Celestiphilia

by Dr Atlas


Let the games...Begin

“And the winner is...ugh...Mike, with a hundred and fifty to 3.”

“WOOOOO!” Stan, who had a sombrero on with sunglasses and a crate of beer tucked under his arm, stood on the table and raised a bottle in the air. “WOOOO, wooo...” Stan looked around the room, expecting others to cheer with him, but the whole room was silent, and the only one who wasn’t giving him a look of concern was Mike. “What?”

“Nice to see someone cheer for me.” Mike said.

Stan tossed the crate at Carl, who somehow caught it without any bottles dropping, and took his glasses off to reveal his drunk eyes. “I ain’t celebration’ on you Mr. Knight of the light, I’m cheerin’ for the real wiener of this game.” He snickered a bit and took a sip from his bottle of beer. “Hehe, wiener.”

Carl put the crate down and pulled him off the table. “Stan, I said that Mike won, you only scored three points.”

Stan put his glasses back on and chugged the rest of his drink before tossing it behind him, crashing other bottles in the process. “Now now Carl, we both know that I chugged the most *hick* drinks in this game.”

Shift and Lift shook their head. “That means you lost.” They said in unison.

Stan frowned. “But I-”

“Stan.” Carl said sternly. “First off, where did you get that hat and that pair of glasses? And second, what made you think that you had to get less points than him?!”

Stan tossed his hat and glasses at Lift, who decided to wear them, and crossed his arms. “Well one, I don’t know where I got them, and three, I thought this was tennis. Where you score less by getting the ball in the holes.” He snickered again, but he abruptly stopped once Carl smacked him.

“Stan, that’s golf.” Carl then realized he just hit him across the face; he looked down at his hoof in shock. Usually it was vice versa. He looked down at his hoof in shock. “D-did I just-”

“Same thing.” Stan waved his hoof in the air, not caring that his friend just struck him, and turned toward Mike. “So, what’s this next game that you have for me Mikey?”

Carl looked back at Stan and groaned. “Stan, maybe we should take a break”.

“Carl, we can’t just eat cake now, because the cake is a pie. Now Mr. Mikey Wikey, what is this next game?”

Mike was doing his best to control his anger at this bug, because he knew that once this was all over, he would be getting some very helpful hooves at this place. “The next game’s easy, you just need to throw things.”

“WOOOOOO!” Stan grabbed a bottle from the crate and threw it out the door. A screeching cat was heard in the distance. Stan put his hooves on his hips and held his head high. “Did I win?”

Carl facehoofed, Shift and Lift snickered, the ponies in the bar continued to look at him in silence, and Mike just smirked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“But I don’t like tarts.”

Mike ran up to Stan and yelled, “DARTS! I know you’re doin’ this just to tick me off.”

Stan just smiled. “I don’t like ticks either, they suck mud, and mud is toast.” Stan leaned on Carl after saying that and belched again. “I’m hungry. Carl, can you get me a deer to drink…”

Carl pushed him off and put a dart in his hoof. “Look Stan, this game is simple, just stand on this white line and throw this at the board over there.” Stan squinted his eyes at Carl’s hoof, then slowly looked at where it was pointing.

“Hu...What a weird cir*hick*cle.” Stan took the dart and and studied it carefully. “Why is it all pointy?”

Carl groaned. “So it can stick to the board.”

“Why don’t they just use glue?”

“Because that would make it harder to take out of the dartboard.”

Stan scratched his head with the dart and stepped on the line. “Dartboard? Why throw arrows at a board filled with food?”
Mike ground his teeth. “It’s a DARTBOARD! Not a tartboard!” He was getting sick and tired of Stan constantly pretending to not hear what everyone was saying, it was getting very annoying for him.

Stan’s ear stems lit up. “Tarts? Where?” He snickered and looked around rapidly, making others in the bar start to laugh, especially Shift and Lift.

Carl grabbed Stan and made him face the board. “Just throw it at the circle!” Carl yelled.

Stan squinted his eyes at the dartboard. “Which circle? There's like, five circling around the circle with circles inside the...circles. Its like...circleperspectingception…” Stan’s eyes were starting to close.

Mike finally lost his patience and yelled, “Just throw the dart!”

“Throw what?” Stan said drowsily as he threw the dart at the board and fell to the floor.

“Finally!” Mike yelled. “Now will you...let...me…” Everyone looked at the board in amazement. Lift lifted his glasses to make sure he was seeing it right. “How in Celestia’s mane?”

Stan grabbed Carl’s legs and slowly climbed up to his head to get his footing. “Am..am I a hot dog now?” Stan wobbled a bit and looked at the board to see that there were till five of them waving around each other, with a dart in the middle of it all. “Man...what’s with me getting holes in one with this, that doesn’t give me that many points”

“Stan…” Carl said. “Y-you got a bullseye.”

Stan tilted his head at his friend while he picked up two more darts from a nearby table. “I hit a bull in it’s eye...Ouch…” He turned around again, throwing the dart at the board. “Hey bull, are you alright?” He made another bullseye and grimaced. “Sorry I took out your other eye bull, though you were a circle with tarts.” He looked at Mike and frowned. “I’m just gonna get a deer while you win this one coach.” Stan walked past him and sat next to Shift, leaning on him and smiling. “So, do you come here often?”

Mike gulped and stepped up to the white line. “Come on now Mike, it’s been a while, but I’m sure you can-”        

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And the winner is Stan!”

The whole bar cheered as Shift and Lift raised a sleepy Stan into the air. Mike’s jaw was hung wide open, as was Carl’s.

Stan snorted a bit and looked around. “HU? What? D-did I won?”

Carl pushed Mike out of the way and flew up to his brothers. “Yes! You did, now we can get out of here and-”

“WAIT!” Mike walked up to them and squinted his eyes. Stan squinted back, but in a sleepy way. “It’s tied, so we still have one more game to play.”

Stan pulled his arms off of his older brother’s grip and stumbled over to Mike, falling right in front of him. “What is the next game, wait, wait...don’t tell me, let me buy a vowel first, does it rhyme with ducks, is it a type of cheese, will it be fun?”

Mike grabbed Stan and threw him over to a bar stool. “We’re gonna see just how strong your liver is at the end of it.” Mike smiled and walked behind the counter. Everyone started crowding around the two of them.

“Ten bit’s says the bugs gonna puke.” A pony in the bar whispered to Carl.

“Yeah sure, I’ll take you on that bet.” Carl smiled, knowing full well that Stan could still handle his beer.

Stan then puked behind the counter. Cries of disgust and some cheering filled the bar. Carl just sighed and handed his change to the pony.

“That was a technical foul!” Stan yelled as he grabbed an empty mug. “This time I will go on the train to victory and ride it suceshful town!” He tipped the mug to his lips before realizing it wasn’t filled with beer. He turned it upside down and put it on the table in sadness.

“Great,” Carl said to himself. “Now he’s slurring.”

“Ten bits says he’ll slur again.” The same pony said to him.

Carl glared at him and looked at Mike “So Mike, what’s the next-” He gasped once he saw Mike get a pair of tubes and funnels out from under the table. “Oh no…”

Stan giggled. “Do we get to shove these up our-”

Mike shoved the tube in Stan’s mouth and yelled, “I have had it with you changeling! Not only will you lose, but you’re gonna be cleaning up your mess afterwards. So, are you ready to drink till you throw up!” Stan muffled through the tube in response. “Right then, let the games...Begin."