//------------------------------// // A Dork, A Girl, And Two Headless Horses Between Them // Story: Colts // by Guy_Incognito //------------------------------// A Dork, A Girl, And Two Headless Horses Between Them “Hey, Button?” The colt in question lifted his eyes from watching the volume of beer in his pint glass shrink with each gulp he took, then stared at Archer, who had posed the question. “Yeah-huh?” “What’s with that totally goober sweater you’re wearing?” He stared down at his chest, frowned, then stared around the room; he met eyes first with Dinky. Hers were soft, approachable, but still with a sense of playfulness to them. He turned to Archer, whose eyes were hard and hungry, then at Rumble, who was grinning. “Well, uh… it’s… um… ironic, you see.” Button Mash mumbled into his pint glass, then swallowed another mouthful of beer. “What’s ironic about it?” Dinky asked. “Oh, well… uh…” he stuttered. He could feel it; small beads of sweat starting to form along with the growing fear in him that made his heart race in his chest. His mane felt damp, his forehead slick and wet. He inhaled a breath of air, patted his chest, then looked over at Rumble. He gave the pegasus a pleading look; one which — hopefully — would tell his friend that he needed something said to distract the group. Rumble smiled, “Yeah, Button. What’s with the get-up?” he asked, arching up an eyebrow and grinning with his signature, shit-eating smirk. “And why is it such a faggy shade of pink?” What a butthole. “Er, well, um…. it’s pink, because, uh,” he mumbled. Impulses and neurons fired away in his brain. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, clouded by the drunk he was on. “It’s… to… raise awareness for the cure for the Feather Flu. You know, they use pink as their ‘colour’, or whatever...” “Why does it say ‘Equestria’s Coolest Grandson’?” asked Archer. “Well, that’s just because… um my…. grandma heads up a ‘Feather Flu Awareness’ committee, so the, uh, other volunteers who work with her thought it would be nice to knit that on for me. She’s, um, eccentric like that.” He was lying. Never once in his life could Button Mash imagine his grandmother even considered the notion of doing charity work. She seemed to quite enjoy her retirement on her beachfront home on the coast, living on a diet of Maremosas and menthols. Furthermore, aside from a few school projects, outings and field trips, Button Mash had never once worked — or volunteered — so much as a day in his life. This he decided not to share with present company. “And what’s ironic about that?” The pairs of eyes still blinking at him were growing bolder and more curious. Similarily, the dampness he thought once to be just a fear was making itself even more present and real. He could feel it; a terrible bout of the fear sweats were coming on. Quite soon his stomach would tighten, his hooves would start trembling and then the stinky, salty mess of water would come out of him and there would be no going back. He took another sip of beer and felt himself dance his fetlocks against the tabletop. “What?” he asked. “I said,” repeated Archer, “What’s ironic about wearing a ‘Feather Flu’ hoodie, knit by your Grandma’s volunteer program?” “Uh… well, I’d say it was ironic because, er, I…” His brain ceased to work in conjunction with his mouth and he found himself mumbling a sentence of unintelligible gibberish to the table which sounded awfully close to “I think… which is to say… ‘ironic’…. is a strong word… And, also, you might be using it out of context? Besides... who ever said I said it was ironic, really?” He was panting now. Heaving almost. “It looks nice,” said Dinky, smiling softly towards him, “It’s a bit too big, and it’s definitely goofy looking, but you make it work.” She said this and reached her steady left hoof over to his trembling right one. Hers touched his, then she rubbed the fur of his leg with her fetlock. A high pitched, whine — a few octaves higher than a newborn kitten — came out of his mouth before he even had time to be embarrassed by it. Three pairs of eyes stared blankly at him. The dampness in his coat returned, stronger than before. He could almost smell the sweat he must have been oozing buckets of from his pores, and, fearful that if he could, it just so might be that the girls would as well. Button Mash decided to deal with it. “Oh geez,” he groaned, “Listen, um, I… am going to grab a drink… and… will be leaving, now, for a few minutes… to do that thing I said I was going to do…” He had a plan; make it to the bathroom, pray to Celestia that no one but him was inside, wash himself clean and then casually stroll out. It was elegant in it’s simplicity. No one would suspect a thing if he pulled it off right, and then after a few deep breaths, and following along with the most basic steps of Miss Pinkie Pie’s ‘Early Morning Stress Reducing Party Pony Work-Out’, he could strut out of the bathroom without a single pony in the bar any the wiser. “I’ll come with you,” said Dinky, “I still owe you a birthday drink after all.” She smiled. She had such a pretty smile, Button noted. Teeth the colour of snow or porcelain. All of them devoid of any imperfections. Cheeks that ended in simply divine dimples that looked like little pitches in her fur. Dinky Do was a very pretty pony, Button Mash decided. “Oh, er, um…” Button Mash stammered out, stringing together sounds that made up borderline intangible phrases, and then firing them out rapid succession. He stopped, then stared up at Dinky once more. “Sure.” As her smile lifted higher up her face, and she ever-so-politely lifted herself up and out of her chair, Button Mash came to find that his fear of mares, and their infinite judgements of his character were deeply unfounded in any reality. If Dinky wanted to buy him a drink it meant that she wanted to spend time with him. If Dinky wanted to spend time with him, it probably meant he was less of a pathetic, dweeb than he’d been self-conditioned to believe. If he wasn’t as much of a pathetic dweeb, then, maybe, just maybe, he stood a chance at having a polite conversation with a girl that night. He was okay with this. Before he left with Dinky in tow, Button Mash spun his head towards the table and caught a fleeting glimpse of Archer, and Rumble, leering at him like a pair of jackals. The thought bothered him only slightly. Through the speakers over their, The Dirty Fetlocks were singing ‘Shipping Up To Trottingham.’, Dinky Doo wanted to buy him a drink, Shady Daze and Twist were stuck in limbo, and, for the first time he could rightfully remember, things were looking up for Button Mash. And then Button Mash and Dinky were gone. Twist and Shady Daze were still outside on the porch, sucking cancer and playing catch up. This left two pegasi alone at the table — Archer and Rumble. Rumble stared at Archer, Archer at Rumble. Rumble gripped his beer by the rim and took a sip. Archer took a drink from her Whiskey Sour. Nothing was said between them. This went on for what could have been eons, until Rumble, ever the gentlecolt, decided to say something of weighted, intellectual value. “My brother had the feather flu once,” he said, “I think I was eight or nine at the time. I remember he was sick with it for a few weeks. And, Cloudkicker used to come over to make sure he was doing alright. Actually, that’s when they got together... I think.” “My sister had it too,” Archer said. “All she did was puke, cry and scream at my mom. So, really, it was just business as usual.” Archer’s grin to Rumble was cheeky and full mouthed, displaying with wanton regard two rows of pearl coloured teeth to the male pegasus. Rumble responded in jest; he raised his glass in the air, invitingly, and Archer met his with the mouth of her own. The glasses met and clinked. “I think Button might have a hard on the size of a baby carrot for Dinky,” said Rumble before taking another drink from his glass. He swallowed and then set the glass down. “What are your thoughts?” “That wouldn’t really bother me,” said Archer, “Dinky talks about Button Mash’s ‘cute’ butt so often when we get together I almost want them to hook up. At least then she’ll shut up about him. Besides, I think she could do a lot worse.” “Most definitely. Button’s a stand up fellow… when he’s not being socially retarded,” Rumble laughed, leaned forward until his chest hit the table and his face was parallel to Archer’s. He raised up one eyebrow and smiled, “What about you, Archer? You up for a poke?” “Please, Rumble,” Archer laughed, escaping from his gaze and leaning back in her seat, “I might not have all the upper class sensibilities of Silver Spoon or Diamond Tiara, but I definitely have enough dignity left to turn down a chance to watch you do push ups on top of me for twenty seconds and then cry yourself to sleep.” “Really, now?” Rumble mused. “Cause, I could put ‘Equestrian Rhapsody’ on the jukebox, and…” “You are so funny, Rumble,” she droned, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, like you’ve never made a mule out of yourself when you were drunk.” “Nope,” Rumble shook his head, “Not even once.” “How about the time you and Shady both showed up to fourth period English class absolutely staggered?” “We had a couple of drinks,” grunted Rumble, “What’s so bad about that?” “Oh, let’s play this game,” Archer grinned, “How about the fact that you pissed yourself in front of the class when you were stumbling your way through your oral presentation on ‘Daring Do and The Temples of Syrinx’? Or, how about the fact that you called Principal Cheerilee ‘Mommy’?” Archer leaned back in her seat, crossed her hooves behind her head and found inner zen at the frown forming long across Rumble’s face. “That’s check and mate, I’d say.” “Aww, for fucks sakes,” Rumble groaned, “That was the fifth grade, Archer! Isn’t there, like, a statue of limitations on taking cracks about me for something like that? That’s, like, ‘inadmissible evidence’.” “Ponies don’t forget that kind of stuff, Rumble.” Archer reminded. Rolling his eyes, Rumble finished his beer then slammed the empty glass on the table. A gust of cold wind rolled through the bar and Archer and Rumble took a moment away from trading jests and insults to stare towards the source; Shady Daze held the door to the porch open for Twist, who thanked him with an elegant, overdramatic bow of her head. Smiling, Shady shut the door behind her and the two trotted the length of the bar until they found their seat again beside Archer and Rumble, respectively. “Welcome back,” said Archer, smiling towards Twist, “Hope all that cancer was worth it?” “Yeah,” said Rumble, “You know how bad those things are for you? They make ‘em with pesticides, and they’re full of carcona… carcono… car-cee-no-ge...” “Sound it out, Rumble.” Shady grinned. “Cancer!” Rumble spat. “Those things are filled with cancer!” “Good job, Rumble.” Twist said, smiling towards the colt, “Way to pay attention to at least one of Princess Twilight’s mandatory Equestria-wide lectures on ‘The Importance of Good Health’.” “Shut up,” Rumble groaned. Snickers and giggles came from the three ponies at the table who weren’t Rumble, while the offended colt stayed silent. When the laughter died down, all four ponies turned towards the two empty seats, then towards the bar where the bodies of the vacant seats stood. “She’s finally making her move?” Twist asked. Archer nodded and then Twist smiled, “Good for her.” Shady Daze turned away from the bar, cocked his head to the side and stared at Twist with two raised eyebrows, “Dinky likes Button?” “Mhmm,” Twist hummed. “It’s been like this for a while, hasn’t it?” Archer nodded her head. “Yup,” she said, “As far as I’m concerned she’s in good hooves with him. He might be a bit of a goof, but he certainly lacks the Down’s Syndrome vibe I get from some of the ponies he calls friends.” She tilted her head towards Rumble and winked. “Hey, Archer,” said Rumble, “Don’t you have some offs to fuck?” “Oh, good one, Rumble,” Archer said. “Don’t you have an extra chromosome you should be trying to get rid of?” Another round of snickers and giggles came from Shady, Twist and Archer, while Rumble groaned and grunted. He bowed his head to the table in defeat, then stared back towards Button Mash and Dinky. “So, like, how long has this been a thing?” Shady asked. “Oh, gosh,” said Twist, “Three or four weeks, at least. I think it started when he stopped wearing that stupid propellor beanie to school.” “Yeah, it was definitely around that time.” said Archer. “Honestly, all joking aside, I think it’s kind of cute actually. I mean, I can’t see Button Mash being a bad influence on Dinky. With how nervous he gets around girls, it’s not like she’s going to wind up pregnant anytime soon.” Shady Daze grinned. “Are you kidding? The way Button’s mom raised him, I’d be surprised if he didn’t wait until they were married to go in for a peck on the cheek.” More muffled laughter from the table. This time even Rumble’s dampened spirits lifted and he snickered along with the crowd who’d just recently made him their victim. He lifted his head from the table, grinned towards Button Mash and Dinky Doo, then turned back towards the three ponies who sat with him. “Button’s a solid guy,” he said, “I think this’ll work out.” “That’s shockingly kind of you, Rumble,” said Twist. “What’s the catch?” “No catch,” said Rumble, “Crusader’s honor. If Dinky Doo can, in any way, shape, or form help Button Mash from becoming the forty year old virgin, I’m all for them getting together.” “Wow, Rumble,” Archer sighed. “You either have a soft spot buried somewhere beneath all that macho-chauvinist bullshit, or you’re really drunk tonight?” Rumble shrugged his shoulders, “Meh,” he grunted, “I’d say I’m at a six out of ten. Maybe a seven. ‘Sides, I think Dinky’s pretty cute for a soft spoken, nerdy, bookworm.” He paused and turned towards Archer; his eyes glazed and dangerous, “I bet she’s freaky inbetween the sheets?” Archer slapped her hoof against his cheek and Rumble’s head spun. Unphased, he re-formed his shit-eating grin and once more aimed it at Archer. “Bad touch!” he shrieked. “Bad touch!” Archer and Twist groaned. Rumble picked up his smile, clapped his hooves together then pressed them flat onto the table. Shady Daze still had a few sips of his beer left, Twist half of a highball glass of her Crystal Island Iced Tea and Archer had made serious headway on her second Whiskey Sour of the night. Noticing no pony racing to finish their drinks, Rumble casually raised his hoof and hooked it around Shady Daze’s glass of beer, sneaking it to his lips and finishing off what Shady Daze hadn’t. “So, then,” he said after he’d wiped froth from his mouth with the backside of his left hoof, “Who’s for kicking back, ordering another round and watching this Equestrian drama unfold?” *** At the plain and boring looking bar counter, Button Mash heaved his heavy body into a stool, lay his head flat against the hardwood and sighed in anguish. He’d been doing alright — not fantastic, but far from awful — so far that night in dealing with his commitment to the pub crawl. He’d taken drinks, and shots, and all in good fun, without ever giving half a mind to the concern that, eventually, at some point, it was all going to catch up to him. And, here came that moment now. His stomach growled and his head felt heavy. A gentle prodding of a hoof into the fur of his left shoulder had Button Mash spinning his head towards the source; Dinky Doo. She stared at him with the same withdrawn smile as every other time he’d seen her that night, though now there was concern in her her eyes. “Are you alright, Button?” she asked in a voice so soft and so lovely. “Mhmmm,” he moaned back to her. “Just a bit light headed is all.” “How much have you had to drink tonight?” “Not much,” he lied. “A few beers here, a little bit of some vodka Rumble had. That’s it, really.” Yes, it was a lie. But, Dinky didn’t need to know about his triumph over the forces of sobriety, or about his accomplishment of topping his personal best for most ounces of alcohol consumed in a night. Little white lies were what kept ponies happy. Dinky tilted her head to the side and stared — quizzically — towards the pony, “Are you sure you still want me to buy you a drink?” He could tell that one more drink might become his last of the night, but, here was Dinky Doo, pretty, smiling and so wonderfully nice, offering what no one else that night had been kind enough to do; initiate him into the world of young-adulthood by way of purchasing him his celebratory birthday drink. It seemed rude to turn her down. “Oh…” he said, and smiled meekly. “Yes, please.” Dinky smiled too. She threw her hoof in the air and waved it towards Morty, who nodded his head. Button Mash tried to think of a drink that was both masculine enough to impress Dinky, and sensibly non-alcoholic and fruity enough to leave his stomach at peace. “Can we get,” Dinky said, then turned towards Button Mash, “Two…” What would Rumble drink? What would Shady? What did a pony without the guts, bravado, wit, charm and iron-lined stomach that both Shady and Rumble seemed to have drink? “Er, uh,” he mumbled. Morty’s stone-faced glare stabbed at his self esteem. The look on his face was challenging. No doubt in revenge for Rumble’s earlier antics, as if, somehow, in someway, Rumble’s poor personality and abrasive actions were encouraged by Button Mash. Dinky was staring at him too. “Headless Horses.” The words came out of his mouth before he realized the danger he was in for having said them. Gone was the challenging eye from Morty, in it’s place a grin which could only properly be described as ‘Respect’. Dinky looked worried. “Are, um, are you sure that’s what you’d like to drink?” she asked. Button Mash looked at her, then Morty, then down at his hooves. He lifted his head and smiled at Dinky. “Yeah.” “Comin’ right up,” said Morty. Morty fixed the drinks. Button Mash stared at Dinky and Dinky stared right back at Button Mash. He noticed, now, that her smile was infectious. Two square glasses of liquid the colour of rain water collected in a drainpipe were placed before himself and Dinky.Button Mash stared at his murky reflection in the glass, tapped it once, watched the ripples and took in a breath of air. The smell that struck his nostrils was strong and not unlike the industrial strength chemicals that the janitor used to clean the hallways at school. This did not bode well for Button Mash. His hesitation was swept away the moment he watched Dinky Doo make herself comfortable in the seat beside his, scoop her glass of — what he could only imagine to be a double of bleach. Neat. — towards her and levitate it into the air with the magic from the horn centred on her head. He was in for the long haul, he realized. He swallowed a lump in his throat, reached forward with a trembling hoof and gripped the glass. “Heh,” he laughed, running his right hoof through his mane, stopping at the back of his neck then scratching feverously. “Bottoms up?” Dinky’s smile back at him was soft and not entirely confident. “Yeah,” she said, softly, “Bottom’s up.” And then they took their shots, and nothing went wrong. No waterfall of projectile vomit came out quite like he’d expected. No declaration of war was called in his stomach. In fact, if anything, the drink tasted quite good. Not at all like the fire burning sensation he’d imagined. This made him comfortable. A fire pulsed through his veins and, this time, when he stared at Dinky he found reason to speak. He wanted to know Dinky Doo, he’d decided that almost an hour ago, but only now found the strength to voice his desires. “Dinky,” he said, smiling from ear to ear, “Can I ask you something?” She nodded her head and smiled. “Sure.” “What’s it like… being a unicorn?” The smile she wore fell to form a contemplative grin and she scratched the underside of her chin. “Um,” “Because, well, I’ve always been an Earth pony,” he explained, “And, I don’t know… I’ve always been curious to know, I guess?” A bashful ghost of a grin spread along the left side of Dinky’s mouth. “Really?” Button Mash nodded without restraint, “Yeah,” he said, “Magic seems, like, really, really, really cool… Is it?” The grin on her left spread up to the right of her face. “Yeah,” she said, “It really is.” She spun herself on the stool to face him, lay her left hoof flat against the bar and placed her right on top of his knee. “I…” Dinky began, then flush spread across her cheeks and she shook her head, “This is… gosh… Maybe I’ve had a bit too much to drink. This is going to sound silly.” “No, no,” Button said, “Go on.” “I… Well…” She stopped and frowned, then shook her head. “You know how my mom is, right?” Button Mash had to stop and ponder the question; he knew two things about Miss Hooves. That she worked for the Equestrian Postal Service, and that she had very unfortunate luck. He wasn’t sure, which — if either — of these traits Dinky was talking about. “Kind of,” he said, giving a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve seen her in town, and, I know that she always orders muffins from Sugarcube Corner in boxes of twelve…” “Yeah,” said Dinky, softly. “Well, um, what I meant was… she’s a pegasus. Which isn’t a problem, but, well, with me being a unicorn, and her not, I found that…” Dinky paused again and stared longingly into the bottom of her glass. For whichever reason, Button Mash found the strength and desire in him to touch her on the shoulder and rub against fur. “It’s okay,” She turned to him and smiled. “Thanks, Button.” She readjusted herself in her seat and straightened her back. She danced her hooves on the countertop, leaned left, right, and then stopped fidgeting and spoke again. “I love my mom,” she announced, “I do. She’s… well, she’s the only mom I’ve ever had, but, she means the world to me. But, when I was younger, and with her being a pegasus and me a unicorn, I wasn’t quite as close to her as I am now.” “I see,” said Button Mash. “I used to really like borrowing books about magic from the library when Miss… Er, I suppose, it’s Princess Sparkle now. Isn’t it?” Button nodded.“Yeah,” he said. “How weird is that?” “Oh, I know!” Dinky erupted. “I mean, I used to take weekend classes with her and it seems like just yesterday, now, well, she’s in Canterlot, and she’s a princess!” Button Mash blinked. “You… used to take weekend classes with Princess Sparkle?” Dinky’s face flushed again and she rubbed her thighs together. “Well… Yeah,” she said, “I was trying to learn as much about magic, and unicorn heritage, as I could. And, um, Princess Sparkle, back before she was a princess, of course, was always so glad to teach anyone about anything-” Button Mash chuckled. “-And.” Dinky stopped abruptly to stare on at Button, laughing into his hoof, avoiding making eye contact with him. “Hey!” He turned back to her, swallowed, then laughed a tiny giggle. “I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s just… it’s funny.” Dinky arched an eyebrow towards him. “What is?” “Well, I remember when she was just, regular old, Twilight Sparkle too,” he said, “Like, back when she did all kinds of goofy things. Back when we were kids.” Dinky giggled, “She did do goofy things, didn’t she?” Button nodded his head. “Remember when that weird magician came into town; Twinkie? Twistie? Twinklie? Oh heck, what was her name?” “Trixie,” Dinky said, “The Great and Powerful, even.” “Yeah!” shouted Button Mash, “When Trixie came in, and she got Snips and Snails to work for her, and then that giant space-bear thing attacked the town?” Dinky nodded, laughed, and then raised her hoof, pointed it towards her glass, and then Button’s — silently begging Morty for a refill. Morty came, collected their empty glasses, filled two more and set them just before the quietly conversing ponies. “I do remember that,” Dinky said, “And, of course, Princess Sparkle saved the day.” “Yup,” said Button. “Things were always pretty crazy when she lived here.” “Mhmm,” Both ponies, during the moment of silence, reached for their glasses and sipped quietly from their drinks. What started as a soft smile from Dinky, grew to be a proud and goofy grin on Button Mash’s face, which went mirrored by Dinky. “What kind of Manga do you read?” he found himself asking. Without Rumble’s influence, he imagined that unless Dinky Doo were to suddenly stop him, he might actually enjoy a conversation about the things which he enjoyed and not have to hear about how they were ‘nerdy, faggy, lame’ or otherwise ‘unbecoming’ for a colt of his age to partake in. He was more than thrilled that Rumble wasn’t there in that moment. “Quite a bit,” Dinky said. “Fullmetal Pegasus, Seven Pegasi, Astro-Colt.” “Really?” Dinky nodded. “I’ve read a few comics too; The Trotting Dead is pretty good.” “Yeah,” said Button, “I heard Flank Darabont wants to turn it into a movie.” “I’m sure it’ll be awful,” Dinky said with a grin, “Comics to movie adaptations are always terrible. Just look at what they did with Watchmane.” Button Mash cracked his mouth open to speak, took a moment of pause and instead opted to sip from his glass instead. When he was finished, and another glass was empty, he set it down on the counter and, throwing caution to the wind, spoke his mind. “How are you so cool, Dinky?” Dinky turned to him with a stunned expression. “I’m cool?” “Yeah,” he said, “Like, I don’t know any other girl in the entire town who’s ever even heard of half of those comics. And you’re sitting here, with me, talking about them.” “Oh, uh... Thanks, Button,” said Dinky, softly. Her voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I mean, I guess it’s different with Shady and Rumble,” Button explained, stopping for a moment to sip from his glass, “Like, we get together a lot. But, Rumble says that books about stallions wearing tights are ‘for fags’, and, all Shady reads is ‘classic literature’ about guys in boats hunting giant whales and old Freak Power comics.” “I totally get that,” she said. “I had to promise to ref half a season’s worth of intramural hoofball games just to get Archer to come to last year’s Comet-Con with Twist and I...” “You went to Comet-Con last year?” Button Mash shouted, as his eyebrows rode the height of his forehead and his eyes bulged. His pupils grew twice their size. The eyes of patrons in the bar — especially those of their mutual friends — fell onto the scene Button Mash was quick to create. The colt, unabashed and unashamed, waved his hooves wildly in excitement. Dinky bowed her head and hunched into herself. Shrinking in her seat. “Yeah…” she hushed under her breath. Button Mash, who took no social cues when they were given, continued to rant and rave. “No way!” he shouted, “Dinky, I was there too! I didn’t see you, though? Were you dressed up, or… ?” Dinky locked her eyes on the tiles of the floor and kicked her legs against each other. “Yeah, I… was a bit… incognito,” she said, softly. “I, uh, I went as Mare Do Well.” “That was you?” By this point, it was clear that there was no end the the heights that an excited Button Mash could reach. Social grace and compassion for keeping their private conversation exactly that were disregarded, and still, Dinky Doo found it just the tiniest bit humbling: staring at the colt beside her, with the wild and hungry eyes, talking — loudly and in the strongest sense of love for the craft as he could muster. She smiled as she realized he was still touching her, and her him. “Dinky,” said Button Mash. “You had the best costume there! It was so awesome! I mean, you nailed the look, and, like, you had the perfect body to pull it off. Not to mention it was one hundred percent accurate too! Where did you buy it?” “I, um… I made it, actually.” Dinky said, “Sweetie Belle taught me how to use her sister’s sewing machine, and after that it was just a lot of luck. Rarity accidently placed a double order on nylon — which I used for the body, and let me use some of the leftover felt she had from an order to Canterlot — that I used for the hooves. And… well, the rest was just a lot of hard work.” “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Button Mash said, nodding his head. “Wait… didn’t you take home the gold for ‘Most Accurate Costume’ ?” “Silver,” Dinky corrected. Button Mash leaned against the counter and pressed his hooves into his cheeks, pushing up the fur and flesh. “That’s-so-awesome,” A wry, playful, smirk snuck its way up and across Dinky’s lips. From the corner of her eyes she watched the ever-excitable colt, with all of his boundless joy and joviality, stare with wide-eyed wonder at her. Silly thoughts filled her head and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She sipped the last few drops of her latest drink from the glass and into her mouth, then an ice cube, and finally decided it best to order herself, and Button, another. If only for the purely selfish reason of keeping him here with her, instead of there, away, with Rumble, Archer, Twist and Shady Daze. *** “Well, I’ll be a horse’s cock,” Rumble said, leaning back in his chair and throwing his left leg along the back of Archer’s. He turned to Shady and grinned something fierce. “Our little boy’s all grown up.” Collectively, all four ponies had been watching — observing, more so. And, definitely not spying, or prying — the conversation between Dinky Doo and Button Mash for it’s entire length up and until that moment in time. Now, Button Mash was doubled up with what did appear to be some form of admiration — leaning his head on his hooves and staring with stupid puppy eyes — at Dinky, who was paying for another round of drinks for the two of them. “I’m just shocked he hasn’t sweat through that hoodie.” said Archer. Twist nodded and so did Shady Daze. “Yeah, it just goes to show,” said Rumble, “The dork spends enough time with the most drop-dead handsome, and undeniably suave stallion in all of Ponyville, and he picks up a few tricks. Now look at him! He’s a lady-killer!” “Rumble, please.” Shady Daze broke his silence with a laugh, then turned towards Rumble. “If Button really learned from your examples, Dinky would be filling out a restraining order and half the mares here tonight would be in line right behind her.” Rumble scrunched his nose and slid his eyebrows downwards along his forehead. His tongue popped out of his mouth, he blew a raspberry at his friend, then mouthed something which looked like it might have rhymed with ‘Truck’ and ‘Roo’. Shady Daze just laughed. Twist and Archer not long after him. “Fuck off, Shady.” Rumble groaned, “Shouldn’t you be strapping on your knee-pads before you try and find the fun side of, what I can only assume, is the least sexy glory-hole in all of Equestria they have in the bathroom here or something?” Shady Daze’s smile faltered, then fell. “Nice, Rumble,” Archer snapped, tapping the colt on the nose with her hoof, “Aren’t you two supposed to be friends?” “Hey, just cause I can dish it out twice as hard as I can take it, and, Shady’s fascination with male butts ‘n’ dangly bits makes him a big flaming target, doesn’t mean I don’t like him.” said Rumble, throwing a smile at Twist, “Besides, even if he were normal — like me — he’d still be getting second-prize when it comes to picking up mares. I’m the reigning champion of pounding vag.” “Yeah, and catching V.D., from what I’ve heard,” Archer interjected to a glare from Rumble. “Fuck off!” grumbled Rumble. “The both of ya’!” Rumble, by this point, had forgone any desire of containing the table’s conversation to a private experience. He was shouting, and in doing so, also drawing the attentions of stranger’s and towns-ponies alike. Berry Punch, Cranky Doodle and other townsfolk whose names escaped the minds of the four ponies at the table, drew their condemning eyes towards the table. There was a certain methodology to Rumble’s actions, and, justifiably, his reactions. He lived within the realm that all others existed, though, he found himself an alien to the thoughts and feelings of others. He was a stranger in a strange land when it came to understanding, and dealing with, emotions. Especially his own. This much Shady Daze had been aware of since the two were eight. Shady Daze kept this in mind when he made his next move. “Simmer down, Rumble.” he insisted, laughing and scratching at his neck. “Seriously. Turn the rage-gauge down a few notches. We’re just messing with you.” Rumble didn’t. “What? So, you can all rag on me, slander my good name and call me a homophobe when I make a few exceptionally witty jokes about Shady’s lust for cock, and that’s fine? But, I can’t get offended at you dicks for making fun of me and my sex life?” screeched Rumble, “Talk about double-fuckin’-standards!” “Rumble!” Shady snapped, “You’re acting like a fuckin’ queen right now! And that’s me saying that!” Rumble stood himself up with such speed and force that it wobbled the table and sent two of the empty glasses, and one of the half-empty ones, sliding across at Shady. “You would say that!” Rumble shrieked. “I am saying that!” Shady shouted back. Tension in the air. Twist, and Archer, hapless and innocent to what came next as they were, stared nervously at each other. Shady, meanwhile, sat leaned onto his hooves and staring straight at Rumble, waiting for someone, or something, to make a move. “Sit yer arse down y’ doss cunt!” came a shrill raspy cry to Rumble’s left. All eyes in the bar fell on Morty — the bartender, who on his face wore a look that betrayed the idea that he might have once, in kinder times, enjoyed the antics of the rambling pegasus. “If’n yer havin’ such a terrible time at my bar, p’haps you’d rather take yer’ sel’, an’ present company, to a lesser establishment? Might I recommend the drunk tank?” The second the grin spread across Rumble’s black lips, and that familiar, frightening, fire ignited in his eyes, Shady Daze realized that it was too late to hope for anyone else but he, himself, to fix this situation. This was a classic scenario; Shady Daze, the selfless hero, come to save the enigmatic Rumble from his better/worse judgement. He drank from his glass the last sips of beer that he’d ever have at The Toad in The Hole, pushed himself upwards in his seat so that he stood nose to nose with Rumble, and then did something he’d never have considered if the situation wasn’t quite as dire as it was now. He licked Rumble. His tongue, wet and tasting of beer, vodka and clamato, met the dry, warm and fuzzy fur of Rumble’s left cheek and, when it did, it quickly made a trip up to his ear — which twitched and cowered at the feel of warm, wet flesh. The bar went silent. For a few tense — but dumb — moments Rumble stood completely silent with a stupid look on his face. Then he blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. His chest lifted and fell. His eyebrows rose, and his eyes waded towards Shady Daze who stood before him. “Dude, what the fuck?” With a smile across his face, Shady Daze kicked the chair out from behind him. All was quiet and the familiar sense of calm surrender returned to The Toad in The Hole. “Let’s get out of here,” Shady Daze suggested, “I think we’ve worn out our welcome. Ten fold.” “Dude,” was all Rumble said, before blinking again. He touched a hoof to the wet streak on his cheek, pulled it away and blinked once more. “What. The. Fuck?” “Fine, stay here and get thrown in the drunk tank, Rumble,” Shady Daze said, excusing himself from the table. “I’m going, though…” Rumble looked left, right, then touched his cheek again. “The fuck just happened? “ Rumble stared around the room at all the ponies, and mules, the guys, girls and everything that fell in-between, who were all staring at him, wearing grins. He kicked his hoof against the ground, bowed his head and then followed after Shady in a nervous shuffle. He didn’t bother to stare back at Twist, or Archer, or anyone else for the matter. He just kept his head to the ground and his eyes on the floor. Shady stood by the door that was to be their exit point. Ever the proper little gentlecolt, he held the door open for the still dumbfounded Rumble. Through the corners of his eyes he gave Twist a look which, hopefully, had told her he was sorry for the way Rumble acted, but that somone had to make sure the colt stayed the path as clear of the fabled Ponyville drunk tank, and that, sadly, no pony was more capable than he himself. Twist seemed to get it, she offered back a sad, understanding pair of eyes to Shady, then trotted along after Archer as they made their way to the bar. *** Sitting in the barstool next to Dinky Doo, Button Mash couldn’t find the inner strength to speak. At the door, ready to leave were his two best friends, in the stool next to him a girl who enjoyed his company. Before him was a drink half finished, behind him the entourage that his present company kept. A dilemma the likes of which he’d never encountered once before in his young life presented itself to him that moment: on the one hoof he could leave with Rumble and Shady and continue on with his night. There were more than enough watering holes in Ponyville to stumble into next, and no lack of a good selection of mares who would maybe be interested in helping him on his quest for his first ever sexual encounter. On the other hoof, up until that very moment he’d really been enjoying his conversation with Dinky. It was moments like these that Button Mash wished he had more of a backbone to lean on. He wasn’t cut from the same cloth as either Rumble or Shady, for Rumble, getting shamed out of a bar and losing what little respect he’d earned that night from present company was all part of the game. For Shady, well, it only made sense that Shady would follow the path of fire and scorched earth Rumble carved out, trying his best to run damage control on the pegasus. To Button Mash, however, the only logic and reasoning he could find in making his decision came from a timeless adage bestowed on him by the genetically imprinted ‘Male Code of Honor’ he’d been born into... Bros Before Hos. If he didn’t leave with Rumble and Shady, he’d be throwing their night off. If he did, well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, and, besides, maybe he would run into Dinky again sometime that night? Hadn’t she, or Twist, or Archer said something themselves about leaving at some point? Where too? Ponyville wasn’t too big, and too heavily populated, that it wasn't impossible to imagine them meeting up again that night. Plus, worst case scenario, he could just sit beside her sometime at lunch and pick up where they left off. “Button, you comin’ or what?” It was Rumble asking, as he shuffled awkwardly in the doorway, still, focusing on the floor, not daring to meet eyes with anyone in the bar who’d just witnessed his masculinity’s unraveling. He kicked dirt and dust off the floorboards and grumbled under his breath. Button stared at Dinky again. “I… should probably go with them,” he said, noticing that his voice took on a shaky uneasiness. “Oh…” said Dinky, giving half of a smile. She tapped her hooves together and kicked them against the bars of stool. “Right… Right, yeah…” Button Mash pushed himself out of his seat and took a few steps forward. “Button, wait…” He stopped, spun around and watched Dinky loosen herself out of her chair, touch down on the bar-floor and trot towards him. When she reached him she threw her legs around his neck and hugged him to her until her chest and his touched. The weight of her body pressing up against his sweater tickled him beneath his fur. “Thanks for sharing a drink with me,” she spoke softly into his left ear, “Um, maybe I’ll see you around school, or something...?” “Yeah, yeah. For sure, Dinky,” he answered without any hesitation, “Have a good night, I guess...” She pulled off of him, took a few backwards paces and Button noticed that there was a crimson touch to her cheeks, which he found odd. She kicked the floor, scratched her neck and looked up at him. “Thank you.” she said, “Be safe tonight, okay?” “Mhmm,” he replied. “You too.” “C’mon Button, before Morty actually calls the guards on us.” “I’m coming, Rumble! Just gimme a second, okay?” Button Mash shouted back. “Coming,” Rumble chuckled, “Didja hear him, Shady? Button’s ‘Coming’...” “Yeah, I heard him.” Shady replied in an emotionless deadpan, “Turn six, okay?” “Bite me, cock-breath.” This was just the prelude to another mind-melting back-and-forth between Rumble and Shady Daze, and Button Mash realized it. He looked back towards Dinky — still smiling at him, kicking her hoof against the floor and looking shy and nervous. “I’ll see you later, Dinky,” he said, waving to the mare, then her friends. “You too, Archer and Twist.” “Later days, Button Mash.” said Archer. “Nice seeing you.” said Twist. “Take care of Shady for me, alright?” “Goodnight, Button,” said Dinky. “Be safe.” Button answered all of their demands, commands and good willed gestures with a polite, courteous, nod of his head, then took off in the direction of Shady and Rumble. The night was young and he was soused. He had his best friends and things were just starting to get going. He found it only a tiny bit curious that he stopped at the door to look back at Dinky — just to make sure she was okay — but said, and did, nothing about it. And then he was gone, chasing the bobbing tails and hind-parts of Rumble and Shady Daze as they took off into the night, all three waiting to see what fate, and fortune, had in store for them next.