Paint It Red
The mid evening air was cool and a breeze blew in from the north. The sun was setting in the east and left the sky a bountiful collage of red, yellow and orange. Three ponies made their way through the streets of Ponyville with thoughts of hedonism and debauchery on their minds and desire burning in their hearts.
The evening was calm, and the small — but slowly growing — town of Ponyville was about to cross paths with the illest intentions of three of it’s most rambunctious citizens.
Rumble led the way. He bounced back and forth between skipping, jumping, dashing, leaping and racing down the streets and ahead of his companions — who were still Shady Daze and Button Mash and whom were trailing behind him at slower, more restrained speeds. Shady Daze held his head high, letting the early evening wind brush his against his face and tussle his mane. Button Mash, too, did this. Both colts wore unbreakable looks of pride and determination on their faces.
At the corner of the street where four roads converged, the threesome stopped to catch a breath of fresh air. Rumble flopped down onto a park bench, Button beside him, while Shady pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up with a gold plated lighter.
“I can’t believe we left without opening the rest of my presents,” said Button Mash, his smile faltering and slipping down his cheeks, “This ‘secret present’ you couldn’t tell me about at my place had better be really good.”
Rumble — who was taking a nip from the unlabeled bottle of potato vodka — turned his head to Button Mash. He swallowed a mouthful of spirits, wiped the back of his hoof across his mouth then allowed his face to reform into a smirk.
“Button. Trust me when I say this; what we have planned is better than anything any of your aunts or uncles would have gotten you.” Rumble smirked, “By and far.”
Shady Daze exhaled smoke through his nose, and with the cigarette clenched between his lips, nodded his head in agreement with Rumble’s assertion.
Button Mash’s lower lip came up over his upper one and he snorted a sigh through his nostrils.
“I don’t know,” he said, “I was really looking forward to at least getting to open some of my other presents.”
Thoughts of the pile of gifts sitting on his coffee table at home filled his head; Freak Power comics, Daring Do books, Fullmetal Pegasus mangas, Doctor Colossus action figures. Envelopes with cheques and cards with painfully unfunny birthday jokes. All of them so alone, dolled up in wrapping paper and topped off with pretty little bows, without anyone to enjoy them.
Button Mash sighed again.
“I know it sucks to have to leave all those presents behind,” he said to Button Mash, “But, you have to believe us when we say this; what we have planned is going to be the absolute best birthday present you’ll ever get. Bar none.”
Button Mash’s eyes grew wide with the promise of a present beyond the realm of his imagination.
“Is it a Game Sphere?” he asked in an anxious, jittery tone.
Rumble wrapped his hoof around the back of Button Mash’s neck and pulled Button’s head to his chest, strangling him into a headlock. He mussed up the colt’s mane with the fetlock of his right hoof, knocking back his beanie-cap, and laughing.
“No, you little dork!” said Rumble, “I’m talking about glistening, melt in your mouth, pussy!” Rumble took a pause to roll his tongue out from his mouth and lap at the air in a faux-display of cunnilingus — an act which he was more than familiar with.
“You know what I mean right, Button? I’m talking about gash? Snatch? Slit? Twat? Va-gi-na?” he cocked an eyebrow and his cheeks spread apart with a knowing grin, “Me and Shady Daze are going to find you the perfect mare to lose your V-Card to tonight.”
Rumble released Button Mash from his grip, and the colt drew his head back. He squared out his wild mane and readjusted the beanie cap onto the centre of his head. Either from embarrassment, or from exhaustion, his cheeks turned red and he kicked the dirt on the ground before him. He lifted his head and smiled, shyly, up at his friends.
“Really?” he asked, glancing with the wide eyes of a foal on Hearth’s Warming Eve towards Rumble — who smiled — and then at Shady Daze — whose face was strong with a neutral grin.
To answer his quandary, both colts nodded their heads.
“Wait,” Button Mash stated, “Before I say how stupid it was for you guys not to tell me the plan before we left my house, can I say how stupid it was that you guys let me leave my house still looking like this?”
He gestured to his outfit, consisting of his omnipresent beanie cap and the pink knitted hoodie that he wore over his chest, down to well past his waist. The same pink knitted hoodie gifted to him by his grandmother. A request from his mother to wear it out was the logic behind why he was still wearing it, as Button Mash was a pony who didn’t like to disappoint, discredit, or in any way shape or form upset his mother.
“We wanted it to be a surprise,” said Shady answering Button Mash’s question, “Though, now that you mention it, it does seem sort of silly that we didn’t mention it...”
Button Mash rolled his eyes. “Gee, you think?”
“That hoodie looks fine, Button.” reassured Rumble. “Right, Shady?”
“Oh, yes,” nodded Shady Daze, “You look quite dapper.”
“And that’s coming from Shady Daze,” said Rumble, turning to face Shady, “Who, like all the rest of his kind, I naturally assume has a strong familiarity with the world of fashion?”
Shady nodded. “Of course.”
“Yeah, but...” Button Mash tried to protest, only to have Rumble shove a hoof in his face and over his mouth.
“C’mon, Button.” he said, “Girls will think you’re going for an ironic look.” He removed the hoof from Button Mash’s mouth, and when he was sure no more words of ill gotten will about what he was wearing would come out of his friend’s mouth, Rumble continued “Besides, you won’t be wearing it for long when we find the right girl to tear it off of you, right?”
A pink and crimson blush broke out across Button Mash’s cheeks. He bit his lower lip as his eyebrows lowered, before he nodded his head.
“So, uh, you guys really think I have a chance at scoring tonight?” he asked, “I mean… you’re not just planning to, you know, hire somepony or something…” he pricked up a single eyebrow, “Are you?”
“We did think about it.” Shady said with a smirk drawing across his lips and up his cheeks, “But then we spent most of our money on that picture frame we got you, so it looks like you’ll just have to rely on being your charming self instead.”
“Yeah,” Rumble smirked, “Tonight you’re going to have a taste of the holiest of the holy courtesy of your wit, charm and good looks..”
“Well, I am good looking,” Button Mash said, puffing out his chest, “At least, that’s what mom tells me that all the time. And, I know that she’s never lied before,“ Button Mash smiled softly, only for it to falter into a frown seconds later, “It’s just, well… Sometimes I get shy around girls, and then I get nervous, and once I’m nervous I start to sweat and then I feel like a big gross mess, and I always feel like girls pick up on that?“ he licked his lips, “Do you think they do? Can girls smell fear?“
“I… Um... I really don’t know how to answer that one, Button.” Shady Daze said and turned to Rumble. “Rumble?”
“Yes,” Rumble said, nodding his head, “Girls can definitely smell fear.”
“Are you sure we can’t turn around and go back to my place super quick?” Button Mash asked, “I could just slap some cologne on? Just to cover up the smell of this hoodie?”
He lowered his face to the hoodie and buried his nose deep into his chest. He inhaled slowly through his nostrils, then drew his face away from himself, rolling his tongue out of his mouth. He made the same sounds a pony did before doing the big spit; gagging, coughing and wheezing.
“What’s it smell like?” asked Shady.
Button Mash sighed, “It definitely has that old pony smell.” he said, “Like, remember that time we took a field trip to the retirement home for ‘community awareness day’ when we were in grade nine?”
Shady Daze and Rumble recalled, rather unpleasantly, that particular excursion and just how traumatic an experience in their lives it had been. Shady Daze’s cheeks had been bruised for a week afterward from all the pinches.
For Rumble, it was a different experience than Shady Daze. He had a grandfather who lived across the hall from his grandmother in the retirement home, and, on a whim Rumble had snuck into his grandfather’s bathroom and swiped a bottle of pills.
What Rumble didn’t know was that his grandfather came from a generation of Pegasi that greatly distrusted ‘Dirt Ponies’ and ‘Horners’. Using this biased logic, his grandfather had switched the labels around on all of his pill bottles so that the ‘Horner’ orderlies couldn't do exactly what his grandson had done.
What should have been a bottle of doctor prescribed painkillers instead turned out to be a bottle of doctor prescribed laxatives. Rumble’s lesson in the pitfalls of petty theft had come when he’d spent the next two days of his life becoming acquainted with the many bathrooms across Ponyville.
“Yes,” Rumble groaned through tightly clenched teeth, “I remember that.”
“Well,” said Button, “This hoodie smells almost as bad as that…”
“You’ll be fine, Button,” said Rumble, expanding the length of his left wing outwards and draping it over Button’s back “But, just to be on the safe side you might want to take a more few swigs of this? Liquid courage is really the best confidence booster I know of.”
He offered Button Mash the vodka, and a shaky, repressive hoof from Button Mash reached to grab it. Cautious and anxious, he searched both left and right for any sight of witnesses to his participation in public intoxication. When he was quite sure the coast was clear, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a nice long swig. As he finished, he burped into his hoof, though he was still frowning. The charms of alcohol had yet to take their affect on the troubled colt.
Sensing this, Rumble placed a hoof onto Button Mash’s shoulder.
“Chin up, eh?” said Rumble, petting the colt on the space between his neck and back twice, “Remember: Sex. Tonight. With girls.”
Button Mash’s cheeks turned red and a lopsided, goofy smile crawled up his face. “Yeah. Sex with girls...”
He tapped his hoof on the ground, checked left, right, then took another long sip of vodka from the bottle. Bolstered by a stomach lined and filled with liquid courage, he put on a grin more goofy than before.
“You guys really think I’ve got a shot?” he asked, staring towards his companions with soft, needy eyes.
Rumble nodded his head. “Just follow my lead, don’t be such dork, and you should do alright.”
“Right, ‘Don’t be a dork’, yeah…” Button Mash smiled and leapt up from the park bench, “So, uh… Whoa…” He took a step back, his eyes bulged outwards and he whipped his head from the left to the right; his shaggy ginger mane flew across his face. “I’m getting kind of light headed…”
He staggered backwards a few paces, stopped and shook his head again. He took in a deep breath of air and exhaled, belching. Strands of saliva flew out of his mouth and his eyes rolled backwards.
“You okay, Button?” Shady asked, moving towards him.
“Oh, yeah.” Button Mash nodded his head and smiled a crooked grin. “I’m cool, dude. I’m totally chill.”
Rumble snorted then slapped Button Mash on the back. “That, my friend, is the attitude of a colt looking to lose his virginity.”
The goofy, lopsided grin on Button Mash’s face lifted higher up his cheeks. He shook his rear from the left to the right, puffed out his chest and then trotted in proud, confident steps forwards, holding his head high with pride.
“Yeah!” he cheered, kicking himself off the ground and clicking the heels of his back legs together, “I’m getting laid tonight!”
“Damn right!” Rumble laughed.
Once again Rumble pulled what little was left of the vodka from his pocket and when he did, he took a long, boisterous chug; his throat expanded and deflated for a few long moments while he swallowed back the cheap vodka. When he finished, he belched then gave a loud, jovial “Awoo” at the tops of his lungs.
A curious thing happened in a quiet moment between the three colts. The second that the bottle was stuffed back into Rumble’s pocket the world around him drifted away. Basic instincts and impulses took over his mind, and dictated his actions. These impulses sent him bolting down the street again, with Shady and Button Mash trailing behind him.
He had a song stuck in his head. It came from an album of Post-Punk Rock music that Thunderlane liked to play at parties. He couldn’t remember the name of the song to save his life, but he did remember the lyrics, and for reasons he couldn’t explain to any higher powers, he felt the need to share them with the rest of Ponyville. Which is what he did.
Skipping left, dashing right, lunging forwards and occasionally stumbling backwards, Rumble danced and sang his way down the street for his audience; the citizens of Ponyville unlucky enough to be within earshot and eyesight to watch his unfolding.
“I’ve got a terrible feeling itching/About a mare and her non stop talk!’” He screamed, leaping over the cracks in the pavement he walked on, popping his shoulders and swaying his waist violently to the left and right. “In a couple weeks she’ll be bitching!/Show her the door and make her walk!”
Watching one of his best friends become undone before his eyes — screeching lyrics about all the pitfalls of dating mares — Shady Daze was hit with a sudden curiosity; one which concerned how Rumble ever managed to have ‘adult relations’ with things that weren’t toasted bagels, pies, or inflatable polymer lovers shaped like Princess Celestia, Princess Sparkle or Princess Luna.
“She’ll go out at night and won’t leave you a bit!” screamed Rumble, “Laugh about it with her friends and won’t give a shit!”
He darted forwards, lifted himself off of the ground and grabbed onto a lamp post. He swung his body around it, once, then twice, and then released. His wings spread outwards and with the grace and dignity of a feather falling to earth, he landed on his hooves, stopped to shake his waist once more, then again he was tearing down the streets of Ponyville.
“Try your best but she’ll never smile!” he shouted, “Give a mare an inch and she’ll take a mile!”
On the street opposite Rumble, Shady Daze and Button Mash, Mr. Cake was walking with his two foal-aged children — Pound and Pumpkin. Curiosity hit him, his eyes fell on Rumble’s form and he stopped to stare. There were no words or phrases which could be strung together to explain the fear and loathing in his eyes. He tried, feebly, to shield first the eyes, then the ears, of his children. To protect them from the dastardly fiend they watched with innocent curiosity. But, four eyes and four ears were too many to shield with just his two hooves and he abandoned whatever parental interests he had in protecting his children. Rumble had won a battle he never knew he was fighting.
The thought that one day, years ahead in the future, the adult Pound or Pumpkin Cake would be laying on a velvet couch in a therapist’s office explaining to a pony with PHD’s on his wall that a traumatic event in his or her childhood had stolen their innocence hit Rumble. A warm feeling burned inside of his stomach. Stll singing, he spun left on the tips of his hooves, towards the Cake family, smiled and waved.
Pound Cake waved back.
Mr. Cake nearly fainted.
Rumble took off laughing.
“See, the trouble with mares today is...” He reared himself onto his hind legs, lifted his chest upright and slapped and strung the imaginary strings of an air guitar. “Their mouths won’t stop!”
Mayor Mare, minding her own business — as was her right — walked the street paces before Rumble. Oblivious to the living embodiment of the term ‘trainwreck’ half a block ahead of her, she hardly registered the offense to good taste that was the drunken, singing, pegasus.
Rumble did not afford her the same respect.
When his eyes fell on her he lowered himself back onto all fours and dashed towards her, still shrieking the misogynistic lyrics at the top of his lungs. His tone was off key. He was drunk and Mayor Mare was about to become the victim of an incident that would, if all went according to Rumble’s plan, either enhance or ultimately ruin the rest of her day. Rumble wasn’t picky, either option was good enough for him.
When Rumble reached Mayor Mare, he again lifted himself onto his hind legs and threw his left hoof around her right shoulder. He hugged himself against her body, and began bumping his waist into her. She fought, pushed against him and spat curses, but Rumble would have none of it. He lifted her leg with his right hoof, slapped his left hoof to her waist and tried, in vain, to force the older pony to spin.
Mayor Mare did not take kindly to this and mouthed something which looked an awful lot like “Not today…”
Shady Daze was six seconds too late to do much else but watch as Mayor Mare struck Rumble across the face with the backside of her left hoof. It was a classic slap. The kind that ended arguments between mares in the kinds of dramatic movies that he hated. Rumble, having taken more than his fair share of blows to the cranium, was entirely unphased by the slap. He laughed, spun himself so that his back was to Mayor Mare, then pressed his rear up against her waist and rubbed the cheeks of his rear against her.
Absolute and utter revolution overtook Mayor Mare. She screamed more curses, threatened jail time, kicked, slapped and shoved Rumble, who remained entirely ignorant to her words and actions.
It was Shady Daze who wrapped his hooves around Rumble’s chest and tore him off of the mayor. He threw Rumble to the side, smiled softly at the older mare and gave her a sympathetic look which would, hopefully, explain that; ‘Yes, he did understand the consequences of Rumble’s actions, but that his punishment would better be decided by the hooves of karma and the whim of the great magnet, than by her and the Equestrian legal system. Besides, juvie really wouldn’t even help a colt like Rumble. It would breed him into some kind of anti-authoritarian mutant, who, upon release, would torch everything in his path with an earned sense of vengeance. This would be entirely her fault. Of course.’
“Sorry about him,” was what he ended up saying, giving the mayor another soft smile, “We’ll just be going...”
Mayor Mare’s stone glare came on him so strong that Shady Daze’s belly filled with ice. For a brief moment he considered abandoning his friend to his fate, letting the powers that be see fit to punish Rumble while he high-tailed it to the train station to catch the next ride out of Ponyville. He wanted to hide away in some backwater town like Dodge Junction where he could spend the rest of his life praying no pony ever heard from him again.
“Get it together, boys.” said Mayor Mare, staring at him with cold, hard eyes.
By this time Button Mash had joined them, but was smart enough to know that keeping his mouth shut tight and playing ignorant to the events that had unfolded would look much better on his rap-sheet than aiding and abetting his friends. He stood still, with his head bowed and traced his hoof along the pavement, dragging tiny pebbles and dirt across the crosswalk.
Mayor Mare’s eyes moved from Button Mash, to Rumble, and then onto Shady Daze once more. There wasn’t so much as a single trace of humor or good nature on her face; the lines in her fur — earned through age — were creased and formed a malicious frown; one which spoke volumes of her disappointment, anger and distaste for the three ponies.
Sensing this, Shady Daze swallowed a lump in his throat then nodded his head. “Sorry, ma’am…”
She stared through him, then again turned her gaze to Rumble, and then Button Mash. Button Mash’s head was still hanging to the ground, though he lifted his eyes to meet the mayor’s and offered — as best as he could — an understanding, appreciative smile. She stared next at Rumble, who ignored her entirely.
Mayor Mare sighed, shook her head and then did and said no more about the three. Instead, she trotted away, muttering curses about ‘the youth of today’ while looking like she’d just become the victim of a heinous sexual crime — which was only a partial truth.
When she rounded the corner, and Shady Daze was sure that no authority figures would swoop down on them and throw them in a dark damp dungeon cell for the rest of their lives, he turned towards Rumble and glared.
“Do you have any idea how lucky we are right now?”
Rumble was still dancing, shaking his hips and chest in unison, and rocking his head from left to right. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Can you please try and calm down a bit?” Shady begged, “We’re not even going to make it to the bar if you keep going like this...”
Rumble stopped his jig and stared Shady Daze dead in his eyes.
“Sorry,” he groaned, paused, then a laugh escaped from his mouth, “Actually, no. I’m not sorry. I am so fucking stoked! It’s my best friend’s birthday today!” He stopped, reared himself back onto his hind legs and beat his hooves against his chest. “He’s finally legal, and he’s getting fucking laid tonight! That’s a milestone, Shady! That’s an event horizon!”
Rumble dropped back down to all fours, leaned his muzzle towards Button Mash’s face and pressed his lips, wet with vodka and saliva, to Button Mash’s left cheek. His lips made a wet *Pop* noise when he pulled away, and left behind two wet trails of saliva shaped like his lips. Button Mash’s cheeks flushed bright pinkish hues, and he pushed Rumble off of him.
“Shady does have a point,” he said, scratching at his neck, “You were just… twerking with our mayor.”
“I’m sure she loved it!” Rumble laughed, “In fact, I bet either of you a case of Lo-Brau, that, that’s the most action she’s gotten from a stallion in eons!”
“You’re mental, Rumble,” said Shady. “Seriously. She could have arrested you just now.”
“For what?”
“Oh, I don’t know; Public Drunkenness? Sexual Harassment? Public Indecency?” Shady Daze sighed, “Pick one, Rumble.”
“You pick one, Shady!” Rumble fired back.
“Nice one,” sighed Shady, rolling his eyes.
“Whatever,” grunted Rumble, before taking another long drink from the bottle of vodka. As he finished, he screwed the cap back on, shoved the bottle into his pocket and threw his head in the direction of road that the mayor had left on. Snarling, he grunted and spit a loogie onto the ground.
“Mayor Mare can go defile herself with the fun side of a cactus for all I care!” he shouted, “In fact, so can every stuck up pony who thinks that they’re too good for this town; Mayor Mare, Filthy Rich. The good lady Rarity. Diamond Tiara. Silver Spoon. Sweetie Belle-”
“Hey!” Button Mash snapped, “Don’t talk about Sweetie Belle like that, okay? She’s really nice...”
A smile crept it’s way up Rumble’s face. “You’ve still got a hard-on for Sweetie Belle, Button?”
“I don’t have a crush on her!” bellowed Button Mash hotly, “She’s just really smart, and pretty, and she smells really good. Like, sometimes she’ll sit beside me in class, and she has this perfume that she wears, and when she gets up to go to the bathroom or something, you can still smell it on her book bag and... ”
Blank faced and blinking, Rumble and Shady Daze stared at Button Mash completely silently for minutes.
“Oh, nerts!” Button Mash groaned, “That was out loud, wasn’t it?”
Rumble and Shady Daze nodded.
Button Mash’s face fell, and he sighed.
It started with a snicker from Shady Daze, then another from Rumble, and then, before he knew it, Button Mash’s two best friends were doubled over with laughter, all of it directed at him. Shady Daze pulled himself together, dusted the sleeves of his jacket off and then moved towards Button Mash.
“You know, aside from how creepy what you just said was, I think it’s actually kind of cute that you’re still into her,” Shady said, rubbing Button Mash’s back. “I mean, I get it. You guys did hang out a bit when you were younger, and you used to have ‘Milkshakes Mondays’ at Sugarcube corner. I think you’d make a cute couple.”
“Uh, thanks for that, Shady.” said Button Mash, rubbing his leg. “But, um, could we maybe keep that part about, erm, how I like how she smells between the three of us?”
Shady Daze and Rumble nodded, then Rumble broke away from the group and reared himself onto his hooves.
“Enough time wasting. No-more-stopping until we hit The Toad!” he declared, “Come on, it’s-” His eyes darted around the street until they scanned the digital clock in the window of The Quill and Sofa. “-Shit! How is it not even five o’clock yet?”
“That’s what I’m saying, Rumble!” sighed Shady Daze, “You two are either going to get arrested, puke, or pass out before we even make it to the first bar on this merry little adventure of ours.”
“Nuh uh.” Button chimed in, pacing forwards, stumbling left, right, and then straightening himself out. “We’re okay. The Toad’s only two blocks away, Shady. Plus, we’re not that drunk. Plus, I’m getting laid tonight. Plus, it’s my birthday, so we all get to do whatever we want!”
He raised his hoof, lost his balance and staggered left.
“Yeah, Shady,” Rumble said, “You heard the birthday boy, right? Instead of being such a dildo, why don’t you help me finish this bottle and join the dark side with us?”
Rumble’s hoof found itself once more in his pocket and then, just as quickly as it disappeared, it reappeared right before Shady’s face with what was left of a once entirely full bottle of vodka.
There were two blocks separating them from The Toad In The Hole now. Shady Daze could hardly see how much harm an uncultured hedonist and a lonely virgin could get into from then until they made it to the bar. With that in mind he took the bottle from Rumble’s clutches, clamped his eyes shut and took a strong enough gulp to keep him in good spirits.
Fire ran through his veins, his head got lighter and then, before he knew it, he was smiling again. Any and all negative thoughts about Mayor Mare, Rumble, Button Mash and the night ahead were gone.
Grinning to himself, he skipped paces ahead of Rumble and Button Mash, towards The Toad In The Hole.
***
Along with The Gilded Oat, Pastelles, Cranky Mule’s Pawn Shop and Evergreen, The Toad In The Hole was part of a trend of businesses that had pushed themselves into Ponyville in recent years and transformed the quaint town into a would-be hub stop. Unlike the previously mentioned restaurants, shops and businesses, The Toad in The Hole was a proper shithole.
The decor inside The Toad in The Hole was tacky and more than typical for a pub that drew it’s inspirations from Trottingham; the chairs creaked and wobbled and every single rectangular table had curses carved into the wood. The interior was dark, dingy and stunk of smoke and spilled spirits. The bodies behind the counter were more often than not just as drunk as the patrons they served, and they played the same Dirty Fetlocks album on repeat from open until close. There was a jukebox, a dartboard — with a picture of Prince Blueblood’s face in the centre — and a billiards table. The bathrooms had graffiti tagged across the walls and all live acts were shoved into a small corner in the far back where a stage too small for a single pony to stand properly faced the bar.
Of all the watering holes he had yet to be banned for life from in Ponyville, The Toad in The Hole was the one Rumble liked the most.
He entered through the doors with a drunken skip to his step. The second that tasteless Neo-Progressive Post-Punk music hit Rumble’s ears, he raised himself onto his hind legs and threw his upper legs out.
“Here I am, world!” he shouted, “Who wants to love me?”
He got no answer.
He lowered himself back to all fours and turned to Shady Daze and Button Mash.
“More drinks.” he sang, “More drinks! More drinks! More drinks!”
And then he was off again. Wading his way towards the bar, kicking at the air and snapping his head to the left then the right.
Shady Daze and Button Mash trotted calmly after him.
Rumble reached the bar, flopped into a barstool and slapped his hoof against the counter. “Service!”
A thin, frail looking, earth pony with box frame glasses, walked towards them. “What’ll it be, lads?”
“Six shots of Tequila Mockingbird,” Rumble barked, “And three pints of Lo-Brau.”
Shady Daze looked to Button Mash, who looked back at him. Both ponies shrugged their shoulders and took up places on opposite sides of Rumble at the bar.
“Six shots?” squeaked Button Mash. “I… uh, I feel like I could maybe do one.”
“Pussy,” grunted Rumble. “It’s your-”
“‘Birthday today’,” sighed Shady Daze, “We get it, Rumble.”
“Just take the shots, alright?”
A tray of drinks was set down before them; Six small, single serve glasses of liquid that looked the same colour as water from a rusty pipe, with three pint glasses filled with sudsy piss coloured beer.
“You’re looking at forty five bits,” said the bartender.
Rumble nudged Button. “Can you cover this, birthday boy?”
Button Mash blinked. “Are you serious?”
“C’mon, Button. I’ve, got, like…” he paused and lowered his voice, “I don’t have a lot of money on me tonight. But, I’m good for it.”
With a sigh, Button Mash reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a small satchel of coins that he threw onto the counter. The bartender pushed his box-frame glasses up his face and cleared his throat.
“You gotta tip, too, Button.” said Rumble.
Button Mash sighed, slipped his hoof into his pocket again and pulled out a hoof-full of bits that he tossed onto the counter.
The stallion behind the bar scooped the extra bits into his pocket, turned on his heel and moved away from the trio of colts, who sat staring down at their drinks.
“Happy birthday, Button!” Rumble cheered and lifted a shot glass off the table, “Should we do an ‘Awoo’ on three?”
Shady Daze and Button Mash grabbed their shots and nodded their heads.
“One.”
Shady braced himself.
“Two.”
Button swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Awoo!”
Rumble, then Shady and finally Button Mash swallowed back two standard ounces of mixed bottom shelf tequila and whiskey.
Tequila Mockingbirds were heinous and terrible things to take as a shot. The whiskey fought with the tequila on the tongue for control of taste buds, but by then the mind would already be recoiled in horror. Swallowing brought the mix down to the stomach, where half an hour after consumption, it would resurface in one way or another.
It wasn’t uncommon for most ponies to throw up after a shot of Tequila Mockingbird. Rumble was not one of those ponies.
He wiped traces of whiskey and tequila from the corners of his mouth with the back of his left hoof, hocked a loogie up in his throat — which he spit onto the floor the moment the bartender’s back was turned to him — then slapped the bar hard with his hooves.
“One more?” he asked.
Coming from Rumble, it wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement. His hoof had already gripped the second shot tight enough that with anymore pressure he’d have had shattered the glass. He was ready and it was only the vaguest notions of patience and respect for his friend’s well being that kept him from taking it.
Button Mash sighed. “Sure,”
Rumble didn’t do a count down. The second that Shady and Button’s hooves reached towards their shot glasses he’d already swallowed his, slammed it on the table and grabbed for his pint glass.
Half of the beer made it into his mouth, the rest of it ran down his chin and over his upper lip, then fell to the floor. When he was finished, he wiped the froth moustache away from his face with his hoof and slammed the empty glass onto the counter.
“Alright then,” he said, clapping his hooves together, “Who’s buying the next round?”
***
For over an hour, Rumble, Button Mash and Shady Daze had been slumped over the counter, trading barbs and throwing insults at each other.
A true and proper bar hop was a slow build. Something that required patience, an iron stomach and an affinity, familiarity and respect for the drink; If a pony drank too much too fast, he (or she) stood a chance of losing focus.
This was something you wouldn't want to do.
Rumble, and Shady Daze — and to a lesser degree, Button Mash as well — were quite familiar with the ins and outs of a bar crawl, and so they’d been pacing themselves over the last hour, moving from strong drinks to lite-beers or, in Shady’s case, a Bloody Maree.
His curious choice in drink was now the topic of discussion among the three.
“You realize what you’re drinking is just a glass of ketchup with vodka in it?” Rumble asked, “You just paid seven bits for a cup of the same condiment they have for free on all the tables here. You know that, right?”
Shady Daze slurped from his straw. He released, belched into his hoof, then licked his lips. “Yeah, but mine came with a bendy straw and ice cubes.”
He slurped his drink again. Rumble rolled his eyes. Button Mash spun himself around in his seat.
“Sure you don’t want one?” Shady asked, inching closer to Rumble and wiggling his eyebrows, suggestively. “They’re really good.”
“No thanks, Shady,” Rumble said, pushing Shady away, “I’ll just stick with beer and my pair of testicles, thanks.”
Shady Daze rolled his eyes and took another sip from the straw.
“Waste of vodka,” Rumble muttered, shaking his head.
Beside the two of them, Button Mash sat idly stirring around the last sips of beer in his glass, and watching the bubbles float to the surface. He drew his eyes away from his beer to stare around the bar, sighed deeply, then stirred his glass again.
“I thought you guys said there were going to be girls here?”
“Oh, they’ll come.” Rumble said, leaving obvious implications in the air.
“When?” asked Button Mash. “We’ve already been here an hour?”
Rumble stared around the bar and drank in his surroundings; there were ponies present, almost a dozen, spread out across the bar, hunched over drinks and staying quiet. None of them, however, were mares. He tapped his hoof on the counter and short seconds after the bartender — whose name tag read ‘Morty’ — came to his call.
“What’ll it be?”
“How about an explanation for letting this place turn into the saddest gay bar in town?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Morty,” said Rumble. “This place used to be alright on a Friday night, now it’s shit. Real shit. You should be ashamed!”
“Listen, lads,” said Morty, tapping the tips of his fetlocks against the bar counter, “I put up with a lot here; I’ve had ponies wipe shit on the walls in the bathroom. I’ve had ponies stand up and take a piss on my counter, and I’ve seen an Earth pony get stabbed with a unicorn’s horn. I’ve more than earned the right to not have lip from the likes of you. If you don’t like the bar, I can gladly toss you three out into the alley?”
Shady Daze leaned over the bar and blocked Rumble from Morty with his body.“He’s sorry,” said Shady. “Right, Rumble?”
Rumble grunted.
“Buncha’ tossers,” Morty groaned as he walked away.
Shady Daze turned to Rumble, “What was that about?”
“It’s this place, Shady!” Rumble grunted, “It’s killing my buzz. We’ve been here for, like, an hour and nothing worth shaking Button’s cock at has walked through that door!”
Just then the door to the pub opened with the sound of a bell chime. Rumble snapped his head to see the new arrival’s and his eyes grew wide and hungry. A smile creased across his lips.
“Do you believe in karmic justice?” he asked, “Because, look who’s platonic slumber buddy and her two single, sexy friends just walked in?”
Shady Daze and Button Mash turned their heads.
Standing in the doorway were three mares, just as Rumble had promised. Peppermint Twist, Dinky Doo and Archer, all smiling, searched the bar with their eyes.
Twist had aged just as Rumble, Shady and Button had. She’d grown up and evolved into a cultured and refined young lady of taste and class; she’d cropped her mane short, traded in her box frame glasses for a slicker pair of Oatley lenses and, thanks to speech therapy, no longer talked with the same lisp and stutter she once had.
Her body too had developed, no longer was she short or stocky, instead, she stood the same height as Flitter and Cloudchaser and carried herself with just as much elegance and dignity. She was shapely — a few pounds past ‘fit’ — but not in any way that made her unappealing to the eye.
Dinky, too had grown into herself; she wore her blond mane long and straight, combed behind her ears and held in place with a butterfly hair clip. She was taller than Twist and thinner. Not quite curvy, or buxom, she had a more classic sense of beauty to her.
Finally, rounding out the three, was Archer the pegasus. She wore her royal blue mane short and wild, but not unkempt. A proper length with a respectable look to it. Her body was fit, narrow and athletic. Reasonably muscular legs and thighs, thinner waist and a flat rear.
Those were the girls.
Twist wore a black button up petticoat. Archer a moss green hooded sweater -- with the hood over her head and Dinky had a light blue sweater pulled over her chest.
When Twist saw Shady Daze she smiled and waved towards him.
“I wonder what they’re doing here?” asked Button Mash, “It doesn’t seem like the kind of place they’d go on a Friday night.”
“They probably just got lost on their way to a gangbang.” said Rumble.
Shady Daze slapped Rumble hard on the shoulder.
“First off; that was totally uncalled for, Rumble!” said Shady, “And secondly: can you not talk about my ex and her friends like they’re something you’d lure into your fucking dungeon after a party?”
“Look at you standing up for your ex of the wrong sex,” Rumble grinned, “When are you guys getting back together, already?”
“You’re a dick,” said Shady Daze, “And because you’re a dick, I’m going to go over there, say ‘hello’ to the girls and then tell them that both of you have taken a vow of celibacy.”
“Whoa, what did I do?” said Button Mash.
“Yeah, yeah.” Rumble said, waving Shady away. “We’ll both be right here if you need any moral support to deal with your backwards sexual identity crises.”
With that, Shady Daze took the last sip from his Bloody Maree, pushed himself out of his bar stool and made his way towards Twist, Dinky and Archer.
***
“Hello, Shady.” greeted Dinky, with cheer in her voice. A soft, dainty little flush spread up her cheeks, and she smiled warmly to greet Shady Daze.
The girls, and solo stallion, stood a few steps from the doorway all together.
“Hey, Dinky,” Shady greeted back with a polite and courteous head nod towards her, “Archer,” another head nod to the pegasus, “Twist.” a final nod to his ex-girlfriend.
All three of the girls smiled back at him.
“What are three upstanding tax paying citizens like yourselves doing in a dive bar like this?”
Archer snorted, “Is that really what you’re coming to bat with, Shady?”
“Hey, I’m a little rusty when it comes to talking to your kind.” He smirked and scratched the back of his neck, “Go easy on me?”
Archer chuckled.
“But, really, what are you guys doing here?” He asked, “I mean, this place is sort of… sketchy.”
“I think we can handle it, Shady.” Archer grinned, “But, if any of these sad old drunks decide to hit on us, maybe we could throw you at them as a distraction or something? You’re into that, right?”
“You’re exceptionally peppy tonight, Archer” Shady grunted. “What gives?”
“Just making conversation.” she said cheerfully.
Twist and Dinky rolled their eyes. This was Archer’s way; she wasn’t one for rude assertions or back-hoofed compliments, her familiarity and friendliness came out in self-assured confidence and pride.
“Right.” Shady nodded. “You still didn’t answer the question, though?”
“Oh, we just stopped in for a drink.” answered Twist, smiling at Shady. “We’re trying to get to Diamond Tiara’s house, but, she’s not having ponies over until seven, and this is the only place that serves a half decent, affordable, Crystal Island Iced Tea in Ponyville.”
“Diamond Tiara’s?” Shady asked, cocking his jaw to the right, “Doesn’t she, like, hate everyone who’s name isn’t ‘Silver Spoon’? Isn’t that her thing?”
“I know, it’s so weird!” Archer said, “The last few weeks she’s been, like, a totally different pony. She actually told me I looked nice the other day. And then, today in algebra, she handed Twist this note that said she was having Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo over for a shindig at her place, and asked us if we could come. It’s trippy.”
“Yeah,” said Dinky. “I’ve never even had a conversation with her before today, now, out of nowhere, she wants us all to be best friends?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing crazy. It’s probably just the end of days.” Shady Daze grinned, “Which would suck, I finally found a mane-stylist I get along with.”
“Wow,” Archer said, “You’ve really taken to that whole gay thing, haven’t you?”
Shady Daze’s cheeks turned red and he scratched his neck a little harder.
It was only in the past few months that Shady Daze had come to be known as irresistibly attracted to stallions to all of Ponyville. He was fine with it, as were most ponies — whose names weren’t Brolly. Still, the experience of having his recently discovered sexuality used against him — however lightly and good natured as it was intended — from anyone who wasn’t Rumble was still an experience he had yet to get comfortable with. In time, he hoped, he could take lighthearted stabs at his same-sex attraction more lightly.
Scratching his neck once more, he grinned back at Archer, if only to assure her he wasn’t in fact disgustingly offended by her quips.
“Listen,” he said, “I don’t think you guys should go to Diamond Tiara’s place tonight.”
“Why not?” asked Twist.
“I dunno, it feels wrong to me. She’s-” He stopped his sentence and swallowed. “She doesn’t just do nice things for ponies. There’s gonna be a catch somewhere.”
“Maybe she’s evolving?” said Dinky, retrospectively. “She has been hanging out with Sweetie Belle, Applebloom and Scootaloo a lot lately. Maybe they’re teaching her how to be decent?”
“More like she’s just trying to gain leverage on you guys for some kind of heinous rumor,” said Shady, “Remember that time Button Mash got a hernia and had to go to the hospital? She told everyone at school that he was having a Doctor Colossus action figure surgically removed from his ass.”
Archer snickered, Dinky hardly cracked a smile and Twist turned her head away to hide her cheeky grin.
“Or, how about the time she started telling everyone that Snips and Snails held ‘Mutual Masturbation Mondays’ in the school bathrooms?”
Again, Archer was the only one to snicker. Twist’s head was still turned away, so Shady couldn’t tell if she recalled this memory with humor or detest. Although, it was Dinky — who wore a frown long across her pink face — that looked to take the most offense to this statement. She raised a hoof into the air and scratched the underside of her chin.
“What about what she did to you?” Dinky asked.
Shady Daze bit his lower lip. “Yeah, there’s that too…”
"That, um, wasn't really funny..." said Archer slowly, fidgiting on the spot. Her ears fell, her lower lip came up over her upper one and she sighed.
There was no reason now for any of the four to chuckle.
"No, it wasn’t." said Twist, sternly. “It was mean and absolutely uncalled for…”
Shady Daze fell silent, recalling — rather unhappily — the time he’d been made a victim of one of Diamond Tiara’s rumors. Sensing his hesitation, Twist put her hoof on his shoulder, stroked the muscles in his leg gently and smiled. He smiled back.
"Why don't you guys have a drink with us before you make any serious decisions about tonight?" Shady offered, changing the subject. "It's just me, Rumble and Button Mash. I promise I’ll keep Rumble on his best behavior.”
"Button Mash is here?" Dinky asked, staring past Shady's shoulder towards the colt in question, who was once again spinning around aimlessly in his bar stool.
“Yeah,” said Shady Daze, “It’s his birthday, so Rumble and I thought we’d take him out for a few drinks. It’s nothing crazy.”
“Girls night out, eh, Shady?” Archer laughed, prodding Shady on the belly with her hoof.
“Something like that...”
“I guess we could stay for a few drinks?” suggested Twist, staring at Dinky and Archer. “We were going to go to a Care-Okay bar, but, we can do that after. That’s not a problem, right?”
Both girls shook their heads.
“Cool, cool,” said Shady, “I’ll go tell Rumble and Button. You guys wanna grab a table?”
Twist nodded her head and then the two parties split way; Shady Daze trotting towards the bar, Twist, Dinky and Archer making their way through a crowd towards a quieter corner of the room where a table sat alone and unattended.