Last Ditch

Chapter Nine:

Spike slammed on his brakes, and the Corvette came to a screeching halt. He climbed out the window, not bothering to even use the doors during his excitement of winning, and ran over to the pits, where Fleetwood and Eldorado popped the cork of a bottle of champagne.

"Great job, buddy!" Fleetwood cried in happiness as Spike scurried over to him, "we did it, just look at Westside!"

Spike looked into Westside's pit box, and saw him yanking off a pony's racing helmet.

"Air-dammit, Stetson!," he howled, paralyzing the failed driver with fear, "I don't care if you ARE a cop, I know what i'm saying when I say, YOU CAN'T DRIVE WORTH A BUCK! Fairlane, get this guy outta here!"

A blue unicorn hurried over, and began to drag Stetson to an Econoline van.

"You can't do this to me, you goon!" he screamed as Fairlane pushed him in, "I'm an officer of the law-"

"Oh, shut it!" growled the much larger and intimidating Fairlane as he shut the van's rear door. He then walked over to the driver's door, climbed in, and drove off.

Spike was about to go over and help Wilcox out of his deathtrap of a Plymouth, when he noticed Rarity and Irvan going at each other YET AGAIN, although this time was probably the worst they had fought.

"It wasn't my fault that I placed second!" Irvan protested as Rarity turned her back to him, "It was all smooth sailing until that Celestia-forsaken Plymouth Belvedere took a huge chunk out of my bumper!"

"Irvan, you idiot!" Rarity screamed, "First, that was a Plymouth FURY, not a Belvedere. Second, you are the worst boyfriend EVER! You get me thrown off a dinner train, lose my contract with R.J. Coltfield's, and you embarass me in front of Canterlot's highlife!"

"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT WAS A BELVEDERE?! And besides, I don't see any highlife here, all I see are some stupid hicks on some unsafe bleachers!"

"Look over there, then!"

Rarity gestured toward three large, shiny skyboxes that overlooked the bleachers and the track. Inside them, unbeknownst to Irvan, were some of Canterlot's biggest racing and fashion names.

"You know what," he growled, "forget it, Rarity, I'm tired of you beating up on me like you do to Sweetie Belle, I'm out of here, we're through! Get yourelf another punching bag!"

"FINE!" Rarity raged, a tear coming to her eye, "I DON'T NEED YOU!" She than began to cry, and ran to her Bentley.

"Good news, eh buddy?" Fleetwood asked, interrupting Spike's eavesdropping.on the troubled former couple, "now you're free to hit on Rarity!"

"And then again," Fleetwood said to himself softly, a malevolent grin appearing on his face, "so am I...."

"Yeah," Spike agreed, not hearing the second part, "great!" He was happy that Rarity was single, but still could feel some empathy for the battered Irvan, who was driven over the edge by her.

"So," Fleet continued, "Spike, you have passed my training."

"REALLY?!"

Spike felt his excitement begin to overflow again as the thought of passing the rigorous training flashed through his mind. With Irvan out of the way, and his training passed, he could finally get a shot at his dream girl.

"Spike," Fleetwood said proudly, "It is to my great satisfaction to present you with a passing grade in the gentlecolt training, and now I will present you with the Number ONE tool for getting mares: a car!"

"Oh, man!" Spike said, trying to contain his excitement as he bounced up and down.

Fleetwood led Spike to a battered 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z-28 in the parking lot with a "For Sale" sign on it's windshield.

"This was my first car. I was gonna give it to Wilcox, but he has that Plymouth Fury now, so I'm giving it to you."

Spike was in awe at the sight of the legendary muscle car.

"Is it fast?"

Fleetwood gave Spike the "Really, kid?" look that he had flashed toward him so many times over the last month.

"Custom-installed 500 Cubic Inch Cadillac Eldorado V-8, Custom Mel-O-Matic 10 speed, Goodwrench Performance Suspension Coils, you better believe it's fast!"

"Wow," Spike was amazed by the features on the humble-looking legend, "How much money did you put into this thing?!"

"I don't know, about $40,000 Bits..."

"WOW!"

"Remember, Spike..." Fleetwood cautioned, "Layla was built in 1969, she's not like Twilight's Volvo, she actually has some value to her! Treat her well."

Fleetwood threw the keys to Spike, but they missed his hand, and fell to the parking lot's gravel. Spike snatched them up with glee, a grave reminder of his greedy dragon instincts which had destroyed half the town years before.

"Hey, guys!" Mel and Wilcox, hooves around each other's backs, came trotting up, "We're gonna hit the clubs tonight for a victory drink, you wanna come?"

"You know I do!" Fleetwood cheered, "Which one?"

"ALL OF 'EM!"

"Sweet Celestia, this is gonna be sweet! Wait, Spike can't come because he's not old enough!"

"Yes," Mel said slyly," But that rule only applies to PONIES, Spike's a dragon! Whadd'ya say, Spike, wanna get sloppy drunk and sleep with random mares?"

"ALRIGHT!"

"Okay, then," Fleetwood said enthusiastically, "We're good to go! But wait, who's gonna be our designated driver?"

"We don't have to have one!" Wilcox pointed out, "I was thinking on going to Canterlot for a while tonight, so we could at first take it easy on the drinking in the crummy South Side bars, and then drive up to Canterlot, and take the train home!"

"That, Wilcox, sounds like a BRILLIANT idea!"

"Then what are we waiting for, you weak-stomached plotholes?" called Eldorado, hobbling up to them, "Let's go!

****

The following evening was the strangest of Spike's life. It was a blur of traffic lights, cocktails, and George Thorogood blaring in low-end bars. He also remembered Fleetwood playing poker in the Royal Celestian.

"Three, craps, you lose." said one of the gruff stallions playing.

"Oh, Damn it!" Fleetwood slurred, jumping onto the table, and stomping on the chips, "THAT WAS PRACTICE, THAT WAS PRACTICE!"

He also remembered being in a Ponyville South Side pub, sitting next to an inebriated Eldorado and the always impared Berry Punch:

"I think... I think I remember you from somewhere, missy," he stuttered, "Hey, weren't you at that Racetrack in Pheonix, Arizona a few months back?"

"I was if you want me to have been!" she said cheerily, snuggling up into his side.

There was a scene in the Royal Celestian's ballroom that he remembered very much:

He and Fleetwood were at a counter, atop a balcony that looked out over the entire ballroom. They were staring out into the sea of ponies, all dancing to music from Eldorado's generation.

"I remember my first dance with a mare!" he said proudly, hiccuping due to the alchohol.

Spike's eyes widened. "You do?"

"Naw," Eldorado laughed, "I'm so bucking plastered I can't remember why we're here!"

"Hey," said Wilcox suddenly, pointing out toward the mob of ponies on the dancefloor, "Isn't that Rarity?"

"Yeah, that is her, isn't it!" Fleetwood replied, "She's all alone, too! Now's your chance, "Spikey-Wikey", go get your dream-girl!"

Spike hurried down a great spiral staircase to the ground floor, to Rarity was standing. He then noticed that the band began to play a fast-paced swinging song that he had heard from somewhere before.

****

"Excuse me," he panted as he approached Rarity, "May I have this dance?"

Rarity looked at Spike's tuxedo, and then into his eyes. "Well, I suppose it would be alright."

The two began to dance, reeling and rocking to the World War Two-era swing, and they wound their way through many ponies, toward the center of the room.

"Excuse me," interrupted Fleetwood, popping almost out of nowhere, "Spike, can I have a go at it?"

Spike was not happy at shortening his crowning moment in life, but Fleetwood was his mentor, so he let him dance with his long-time love. The band played deep into the night, Rarity switching between the two at 6 minute intervals, until it was time to go home.

****

Spike sat in the dining car of the Canterlot Cannonball, staring out through the window at the mountainous terrain which the train was traversing. His mind was beginning to clear after the long drunken blur, and he was reflecting on how amazing his dance with Rarity had been. The image of them, together at last, would stay in his mind until the end of his life. Screw the Grand Galloping Gala, THIS night had definitely been, the best night ever. He walked back to the sleeper car in which he was staying, still thinking about his expirience. But then, he bumped into just who he was fantasizing about, none other than Rarity!

"Hey, Rarity!" he said cheerfully, fighting back the racking headache that was beginning to hit him, "What are you doing on the train?"

"Oh, well," she sputtered, probably slightly over .08 herself, "I decided to take the train home instead of running the risk of being pulled over."

"I really enjoyed it tonight," Spike continued, his eyes shining, "It was amazing, absolutely amazing."

"I enjoyed it too, but really, Spike, I must get some beauty sleep. Good night!"

"Okay, good night!"

The unicorn hurried off from the direction from which she came, seeming very eager to go to sleep. Spike thought she had been acting a little strange, but then again, she could've just been intoxicated, so Spike dismissed the thought. But then, an image of Fleetwood and Rarity, on the same dancefloor just a few hours earlier, flashed through his mind. Could his best friend and mentor be in love with Rarity too?

"No," he thought, "He probably is just friends with her!"

He tried to tell himself this, but the image of Fleetwood kept flashing through his head as he walked into the sleeper car, and layed his head to his pillow. He let the image leave his head as he said his prayers, and went to sleep. Tomorrow was a bright new day, and Rarity was now showing signs of liking him. Things couldn't be better.