, nearly everypony in town has had cider at least once.

"How about a nice mug of cider?" I offered. "Not too much alcohol in that, I promise."

"Well, I have had cider before... I suppose one glass wouldn't hurt." Another satisfied customer! Or, so I'd hoped. I floated a cold mug out of the fridge and filled it at the tap. A perfect pour, if I do say so myself. When you've been doing this for as long as I have, anything less is unacceptable.

I slid it across the bar and she took it in her magic. After a few shallow sips, I noticed her shoulders ease back as she relaxed in her chair. This mare was mighty tense; no wonder her assistant made her take some time for herself.

"How is it?" I asked.

"Good, thanks." She smiled. I'd been neglecting my other patrons for a bit too long, a fact Vinyl was quick to remind me of. I've never seen a mare drink so many vodka and Red Ponies before or since. Must be a DJ thing.

Anyway, by the time I got back to Twilight's end of the bar, she'd made short work of the cider. Not that I could blame her. It was the easiest thing to drink we had behind the bar. A foal could probably manage one without feeling ill.

"So, ready for another?" I asked. I could tell she'd finally loosened up a bit, but I wasn't exactly prepared for her next request.

"Yes. What do you have in an aged scotch?" Well, I was prepared, just not expecting it. From cider to scotch? Quite the transition, but who was I to question the will of those who fund my bar?

"Sure thing, miss. We've got twelve, sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one, and twenty-five."

"I'll start with your twelve." She slid the empty soda and cider glass towards me.

"Cider to scotch: that's quite a leap," I commented, retrieving the Marecallan single malt from the middle shelf.

"I studied up on the process of scotch making and found it very interesting," she explained. I slid her a small portion in a glass.

She took a sip and hissed, as though she'd just bit into a hot pepper. All the studying in the world can't compare to actually tasting a well-aged scotch. "Just as I'd read," she said once she had regained her breath. "Oaky, but with a smooth finish after the initial bite of ethanol."

"Uh... sure. So a glass of that, then?"

"Please." I retrieved the rocks from the fridge and set them in her glass. When I say rocks, I don't mean ice cubes, I mean actual rocks. Ice eventually turns into water, which spoils the flavor of the scotch. Cold (clean) rocks, however, keep the drink at a nice temperature while maintaining the integrity of the flavors. If there's one liquor I know about, it's scotch.

I poured her a glass and resumed wiping my cleaning glass as she took another sip. She'd better be careful or she'd find herself on the floor. "So, about why you came in the first place..."

"Oh, yes." She sighed. "Would you believe I was sent here from Canterlot to make friends?"

Now was not the time for honesty. "I would have never guessed."

She chuckled, a bit of redness beginning to hang around her cheeks. "Well, it's true. I made five close ones then stopped."

"C'mon, you're telling me a mare like yourself only knows five ponies in this whole town?" The pony next to her stood from his seat, freeing it up as a magenta mare I knew as the town school teacher walked in. She was a semi-regular. She usually only showed up after a particularly stressful parent-teacher conference, or after having graded twenty-six essays on the same topic. Earth pony and pegasus writing can be somewhat difficult to read since they have to write with their mouths and all. You'd think somepony would have invented an easier way by now.

"Well, I have acquaintances, but nopony I'd really call a close friend except the other Elements of Harmony." Cheerilee took the seat next to Twilight before realizing who she was next to.

"Twilight! I never figured you to be the type to be socia—I mean, at a bar!" That was quite the save, Ms. Cheerilee.

A smile crossed Twilight's face for the first time since she'd come in. Looks like she knew more ponies than she was letting on. "Well, Spike kind of locked me out of the library unless I went out and had fun, so, here I am," she joked as Cheerilee set a few bits in my direction.

"A grey duck martini, please. Extra dry."

"Extra dry, eh?" I said. I'll bet she'd just gotten done with a particularly stressful day at the schoolhouse. "What's the occasion?"

"A conference with Diamond Tiara's parents. They just can't accept that their daughter is a bully," she moaned as Twilight took another sip of her scotch.

"I've been told about her," Twilight remarked as I mixed Cheerilee's drink in the tumbler. "I had a bully like that once. I hope she broke her leg." I couldn't help but grin. Alcohol lowers one's inhibitions, and it seemed like Ms. Twilight's were now firmly in a downward spiral.

"Ugh, I know. It's never the foal's fault anymore, is it?" Cheerilee lamented as I slid her her drink. "Thanks, Frosty. It's been a long one."

"That's what I'm here for. I'll be right back, enjoy your drinks, ladies." I did have other customers, after all. I slid down to the other end of the bar to check on the stallions playing darts and to refill Vinyl's sixth vodka cranberry. Call it a hunch, but she always seemed to hang around the cello player that used to play at our coffee nights. I think somepony was too cool to admit her crush, but I could be wrong.

By the time I'd circled back around to Twilight and Cheerilee, they were making quite the raucous. The timid, nervous mare that had come in and ordered soda was now laughing boisterously with the town teacher at some of her students' goofs. Perhaps not particularly becoming of a shaper of young minds, but ponies have to blow off steam somewhere—might as well be a place where your students won't overhear you, right?

Besides, everypony likes to talk about other ponies behind their backs. It's pony nature.

"Frosty! Another scotch please!" Twilight called. She was getting a little drunk now, but I supposed one more couldn't hurt her. She wasn't falling all over herself, and her eyes were still in focus. I poured her another Marecallans and replaced her rocks as Cheerilee ordered another martini. It was another good night to be a bartender. For all the problems that may or may not be caused by alcohol, seeing ponies happy and having fun was half the reason I got into this business.

"So then I said, wyrm, I barely know him!" I must have walked in on the last part of that joke, but Twilight thought it was hilarious. She followed up with a joke about sub-atomic particles that had Cheerilee in stitches. I must not have been smart enough to get them. As the night wore on, the bar began to empty. Even though last call was at two-thirty, we rarely stayed open past one. Ponyville is a small town, and most ponies don't like to stay out too late. Either that, or they get their drinking in early.

Soon enough, Twilight and Cheerilee were the only ones sitting at the bar as I chatted with them. Cheerilee was buzzed, but Twilight was smashed. Looked like I'd be calling a cab tonight.

"I... did I ever tell you guys... how I..." She paused to let out a particularly large hiccup. Honestly, it was kind of cute. "I beat Discord? Because I so did. I sealed that... that bastard back in stone so hard. Well... we did, but if it wasn't for me, we'd all be drinking chocolate milk from the sky right now!" Twilight slumped back in her chair. "Then the Princess let him out again..."

Cheerilee and I smiled at each other. It looked like it was about past Twilight's bedtime. "I seem to recall reading something about that in the Ponyville Gazette," I replied

"You bet your flank you did!" she giggled.

"You know what I think?" Cheerilee asked as Twilight threw back the rest of her scotch, inhaling sharply as she did.

"What?"

"I think you're drunk."

Twilight scoffed. Only when you're drunk do you not think you're drunk. "I'm not drunk, you're drunk!"

"Sorry, Twilight, I think she's right," I added. All the chairs were up on the tables, and the waitresses were mopping the floors. It was time to send these lovely mares back to their beds.

"Hey, you... you don't know me! I once knew a guy... you look like him..." With that, she rested her head gently on the bar and attempted to sleep. Honestly, that's not the first time that's happened.

Cheerilee paid Twilight's tab and nudged her awake. "Twilight, you can't sleep at the bar."

She grunted awake, rubbing her eyes with a hoof. "Right... I knew that, I was just resting my eyes," she claimed. "I'll just teleport myself back to the library. Oh, I'll make Spike make me something to eat! I'm... I'm so hungry..."

"Easy there, miss. You don't want to get a CUI (That's casting under the influence for all you non-unicorns)." Twilight sighed.

"You're right. I guess... I guess I can walk home..." I glanced knowingly at Cheerilee, who nodded to me in return.

"How about I walk you home. We can stop at a hay stand on the way so you won't have to wake up Spike."

Twilight gasped. "You... you'd do that? Cheerilee... I think I love you." We all shared a laugh. Booze can certainly send you from one extreme emotion to the next fairly quickly. Thankfully, we don't get many angry drunks in here.

"Well, you two ladies have a good night," I said, preparing to count the money in the register for the evening.

"Oh... before I go..." Twilight stammered, looking back towards me, the infamous 'I'm drunk' blush most ponies get thick on their face. "You were right! I had fun tonight!"

Ah, words like that—sober or otherwise—made this job worth it. "I'm glad, dear. Now get some food and then get to sleep. Something tells me you may not be so quick to sing my praises tomorrow morning."

She laughed. "You haven't seen the last of me!" With that, Cheerilee helped Twilight out of the bar. I locked the door behind them and let the rest of the staff out the back before calling it a night. A good Friday, as usual.

So, now I've only got one more Element of Harmony to mention, and oddly enough, I actually knew she had something to do with them—I just wasn't sure what.

Pinks was many things: a pool shark, a dart hustler, and above all else, one of my best customers.

Pinks

Pinks hasn't paid for a drink in as long as I can remember. Not that I'm giving her free drinks, mind you, but, in a word, she hustles. And boy, is she good at it. She'd come in, mane tied back, bandana around her head, ready to draw in some poor sap who thought he shot a good game of pool or could throw a dart.

She'd throw the first game; charm the guy (usually a guy, but she would work either gender) and get him to bet big—or just bet a drink. Pinks never lost a game unless it was on purpose. She was just too good. And she didn't even have fingers! She whipped griffons, zebra, unicorns, pegasi, you name it!

Anyway, tonight was like any other Saturday. The bar was filling up, and Pinks had just walked in. I greeted her in a manner to which she was accustomed.

"You planning on buying a drink tonight, ya filthy earth pony?"

"Not from the likes of you, meanie-pants!"

We both shared a good laugh. It varied from time to time, but our greetings were more or less the same. "Not many newcomers in the bar tonight. You may have trouble getting your drinks."

She hopped on a stool and kept an eye on the pool table and the dartboard. "Don't worry, Frosty, everypony likes to play games! You just have to wait until they're ready." Just as quickly as she'd sat down, she trotted toward the pool table and grabbed a cue. She put her bits in the table and proceeded to miss shots and generally suck at pool until a stallion from out of town offered to teach her the game.

Right into her trap. She told him she wasn't very good, but she'd love to play him if he put a drink on the line. He was more than willing to make time with her for the price of two drinks. I served him up two beers and resisted the urge to shake my head. Sometimes, it was fun watching Pinks work.

I'm sure she could probably get the jacket off this guy's back if she wanted to, but he—along with the rest of town—was lucky she only used her power to get drinks, and not, say, the deed to his house. In six games, she had humiliated this poor sap. Unfortunately, he didn't take to losing too kindly. After Pinks decided to enjoy her drinks and have a seat at my bar, he went back to his group of friends for a thorough harassing. Apparently, his ego wasn't used to being so aptly bruised.

I could see him stealing more and more angry glances in Pinks' direction. She was completely oblivious, but I knew trouble brewing when I saw it. After about an hour, he marched up behind her and tapped her shoulder.

"Oh, I remember you!" she said cheerfully, looking over her shoulder. "Come to buy me more drinks?" I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or serious. That's Pinks for ya.

"Hardly," he grunted. "I want my money back. Nopony hustles Eight Ball."

"That's too bad. You already spent it, silly!"

That was not the response he was looking for. His pals had gathered behind him—I assume to intimidate her—but there wasn't an ounce of fear across those pink cheeks. Just her usual smile.

"You said you didn't know how to play pool." He was getting upset now. Nopony likes to be made to look like a sucker in front of their friends. "And you still beat me."

She smiled, finishing her beer. "Beginners luck?"

"For six games?" he snapped. Things were getting tense now. He turned her around on the barstool, and that's when I reached for something to diffuse the situation. "You're gonna give me that money, or we're gonna have a problem."

Click Clack

"There better not be any problems from the likes of you in this bar, friend." I produced the shotgun I keep beneath the bar and aimed it over Pinks' shoulder. It was filled with rock salt. Not a lethal round, but nasty enough to ruin a night, let me tell you.

Had he been wearing any pants, I'd bet he'd have filled them. The entire bar was silent as the standoff continued. I'd never allowed fighting or any of that juvenile nonsense in my bar before, and I wasn't about to start now. I couldn't let these jerks rough up one of my regulars. "Now, we're all reasonable ponies here. I'm sure there's some way—besides me filling your chest with shot—that you and my friend Pinks here can settle this."

He shifted, adjusting his jacket. His friends had already taken a few steps back. "You're right. There is." He turned to his friends and they began whispering to each other. I lowered the shotgun and set it back in its hiding place. "We'll drink you for it."

Pinks raised an eyebrow, but I knew exactly what this guy had in mind. "Drink... me?"

"He means a drinking contest, Pinks," I whispered to her. She brightened up instantly.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" she chimed.

"You got some friends for your team?" he asked.

"Do I ever! Elements of Harmony drinking squad, assemble!" I looked around, expecting the ponies she'd called for to come bursting through the wall or something.

"Uh, Pinks, you may want to just—"

"Shh! Give 'em time," she insisted. Sure as I'm a booze vendor, Applejack came running through the doors with... damn, what was her name... uh... Rainbow Dash!

"Ah... thought... Ah... heard... drinkin'... contest..." Applejack panted.

"You heard right! We've gotta drink these sore losers under the table!" Pinks chimed as the purple unicorn from last night casually strode in.

"Pinkie? Are you in here?" The girl from last night strode in shortly after. She'd made quite the recovery, though I'd bet she knows some great hangover curing spells being the princesses assistant and all. Anyway, after her came Shy and the lovely Ms. Rarity. Before I knew it, I had two drinking teams ready to face off.

Now, this may seem like an odd occurrence, but I'm actually pretty well prepared for this kind of thing. I have a rulebook and everything. I grabbed the dusty old book from beneath the bar and retrieved the Bell of Dionysus—a fog bell from an old boat I used to own.

I rang it once. "A challenge has been issued by, uh... Eight Ball, was it? To you, Pinks and her drinking team, the wager being the bar tab and the cost of the alcohol used during the games." I turned to Pinks and her band of sisters. "Do you accept?"

"You bet your flank we do!" Pinks replied, her expression falling as she quickly conferred with her friends. "Right?"

"Well, I hardly think a drinking contest is any place for a lady—"

"Ha, I knew your squad didn't have the guts!" one of their opponents taunted.

Apparently, nopony interrupts Rarity.

"But if it puts ruffians like you in their place, then I have no problems drinking them under the table!"

"Yay, Rarity!" Pinks cheered.

"Uh, guys, we've got one small problem," Rainbow piped up from the back of the group. Fluttershy was studying her hooves pretty intently, and I could guess why.

"I-I'm sorry girls, I don't think I'd be very good at this kind of contest."

"Ha, or any contest!" one of the leather jacket clad troublemakers jeered.

Eight Ball stepped toward Pinks. "So now you're one pony short. Looks like you're gonna have to forfeit!"

I'd have agreed with the jerk, if it hadn't been for Applejack chuckling softly in the background. "Actually, no, we won't."

"Well, we aren't dropping a member, so either find a sixth, or get ready to pay up," he growled.

All eyes were on Applejack as she adjusted her hat. "I think we'll be just fine." She turned toward the back of the bar and called into the dim light of the far back booths. "Mac!"

A screech of metal on tile echoed through the bar as a stallion I recognized as one of my regulars appeared from the shadows. One of my rather quiet regulars. A large red stallion about the size of my bouncer slowly trotted towards the group. Every eye in the bar focused on him as he discarded the sprig of wheat hanging loosely from his lips.

"Ah understand y'all need a sixth."

"Well, I don't drink, so... um... if you wouldn't mind taking my place, I'm sure I could cheer you on," Fluttershy mumbled.

"Don't you worry none, darlin'," he said with a nod. Mac turned to face his opponents as he stood among his new drinking team. "If y'all are done flappin' your lips, we got some drinkin' games ta win."

"Now then, the first rule, not a drop can be spilled. Any loss of alcohol, either by vomiting, spillage or some other form of alcohol abuse incurs instant disqualification," I read from the rulebook. "There are five events, and at the conclusion of the final event, the team with the most events won is the champion."

"Fine, what's the first event?" Eight Ball asked. I donned my ceremonial, giant, purple referee top hat and explained the rules.

I flipped farther into the book until I came to the event list involving tab disputes. "The first challenge goes by many names, but by far the most widely known is... beer pong." The rest of the bar cheered as the wait staff set up the table and the ping pong balls were gathered. "Choose your best two players!"

After setting up the game, Twilight and Applejack stood opposite a griffon and the guy Pinks hustled. "The rules are simple: No part of the hand or hoof may cross the table during the throw. If you sink, they drink. If you bounce one in, they must drink two cups, but they are able to swat the ball away if you choose this method." They nodded. It's not really a hard game to understand. Throw the ball into your opponents cup. First one out of cups loses. "Everyone clear on the rules?" They nodded. The ringing of my old bell echoed through the bar. "Let the games begin!"

The ladies were allowed first shot. Twilight lined up her throw. She had to have been doing calculations or something in her head. After what seemed like an eternity, she launched the ball out of her magic and straight into the first cup! Nothing but beer! She lit up like a bottle rocket.

"Applejack! Did you see that?" she gasped. I figured she wasn't one for competitive games, but it still feels good to score a point. "I did it! I made it in the cup!" She flung her forelegs around Applejack who quickly joined her.

"Great job, Twi!" she replied as the other team drank their cup.

"Yeah, yeah, take your other shot already," the griffon ('Brawndo', if the back of his jacket was telling the truth) snapped.

"Hold yer horses, we'll give ya your whippin' soon enough." Applejack took the ball between her teeth and tried to figure out how she was going to get it from 'A' to 'B'. With an awkward flick of her neck, the ball made it about halfway across the table. After some jeers from the other side of the table, Applejack looked shaken, but not beaten.

Brawndo and his buddy whispered to each other before turning back to the table to take their shots. Unexpectedly, they took their shots at the same time! Catching Twilight and Applejack off guard, they managed to bounce one into a cup, meaning both Twilight and Applejack had to drink, costing them their lead.

"Hey, that's not fair! They went at the same time!" Twilight complained. My hooves were tied.

"There's no rule saying you can't," I answered. "I have to allow it."

The grimace on Twilight's face as she was forced to drink an ever-warming beer was priceless, I gotta admit. Applejack ended up sinking the remaining cups after opting to use her tail to throw the ball instead of her mouth. Twilight seemed pretty content just making one.

"Alright, so you won one event, big deal!" Eight Ball sneered. "You won't win again."

"Next event, the long pour!" The rest of the patrons cheered, ordering even more rounds. I may have to make this an annual thing! Maybe call it... beerfestival?

Anyway, the long pour event was actually quite simple. One teammate stood on a ladder with a pitcher of beer, and attempted to pour it into the mouth of the teammate waiting beneath the ladder. The team who got the most beer in their partner and not on the floor won! Simple, huh?

This time it was Rarity and Rainbow Dash, with Rarity on the ladder. Believe me when I say Rainbow was a bit nervous about getting beer up her nose.

"Don't worry, Rainbow Dash. My magic is as steady as the gems I use to create my masterpieces." That didn't seem to help much. Unfortunately, the other team had the steadier hooves, and Rainbow ended up more than a little soaked.

"Okay, the score is one-to-one," I announced, searching the book for the next event. "The next challenge is; 'bits'!"

Bits is also a fairly simple game. Five shot glasses arranged in a cross. One player from each team must bounce the coin off the table and into the glass, where the opponent must then consume the liquor inside. This time, the big guy was chosen. Since this was the first event using hard liquor, I could understand. Mac flipped bits like birds sing in the trees! He must have had practice, because he only ended up drinking a shot he actually had to order. He shut the other guy down completely!

The next event was one of my favorites: Thumper. It involved the entire team on both sides, and the gameplay was simple. All you had to do was pound your hooves (or hands) on the table repeatedly while everypony went around the table and picked a gesture to represent them. All you had to do was perform your gesture and that of a player on the opposing team once it was your turn. However, you could not simply perform the gesture of the player who had gone before you, so it was imperative you remembered the other teams gestures, not just one or two players'.

On top of that, everypony had to keep their hooves pounding on the table throughout the entire game. Anypony caught slowing down or stopping was out. Last player standing won it for their team.

"Is everypony clear on the rules?" They nodded. "Then let Thumper begin!"

The rumbling of hooves on wooden tables drowned out any other noises in the bar. The ancient chant rumored to have been started by Princess Luna on the night of her and her sister's ascension to power began the game.

"What is the name of the game?" Pinks shouted.

"Thumper!" Nearly the entire bar yelled in response.

"And why do we play it?" she called again.

"To get bucked up!"

Unfortunately, the alcohol was beginning to wear on Pinks' team, and Eight Ball and his crew ended up winning that event, tying the contest. It was now down to the final tiebreaker event. I nodded to my waitresses, and they opened a large locked cabinet behind the bar. Behind the large wooden doors was a hammer and a glass case with twelve large glasses shaped like boots. Above the glass, a sign read: In case of tie drinking contest, break glass.

With a swing of the hammer, the boot-shaped glasses were freed, and a hush fell over the bar.

"Now, for the final, tie-breaking event... Das Boot!"

The rest of the bar erupted! Chants of 'Das Boot!' roared out into the street as even the local cops had stopped by to watch the show. This event also involved all team members. Each player was given a boot full of beer (about four pints worth). Once I signaled them to begin, the first team to finish all their beer without spilling a drop was the undisputed winner.

Each team gathered at the table opposite each other. Wisely, they'd chosen Mac as the last drinker, known as the anchor. Though Eight Ball's crew also set their largest member against him. Some match-ups were even, some skewed a bit, but I could tell this would be a close race.

"Is everypony ready?" Once again, a silent nod. "On your marks, get set... drink!"

Applejack started off strong, finishing her boot and twisting it expertly before the bubble hit at the heel. This gave Rainbow time to increase their lead, though not by much, as Eight Ball's crew caught up fast. After Rainbow Dash came Rarity. Needless to say, she didn't exactly take too well to chugging beer. Pinks' team lost their lead by the time Twilight managed to finish her beer and subsequently pass out beneath the table. Honestly, it was more than I expected of her, but she chugged that beer like a true champion! I'm assuming Princess Celestia would be proud.

It was down to Mac. He hadn't broken eye contact with his opponent the entire round, and both ponies began drinking at the same time, keeping their dead stare at each other throughout.

It was neck and neck; it was anypony's race as the beer began to vanish. In a matter of seconds, both glasses were empty, and both contestants held them upside-down to test for any drops left un-drank. They'd finished at nearly the same time, so I had no idea how I was going to call the winner, until I noticed a single drop leave the rim of Eight Ball's glass and splatter on the table. For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence.

"Pinks' team wins!"

The whole bar cheered as Eight Ball and his crew shrank from the table. Pinks turned to them after celebrating with her extremely drunk team to collect her payment. "I think you guys owe my friend Frosty some bits!"

Although I should have seen it coming, Eight Ball wasn't exactly willing to hold up his end of the wager. "You set us up!" he barked. "We aren't paying you a single bit!"

I just smiled. "Rocco?" My bouncer appeared behind him and put his massive hooves on his shoulders. "Why don't you help Mr. Eight Ball here find his wallet?"

Rocco nodded. Needless to say, I got my money, and never saw that particular group again. Once the bar had returned to relative normalcy, Pinks had a seat in front of me.

"Sorry about all the trouble, I guess I should watch who I hustle for drinks, huh?"

"Maybe... just for future reference." I smiled, wiping my favorite glass.

"Yeah, this chapter has been pretty silly, huh?" I wasn't quite sure what she was talking about, but that wouldn't be the first time.

"Uh... I guess."

She stretched her legs at the bar and rubbed her eyes. "I think it's about time for Princess Luna's episode. Happy late St. Patrick's day everypony!"

The Princess

Now, this next tale is the reason we have that plaque on the wall behind ya. The one that says 'Official Royal Dive Bar?' Yeah, that was proclaimed by royalty! So let's get started!

Sunday nights are just about the slowest nights of the week. Only your hardcore alcoholics will come in on Sunday. Most ponies don't want to drink if they have work the next morning. Then again, most ponies' words aren't law. We open a bit later than usual, and it's usually an hour or two before we get any customers anyway. We normally do food specials until three to draw in some extra folks. We have a spinach and artichoke dip that will knock your clothes off! If you're wearing them. But, I digress.

We had just opened for business when a royal guard come through the door. But not just any royal guard. A night guard. Now, ordinarily, the guards are not allowed to indulge while in uniform. This guy had an air of pure business about him, so I assumed he wasn't here for a drink.

"Can I help you... sir?"

"Captain Spear," he said, stopping himself from saluting a civilian. Must've been a reflex at this point. "I've come to secure this tavern for Princess Luna."

I could hardly believe my ears! A princess, in my bar? If I'd known, I would have helped the staff clean up!

"Uh... well, you're free to look around," I said, wondering just what I had done to deserve a visit from Princess Luna at my hole-in-the-wall bar. The guard began snooping around, testing the sturdiness of the tables, chairs, and eyeballing my staff. Once he'd made his rounds, he came back to me.

"This place has passed. Her Highness will arrive momentarily." With that, he turned quickly and strode out the door. By now, a few patrons had wandered in—mostly the lunch crowd. After a few minutes, I went back to taking inventory. As I counted the bottles, the bar door slammed open, startling everypony inside.

"Hear ye! All shall bow before the glory of the princess of the night!" one of her night guards bellowed. He then proceeded to blow a trumpet as loudly as possible before a hoof slapped it away from his mouth.

"Shield! What did we tell you about doing that?"

Princess Luna strode past her contingent of guards. She wore decidedly un-royal garb, a blue hooded sweater, sunglasses and a hat with a crescent moon on the front. Unfortunately, her disguise would only fool the blind. I bowed, as did the rest of my staff before she sighed and told us to rise.

"Everywhere we go, this happens!" she complained, sitting at the bar while her guards filed into the building, eyeing everypony with suspicion. The captain from earlier strode beside Luna.

"Your Highness, there are peasants taking up valuable space in this establishment. Shall we have them thrown in the dungeon?"

Luna's expression flattened like the month-old seltzer water I give to anyone ordering a seltzer and water in a bar. "For the final time, Sword, we do not throw ponies in the dungeon anymore! You and the other guards are to sit quietly until We have whet the royal whistle. Now go!"

Hanging his head, he returned to his table and sat quietly, munching on the mixed nuts. "The royal night guards are sometimes a royal pain."

"Well, I don't have much experience in the hardships of being guarded, but I think I might have something to take your edge off." I floated a drink menu toward her as she put her hood down and hooked her sunglasses on the neck of her sweater.

"Barkeep, why is there no mead on this parchment?"

Wow, I guess the rumors were true! It really must be tough having to rejoin society after being isolated from it for a thousand years.

"Well, no one has really ever asked for it, Your Highness."

She glanced up from the menu as if I'd just sworn at her. "No... nopony drinks mead anymore? Why, Starswirl the Bearded could put away an entire keg with dinner!" She slapped the menu down on the bar, attracting the glare of her guards. "So what is it that today's pony enjoys?"

There was no way I could walk her through every advancement in booze technology in the past millennia, so I gambled on picking something for her. "Well, the apple cider is a very popular choice around here. I believe you know the family that makes it."

"Apple cider?" she paused to consider it. It's been said everypony in the kingdom has a favorite princess. Behind closed doors, anyway. While there are a good many still kind of bitter about the whole 'eternal night' thing Princess Luna was involved in a while back, she's been steadily winning over a loyal following. I could see why. It was just hard to stay mad at a pony that seemed so... confused by modern culture. "We shall have your finest flagon."

"Comin' right up." I don't have the slightest idea what the hell a 'flagon' is, but I'm sure is similar to a mug. A perfect pour. It's crazy how good I am at that! But I guess that's expected. I slid the glass toward her, and she caught it in her magic. She examined it closely, squinting over every detail. She brought the rim to her lips and sipped gingerly, savoring the taste and practically chewing it before swallowing. Her eyes brightened, and she took one large gulp, finishing the entire mug in one swig! All sixteen ounces! To this day, I've never seen anything like it.

"Barkeep, your choice in drinks has earned you the favor of your Princess. What is your name?"

"Frosty Mug, Your Highness." I bowed again. It's kind of a habit for us rural types, I guess.

"Frosty, I will have another of your delightfully brewed apple mead."

She drank another eleven pints in the course of forty-five minutes. Not only was she still coherent, but she only showed a slight case of the giggles! I guess alicorns could handle their alcohol better than most ponies. As I continued serving Princess Luna, she eventually lightened up a bit and allowed her guards to enjoy a drink. One thing that's great about royalty frequenting a business, they'll never skip on a tab.

As her guards relaxed and she began work on her twelfth pint, she spotted the boot-shaped glasses I had to break out the night before. I hadn't had time to replace the glass panel that was smashed out to get to them. I know it makes for better dramatics to smash something, but I'm seriously considering just putting them in a cabinet or something.

"Frosty barkeep, why are those boots made of glass?"

"Oh, well, they're usually how arguments are settled in the bar. It's part of a contest—"

"A contest you say?!" She was getting excited now. I would have never pegged her for the competitive type, but when you consider history, I guess it isn't too out there. "We demand to drink our apple mead out of that glass shoe!" she shouted, gesturing toward them and clapping her hooves together.

"Well, you certainly may, Princess, but you'll need an opponent. You can't just drink from das boot without somepony to drink against."

She finished her cider and slid the mug back to me. "Very well. You will drink against me!"

"Oh no, Princess, I couldn't. I can't drink at work." She looked a little dismayed, plus there would be no way I could beat that magic chugging ability she has.

She put a hoof to her chin. "Captain Spear!" she called over her shoulder, summoning the same bat-pony that had given my bar a once-over before letting her in. "As recompense for your sins earlier in the day, you will challenge me to a drinking contest."

At first, I thought he would protest. But he didn't even flinch. I guess it's true what the legends say about the night guard. They'd rather fall on their spears than disappoint their Princess. "I will punish my liver to further your glory, Princess!" He saluted crisply as I slid the boot to him and filled Luna's.

Once they were both ready, a waitress held up both hooves. "When Marga Rita drops her hooves, the contest will begin," I explained. She began the match, and Luna took all of three seconds to down the huge volume of cider. Poor old Spear took at least ten seconds to finish his. She repeated the contest nine more times with three different guards. Only then, after she'd drank more cider than anypony I've ever seen, and killed the keg, did she appear drunk.

"Barkeep, we demand more of this substance!"

"Sorry, Your Highness, you killed the keg."

Her ears fell before she managed to find the drink menu once again. "W-what of these would you suggest for a being whose liver is just as immortal as the rest of her?" Bit of a slur on that one. Good thing she had a team to make sure she got home safely.

"Well, maybe a cosmare?"

"Make it so!" she boomed. You wouldn't think such a voice could come from a mare that... well, she wasn't small, but she sure didn't look like she could have that kind of heft in her tone.

I made her drink, and just like I suspected, she loved it. "Another wonderful choice, Frosty!" She turned to one of her sober guards and used that command voice again. "Lieutenant, fetch me a christening plaque!"

With a salute, the guard began rifling through a bag they'd brought with them, removing a gilded plaque without an inscription and set it before Luna. With a quick blast from her magic, she etched the words 'Official Royal Dive Bar' onto the metal. "I christen this bar... my favorite bar in Ponyville!" Her guards cheered as if on cue, and abruptly stopped, as though they had practiced for the occasion.

The Princess turned back to me as the guard hung the plaque on the wall. "You k-*hic*-know, We have this feeling that we've forgotten to do something..."

She had already paid her tab and tipped every staff member regardless of whether they served her or not. I couldn't think of what it could have been, until I looked outside. By my count, it had been sunset for the better part of three hours, as it was now nine in the evening.

"Uh, Princess, I think maybe Princess Celestia may be waiting on you to bring on the nighttime." The look on her face was priceless, I gotta admit.

"In the name of Epona! Captain Spear!" She was not happy. The still drunk captain staggered to his hooves and tried to salute, but ended up bopping himself on the nose.

"Y-yes, my Princess?"

"How couldst thou let me forget about my singular job?!"

It took him a few seconds, but he managed to reply. "My infinite apologies... princess..." he took a few breaths and belched impressively. "But you were having such a good time, none of us wanted to interrupt—" By this syllable, he had lunged towards a waiting trashcan, and the I think the next word was a mix of 'you' and the sound someone makes when they're puking. Thankfully, he got it all in the trashcan.

Luna sighed, removing herself from the bar and heading towards the door. The guards that were able followed, while the others were helped along. "Thank you for your hospitality, kind barkeep Frosty. It will not be forgotten the next time We are in town!" She shook out her mane, set the hood back atop her head, and put her shades back on. I could have sworn I heard the words 'Okay, Luna, just like we practiced. Time to fly sober!' before she took off, but I wouldn't want to start rumors, especially not about a princess!

Well, that was it! It's last call pal, so unfortunately I'm gonna have ta ask you ta finish that drink and be on your way. I don't care where ya go, but you can't stay here. Till next time!