//------------------------------// // Prologue: Ventes-sur-lattes, in which four fillies get intoxicated // Story: CUTIE MARK CRUSADER SLEEPOVER AT OCTAVIA'S! YAY! // by Wise Cracker //------------------------------// The mare trotted through the green hallway, urgency in her step but composure still held. It didn’t take long to find her destination. One needed only to listen for a loud conversation. “I can’t believe you, Berry, puttin’ something that dangerous in your fridge when you know there’s little children about,” Applejack started. Berry sighed in response and held her head low. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry? I didn’t think this sort of thing would happen.” “Darling, as much as I hate to say it, Applejack is right. It’s irresponsible to keep something that dangerous lying around where anyone can reach.” “Excuse me, ladies,” the newly arrived Earth pony interrupted, “would any of you care to inform me what exactly has happened to your little sisters? The front desk was somewhat hesitant to provide me with any details.” The three mares turned their heads to inspect the new arrival. Grey coat, dark grey hair, thick limbs… to Applejack and Rarity, she seemed oddly familiar. The cutie mark -- some sort of musical symbol neither of them really knew the meaning of -- certainly looked unique but neither of them could recall where they’d seen it. The bowtie definitely rang a bell or two, as well. “I’m sorry, but…who are you?” Rarity asked with a raised eyebrow. “My name is Octavia Philharmonica, I’m here for Scootaloo. So, I ask again, what’s happened to her?” “You’re Scootaloo’s big sister?” Applejack asked. Octavia kept up a stoic expression, smiling politely as she explained herself. “Not quite, but we do live under the same roof. I’m her aunt’s housemate. You all know Vinyl Scratch, I presume?” The farmer tried to get her head around that little bit of information. It did not work. “Wait, you live with her aunt and she lives with the both of you? How does that work?” “It works quite well, thank you,” came the dismissive reply. “Now, if you don’t mind, why is Scootaloo in the hospital?” “Well, apparently Miss Punch here thought it was a good idea to keep alcoholic beverages around while her little sister was left unsupervised,” Rarity hissed. “Along with your little sister, you mean,” Octavia remarked somewhat snidely. “What, pray tell, are you getting at, dear?” Rarity half-threatened. This new one sounded about as conceited as a Canterlot pony, and not the type she’d made friends with, either. Octavia, rather than pressing the issue, walked past the mares and knocked on the door of what she hoped was the right room. Rarity rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t bother, darling. They locked us out.” The door opened with a little crack, some whispering was heard between Octavia and nurse Redheart, and Octavia was let in while an exasperated nurse came out. Rarity’s jaw dropped. “What just happened?” Octavia smelled the air around the girls. The buckets next to their beds had been cleaned, but that familiar smell of post-intoxication regurgitation was still there. Piña Colada was the first to speak up. “Are you going to yell at us, too?” “No, darling, I just want to know what exactly happened. Your siblings seem a bit preoccupied at the moment.” Octavia sat her rump down to the tune of arguing mares right outside the door. “I heard you got sick drinking some alcoholic beverages. Are you feeling better now?” Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle sat upright, looking to their prone pegasus friend. “Well, our heads still hurt, and Sweetie Belle keeps saying she can feel the electricity in the lights. I think Scootaloo’s got it worst, though: she drank the whole bottle in one go.” Octavia’s eyes went over the orange filly’s body. She looked fast asleep, save for the fact that she slowly tried to move and keep her eyes open. Her open mouth, revealing the black tongue that they all shared now, was also a bit unsettling. Octavia leaned in to the little girl and whispered. “How are you feeling, Scoots?” She croaked. “Bad. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to do what I did. I-I didn’t mean to.” Octavia stroked the girl's head and looked up to the other three. “All right, then. Would any of you please tell me what exactly transpired to get you into this mess, and why is it that you all have black tongues?” “Thanks a lot, girls,” the pale pink filly started as they got off the train, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the help.” “That’s okay. Cherry sorting’s a lot easier than apple bucking, and Applejack did say I had to broaden my horizons. Plus, the extra bits from helping out miss Jubilee will go a long way to fixing our roof.” Apple Bloom kept her head high and tried to hide the little twitch in her hind legs. She’d overworked herself to impress the others, but in the end she didn’t mind. Piña tilted her head. “Your farm’s got a hole in the roof?” “No, our clubhouse does,” Apple Bloom replied with a roll of the eyes, ”since Scootaloo wanted to know if she could jump her scooter over a tree.” “I did,” Scootaloo proudly declared. “And she landed in the tree behind it.” “Oh… right.” The scenario played out in her head, making her grimace. Scootaloo didn’t look any worse for wear, at least.   “Is anyone else really thirsty? I think I swallowed some sand back at the orchard.” Sweetie Belle rubbed her throat and coughed. Pinña Colada perked up at that. “Oh, my sister’s got a fridge full of drinks. She said I could share.” “What kind of drinks?” Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “She said she put some bottles ready just for us, I don’t know what kind. But she always makes really good treats, even kinds that you can’t buy in Ponyville. Unless you wanna go home already…” She let that trail off. Piña wasn’t used to hanging out with the most notorious kids in town, but so far they didn’t seem so bad at all. And since she was still a blank flank -- most of the time, thanks very much, Cutie Mark Chameleon Syndrome – she did want to at least make a good impression. And to her delight, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were always up for new experiences. They hadn’t gotten a cherry sorting cutie mark, maybe they could get a drink tasting cutie mark. Once they’d actually gotten that far, though, one problem presented itself. “That label says ‘beer’.” Apple Bloom stood perfectly still, not daring to make a move towards the bottles. “Is that a problem?” Piña Colada raised an eyebrow as she offered a small bottle. “You’re giving us beer?” Scootaloo asked. “Umm… yeah. What’s wrong with beer?” Piña got the chilled bottles out for everypony. “My sister says beer is bad for you, and it’s definitely not for foals,” Apple Bloom stated matter-of-factly. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure my parents don’t want me drinking beer, either.” Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement. “But my sister told me to get this. She said it was a treat just for me and my friends.” “Well…” Octavia groaned after hearing the whole story. She gave Scootaloo a little pat on the head and headed for the door. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll sort this out. You won’t be here for much longer.” Once she exited, door still open, the musician was greeted by Rarity and Applejack still chewing out Berry Punch over the incident. Nurse Redheart was trying in vain to get them to be quiet, an endeavour that proved even more difficult than it had been when Pinkie Pie discovered the joy of celebrating a foal’s birthday. While they were trying to sleep and recover from the shock of being born, that is. Octavia tapped Redheart’s shoulder to get her attention. “Excuse me, nurse, but I had just had a talk with the girls and I must ask, is there any real reason to keep Scootaloo here any longer?” Redheart blinked a few times to remind herself that this one was, at least, not approaching a state of hysteria. “Well, the only reason to keep them here is for observation. The alcohol poisoning is one thing, but we don’t really know what that black thing is on their tongues. Piña Colada said Scootaloo tried to force-feed it to them once the dizziness came in, and she hasn’t been quite lucid enough to explain what it is or why she’d do that. There’s also the matter of her gulping it all down at once. At least the others were a little slow to drink the stuff.“ “Ah. Well, I can clear that up. The black substance on their tongues is activated coal. Scootaloo’s mother always keeps some with her, I guess Scootaloo does it too.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Activated coal? On a ten-year-old? Seriously?” the nurse asked, flabbergasted.   “What does that mean?” Rarity interjected. Nurse Redheart shook her head, confused. “It’s nothing dangerous. It’s a universal antidote, sort of. It absorbs poison if you’ve swallowed any. It doesn’t cure anything, but it stalls for time. I guess she thought they’d drank some sort of poison and that it would help. But why would she drink a whole bottle in one gulp? Where does she get that?” Octavia chuckled. “Her father does that all the time, he got it from some flying reindeer and… you know kids: monkey see, monkey do. It’s a silly habit, I know. This really isn’t as bad as it looks, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to take Scootaloo home now.” “Sure. I’ll go get the paperwork,” Redheart replied, hastily making good her retreat before the other mares warmed up their tongues again. “You’d really rather take that girl home instead of keeping her in the hospital for safety’s sake?” Rarity asked, incredulous. Octavia shrugged. “Ponyville hospital has greater concerns than a filly who needs to recover from being drunk. They didn’t get sent to the hospital after all their other little accidents, no need to keep them for the night.” “Little accident? Piña Colada got them drunk.” Rarity restrained herself from shouting, albeit barely. “Well, if memory serves, your little sister nearly got them stoned once in the Everfree Forest, so I’m willing to call it ‘par for the course’.” “And suppose she has brain damage?” Applejack tried. Octavia held up a hoof and smiled, before calling out behind her. “Scootaloo, darling, could you tell me how many cookies are in the cookie jar back home?” “Umm…no?” came the croaking reply. Applejack frowned. “I don’t look in the cookie jar, it’s off limits.” Octavia grinned to her compatriots. “Now, she is either lucid enough to remember following that rule, or lucid enough to lie about not following it. Either way, I’d say her brain is functioning normally. Besides that, if they had brain damage, we’d be having this discussion in the emergency ward, not here. I’d rather she rest up in the comfort of home, not within earshot of supposedly responsible adults bickering over who is to blame for a random accident.” Applejack glared. “We ain’t bickerin’, Octavia.” “Quite right, Applejack. I will not be told off when some careless ditz lands my little sister in a hospital. We have every right to speak our minds and they should hear that we’re standing up for their safety,” Rarity concurred. “Darling, regardless of what you call your method of communication, it is loud and it is disturbing. It’s giving me a headache, and I’m ruddy sober. So I’d rather Scootaloo relax with something a little more calming to listen to. Her aunt’s death metal collection comes to mind.” That little jab silenced the both of them for a bit. “So you don’t think is my fault, or Piña’s?” Berry Punch took her turn in being surprised. “Do you honestly want to know what I think? I think that if Scootaloo and her friends had listened to little Piña, this would not have happened. I think the only reason this silly accident transpired is because of a misunderstanding. The girls found bottles labelled ‘beer’, and only one of them thought it was meant for them. I think that if the girls had been told there is a thing called alcohol that makes drinks unfit for foals, they might have listened to Piña and gone for the table beer like they should have. But no one did, so they went with the alcoholic lemonade, even though the beer had their name on it. At any rate, I don’t think any one pony is to blame for this. We could all have avoided it quite easily,” Octavia calmly explained with that dominating presence Canterlot ponies loved to bring forth. “That still doesn’t excuse having unlabelled bottles of alcoholic drinks just lying around, especially if they look that much like lemonade,” Rarity started, glaring at Berry. “Well, if there were unlabelled drinks in the house, then I presume at least one foal was informed never to take any unlabelled drinks to begin with.” Octavia shot a glance to Berry, who nodded in reply. “So there you have it. You can’t blame Berry for setting up a rule and the girls not following it. It was the rest of them who convinced Piña that the unlabelled bottles were safer. As for why they were unlabelled… vente-sur-lattes surplus, I take it? I wasn’t aware you could do that with anything, I thought it was just champagne.” Again, Berry Punch just nodded and shrugged. Rarity and Applejack were bobbing their heads back and forth between the two, clearly caught out of the loop. Nurse Redheart came by again, paperwork in mouth. They went inside and placed the forms on Scootaloo’s bed so Octavia could sign them. “There. Time to go home, Scootaloo.” She tried to get up, but she wound up wobbling unsteadily and collapsing on the bed again. Her voice came out slurred. “I-I’m not surrrre if I can really walk right nowwhoa -” She stumbled forward, nearly falling out of bed before Octavia caught her.   “Then I guess I’ll just have to carry you home.” Octavia bent over for the dizzy filly to drape herself over that comfy back. Nurse Redheart stroked the girl’s mane back, just in case she threw up again. “Now remember: no strenuous activities, no heavy meals, and –“ “Lots of water and minerals. Thank you, nurse, I know the drill.” That got the first real smile from Redheart since this little crisis had erupted. As she trotted out, Applejack and Rarity shot the musician an odd look. She paid it no heed. “Right, this has certainly been a very exciting afternoon. I’m sure you have much to discuss, but if it’s all the same to you I’d rather discuss things further when everypony has calmed down.” “Are you implying that we are not calm?” Rarity hissed. Octavia slowly walked along, careful to keep the filly on her back stable. “Implying? No, darling, I am remarking that your argument is giving the maternity ward a run for its money. Be a dear, would you, and either stop shouting at poor Berry here or move the argument to where your intoxicated sisters don’t have to listen to it?” Silence fell as she passed by, and she didn’t bother to check the facial expressions. As much as Octavia liked making new friends, the hospital was not an appropriate place to do so and the argument she’d walked in on had no business being that close to four fillies who’d had their first brush with alcohol. Well, three fillies now. Scootaloo stirred as they exited the hospital and the bright sunlight hit her. “Don’t try to move too much, darling. Just lie back and I’ll get you home. How’s your stomach?” Said stomach groaned, along with its owner. “All emptied out.” “I’ll fix up something nice and light for you, then.” “Hey, Octavia?” Scootaloo raised her head just a little, causing the mare to stop. “What’s wrong?” “Thanks for not yelling at me.” She chuckled to herself and resumed her pace. “Think nothing of it, dear. And don’t feel bad about Rarity and Applejack. They were worried, nothing more. Ponies act strange sometimes when they’re scared. I’m sure they’ll be right back to their old selves once everything’s settled down, and we’ll have a nice talk when they do.” “So, you’re not angry about me drinking… whatever that was?” “Really, Scootaloo, it was an honest mistake. You can’t be expected to know what an alcoholic lemonade tastes like, especially that awful stuff. It’s so sweet you hardly notice the liquor in it. Rather defeats the purpose, if you ask me. But now you know: read the label before you drink it, and don’t touch something that doesn’t have a label. Even if you’re sure it’s a drink, that doesn’t mean it’s going to go down well… or cause anything to come up again.” “I will. And I don’t ever want to drink alcohol again.” The filly shook her head back and forth. She noticed they’d reached Ponyville’s main road already, just passing by Sugarcube Corner. Fluttershy gave her a worried glance passing by, but Scootaloo just gave her ride a quick hug and a smile to show she was okay. No one had ever seen her with Octavia, and now was not the time to be making long-winded introductions. At least Pinkie Pie knew about her, but then she knew about every pony in town. “Oh, don’t say that. When you’re old enough, you’ll get to taste all sorts of drinks. You just need to be careful of when, what and how you drink, that’s all. Trust me, when you’ve tasted a fine wine or a proper whiskey, and when you’ve learned the value of moderation, you’ll forget all about today’s bad experience. Those alco-pops, or whatever they’re called, have far too much sugar in them to get a good taste for it. Wait until you try a proper alcoholic drink and judge it then.” “I guess, if you say so. I’m just worried, you know?” “Of what, darling?” “What’ll my mom say, or aunt Vinyl?” “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be very proud of you, still lucid enough to reach for a medicine when you’ve just downed that amount of alcohol. Honestly, even I’m impressed. I’ve seen college students with worse reactions than yours.” Scootaloo laughed, then coughed. “Urgh, my breath smells like vomit.” Octavia chuckled again. “Yes, that’ll happen. And I’ll be sure to wash that smell out of your mane and mine when we get home.” “Sorry. I hope it comes out.” To that, Octavia practically burst out in laughter. “Oh, Scootaloo… if only you knew.” “Knew what?” “Let’s just say that smell is oddly nostalgic to me.” “Huh?” “You smell just like your aunt did when I first met her.” “Really?” “Oh yes. Your mother, too, almost.” Scootaloo crawled forward a few inches to check Octavia’s face. It didn’t look like she was lying, or joking. “Then what did my mom smell like, exactly?” “Like you do right now, but with more apple.” “Huh? Wait, how did you meet aunt Vinyl and my mom?” Octavia casually averted her eyes. “Let’s just say that when I first met your family, copious amounts of cider were involved, and quite a bit of it did not land where it was supposed to.”