Just recovered from the depths of "The Mailbox: Reloaded" its "Spike's Unsupervised Summer"!

Spike rolled over, head pounding and with a pair of venetian shutter shades on. He also appeared to have acquired a white suit jacket at some point the previous night. He took off the utterly ridiculous looking sunglasses to take stock of his location, as well as some evidence of what had happened the night before. The answers came fairly quickly; there were ponies passed out all over the floor, surrounded by random trash and empty cider and beer bottles. He vaguely recalled having a few of his friends over. It seemed that those friends had invited a few of their friends and so on, like a terrible party fission reaction. The reaction seemed to have been catalyzed by the performance of some super group involving Vinyl Scratch, apparently named "EVERYPONY GETS LAID". At least he had hoped that was the band's name, because the flyer stuck to him announced "TONIGHT AT THE TREECASTLE, EVERYPONY GETS LAID! Door $5, 2 drink minimum". He sincerely hoped he would at least get a cut of the profits; he'd need it for damage control and repairs.

At that moment, Discord strolled into the room. He was wearing the biggest pair of designer sunglasses imaginable and a shit eating grin; he was in his elements.

"Ugh, what the crap man? I thought you were on royal probation and couldn't do this anymore!" Spike groaned out as he sat himself fully upright, only to raise his stubby knees to put his head between.

"Me? Oh no, my dear dragon. You managed this one all on your own. You told the three little avatars of my will they could, and I quote, 'try their hooves at throwing a rager cutie mark'." Discord lowered his shades to peer over them condescendingly "Take a wild guess how that worked out for you."

Spike's pupils constricted as adrenaline flooded his body, realizing that if what he was being told was true, he had screwed up bad. The crusaders were nowhere to be found, however. This was a universal constant; should the three fillies be involved in destruction, they would most certainly not be at the point of origin but rather at the end of a path of pain and misery they were blissfully unaware of.

"No. Come on, I'm way smarter than that."

"I'm afraid so, however you had been...how did you so eloquently put it? 'Day drinking like a beast all day' when you said yes. I must say, I am impressed by your flagrant disregard for sanity and safety in the pursuit of mindless enjoyment. The band's name most certainly got ponies in the door, by the way. My hat goes off to you, sir, as only I thought Pinkie could possibly cause something like this!" Discord congratulated as he rolled a top hat out of thin air down his arm from a mock salute, and bowed.

"Okay, this is bad. Very, very bad. Double plus un-fucking-good!" Spike shouted and ranted as he got to his feet and paced the room, taking care to not step on blacked out ponies. "Fuck me, this can't get worse."

"Oh, but it can!" Discord positively beamed. "You did something amazingly stupid and hilarious last night, just after I got here. And with no prodding from me, either! "

"...I am all kinds of terrified. What did I do, Discord?"

"Well, you made out with a certain young filly you know. Most of your peers saw, cheered, and I believe a few wagers were made."

"Oh no. Oh please don't be who I think it was..."

"Oh it's not. But I do remember her saying that you were just 'thuper' however." and with that, Discord left the room as he cackled maniacally.

Spike became a few shades visibly paler, and sprinted to the nearest garbage can to evict the current tenants of his stomach. He would spend the rest of the day in the shower, crying, desperate to achieve a clean that no scouring could deliver.

Now illustrated to give you a picture of what Spike looks like! for shut in autists