TEN MONTHS AGO
Carnegie Porter was a rather peculiar pony.
He was basically average in looks, though he did lean towards handsome. The reason why he couldn't flat-out be called 'handsome' was probably because he barely kept himself well enough to be presentable.
He had been living rockily with Berry Punch, helping her brew wines and various other alcoholic beverages for her bar. He was a brewer, it was his special talent. That and drinking. He did manage to make a few bits crafting beers, porters, and more on the side. But he didn't get a lot of business. So whatever he didn't sell he drank himself.
He admitted he had something of troubles with alcohol. Well, big troubles. But at least he wasn't an aggressive drinker. He was more like the funny drunk at the frat parties.
The precious liquid fire kept the lantern of his soul lit.
Carnegie Porter smirked to himself. That was pretty damn poetic, he thought. He was tipsy, but not drunk enough to be dead to the world. Not that he hasn't been that way before. More times than he could count.
He trudged his way to the Punch Bowl Bar & Hangout. He was going to have to wait for Berry Punch to finish work so he could go sleep at her brewery. He didn't have a lot of options, seeing as he was a drunken bastard without any friends.
It was one of the catches to being called 'the life of the party'. Of course, he was never invited to Pinkie Pie's parties. She didn't seem to like him. Which was odd, since she liked everypony she met.
He admitted to himself that his questionable habits didn't give him a lot of options for friendship.
Of course, he was friends with Berry Punch. In fact, they were in a relationship of sorts. Or rather, as she preferred to call it, 'being friends with benefits'. They had been on and off for weeks. She was hinting at a break-up. Which sucked, since he lived in her basement. And she was pretty bitchy.
He was friends with Vinyl Scratch. The mute disk jockey liked how well the stallion could mix a martini. Then again, Carnegie wasn't too sure if DJ Pon-3 even knew his name. Not that he cared.
Okay, maybe he cared a little bit.
Two mares. Beyond that, he had no friends.
Ye-ouch.
Carnegie waltzed into Berry's bar. She smiled brightly at him as he sauntered up to the bar, and took a seat on a stool.
"Hey, hon. What can I getcha?"
"Ehh... scotch. And a vodka. I'm feelin' risky tonight."
"Coming right up!"
He made sure to admire Berry Punch's plum-colored flank as she turned about to grab his bottles of alcohol. She turned suddenly, catching him staring. She winked as she poured him two separate shots.
"Boy, you are feelin' risky tonight," she said, mocking his cockney accent. He scowled playfully, and when she turned again, he smacked her flank lightly as she bent low to grab a dropped glass. Sometimes, Berry could be a sexy lass. Carnegie took a moment to wonder if she was bipolar.
Carnegie looked to Berry Punch, mulling over his situation. He'd better ask her his questions while she was in a good mood.
"So... anypony come in today lookin' for a roommate?"
Berry shook her head sadly.
"Sorry, hon. Looks like you're in for another night in my brewery. I'll see if I can leave the ovens on, warm it up a bit."
"Thanks, hon."
Later, after the bar closed, Carnegie took the scenic route to Berry's home. He didn't want to rush to a cold basement floor. The streets of Ponyville had gone quiet. He was alone, walking the dimly lit paved roads. He shivered as a cool breeze billowed through the sleeping town.
The wind had picked up, and a yellow flier smacked into his face, instantly answering all of his problems.
ROOM-MATE WANTED
Dr. Time Turner, Eng.D.
looking for male roommate
Look for large house on Baking Street.
Can't miss it.
Must be able to pay half of monthly rent.
Carnegie Porter smirked, reading the flier again.
"Doctor, huh?"