A Drink Between Friends

Fin Sharp was the head detective within the Ponyville police force. In the year 2026 AC, Ponyville was the largest city in the world, home to over ten million creatures. If even 99.9% of the population were law-abiding citizens, there would still be ten thousand criminals to contend with. Needless to say, Fin was a very busy stallion.

With 131 districts all spiraling out from the center of what was once a very small village, Ponyville covered one square mile for each district of the city. Highways sat above most of the city, giving quick access to each major district’s major road, and if you didn’t happen to be in one of those districts, well, good luck getting anywhere. Congestion was not something foreseen when the initial plans for the city were drawn up, nor was the rapid and generally absurd level of expansion and migration that came with it. After all, twenty years ago, Ponyville was only home to about a thousand ponies.

Being the father of six and married to the oldest legacy Ponyville had, it was rare that Fin ever got any time to himself. Work, the orchard, the wife, the kids; only so many hours in a week, or even a month. And yet, in spite of all this, Fin had found a single night every month in which he could shove all of his responsibilities onto someone else.

On either the second or third Saturday of every month, between deadlines past and deadlines future, there was always enough time for him to attend to the family, mute his work phone, and go into town to visit his favorite bar, Tipsy Wings.

With his plans made and his attendees confirmed, Fin was headed out the door of the ancient farm house when his oldest son blocked his way. No thanks to his father, Whisky had grown up to be a very large stallion. Were it not for the white manes and orange irises they shared, it would be easier to think Whiskey was his uncle’s son. And yet, Whiskey was, without question, his mother’s son.

“Howdy, Pa,” the freckled orange giant said.

Looking up at his hairy boy, Fin ran through a few scenarios. One, I lie and say I’m going in for work. Unlikely to work on Whiskey. Two, I say we’ll talk about what we do with our wives. Likely to make him more curious, if a little put off. Three… that might work.

Fin cleared his throat. “Good evening son. I’m about to leave, so…”

“C-can Ah come with ya?” he asked, sheepishly.

Fin brought a hoof to his beard. “Do you even know where I’m going?”

The young giant swallowed. “That smokin’ bar out in District 5, right? Wing Tips or somethin’?”

“Legally speaking, Tipsy Wings is actually part of District 16.” From a lanyard around his neck, Fin picked up his phone. It was about 18:30. He either needed to scare Whiskey away somehow, or bring him along just so he wasn’t late. “Here are your conditions.”

The young stallion nodded eagerly. “Ah’m listenin’.”

“You’re the driver.”

“Oh…”

“And you cannot smoke.”

“Aw! Come on, Pa!”

Fin shook his head. “Those are the rules. Yes or no, son.”

Whiskey really wanted to go. He was the happy accident that brought Fin and Applejack together, and as of a month ago, he was finally 21. Between the bad influence of his cousin and his father, he’d taken to cigars and alcohol like a fish took to water. Apple family tradition introduced children to alcohol at a young age to scare them at first, and then let them try the good stuff once they were eighteen. They needed to be acquainted with it if only to assist with the cider-making process that helped pay for the orchard. Whiskey, however, just liked the alcohol, and finally, he didn’t have to be on the orchard to have it.

Applejack doesn’t like smoking, however, so to indulge in their habits, Fin and everyone else beholden to the head Apple finds other places to do it. The son and the father have a barn dedicated to their shared love of tobacco, and they’ve spent many hours talking over cigars there. It was their time to bond, and Whiskey would smoke with his father whenever he got the chance. Only, there was one night every month where he’d be left out.

Older than a majority of the family friends, Whiskey has always been ‘the kid at the adult’s table’ for as long as he could remember. He loved to be a part of the conversation when Fin would talk to his friends, but had never been formally invited to the ‘club.’ He knew they met up outside of gatherings, and they were all always clued in to the latest news. Always feeling like he was part of the wrong generation, he’d waited for the day he was finally old enough to legally get into a bar to hang out with them.

With his looks, not a soul would question his presence in one, but with his mother’s former days as the element of honesty and automatic lie detector, and his father’s profession being that of a lie detector, Whiskey has yet to get away with anything in his twenty-one years. To finally get the chance to go but be denied the very thing that brought him closer to his father…

Out of the corner of his eye, Whiskey saw his mother pass into the living room from upstairs. One green eye, one raised brow, and a flick of her hoof outward was all it took.

Whiskey nodded. “Alright, deal.”

Fin let out a breath. “Then let’s go, I’m supposed to be there by seven.” He turned toward the stairs and called, “Applejack, I’m taking him with me!”

And then from the living room came, “Ah figured as much. Y’all have fun.”

Confused, Fin investigated to find his wife. The ancient wooden building creaked with the lightest touch, so how she’d managed to get past him unnoticed was more than concerning. Still, the forty-two-year-old mare appeared as she always did in the old rocking chair. She had the TV remote, a cider at her side, a set of knitting needles and a ball of yarn in her lap.

Scanning the living room, other than her, it was totally empty. Fin raised a brow at her. “You free tonight too?”

Applejack nodded, keeping her eyes on her yarn. “Yessir.”

“Where are all the kids?”

“Dumb and dumber are at the bakery, Gin’s at the shelter, and the little ones are at that bowlin’-alley-game-center-party-place fer Kick Flip’s birthday party.” As expected of the mother bear.

“Those poor boys,” Fin sighed.

Applejack shrugged. “Haze is there, which means Dash is also there, so at least somepony will keep Craft occupied. Goddess knows she can’t kill the fun for everypony.”

“Well, as long as everypony is accounted for, I will see you later tonight.”

She blew a kiss, and he caught it in the face. “See ya later, Sugarcube.”

It had been about fourteen years since Applejack was last pregnant, but she might still be capable… But, it was already past six thirty and Discord was the worst stickler for punctuality, of all things.

“Love you!” Fin returned the kiss, and turned for the door. “Driver, fetch the car.”

“Ah can’t believe you’re makin’ me drive…” Whiskey grumbled.