“You know, you’ve been looking at that bottle pretty hard.” The payer of the bottle smirks, being the legendary smirker that she is. “Never tried Captain Swash Buckler before?”
I break my concentration of my gaze at the bottle in my left hoof as we get back on track to the library. “No, no. I drink it. It’s… it’s just that it’s kind of important to me.”
“Let me guess, your first drink back when you were twenty-one...” She snickers. “...and you made me buy that so it can be your first again in your new life too?”
I nod and smile. She was a hundred percent correct… except of course this would be technically my second drink of my new life, but one could debate that Emperor Dive Kick’s sake was more an assassination attempt than a drink.
When the Canterlot Horn closed, it was on my twenty-first birthday. Meaning that at that point of my life I became both legally allowed to drink and unemployed after thirteen years of working like a dog. Doctor Brainstorm, knowing that it was quite a fucking day, took it upon himself to take me to a bar and told me do find something to take my time with. I needed something to celebrate, what with the day being my birthday and the fact that I will be free from the shackles that are in the office jokingly called the ‘Salt Box’, yet I wanted something to dull the question of what to do with my life now. I chose the Captain and… he delivered. Its texture was satisfying, like an achievement conquered. The taste made me forget the uncertainty of the future and the label design… oh, that a label design... I have continued my career of a drunk in different spirits and booze throughout the years in many different points in my life: Eggnog on Hearth’s Warming, vodka during a Winter Wrap-up, anything in the morning, all that jazz; but no beverage has fit the occasion perfectly as a good Captain Swash Buckler on the rocks at that exact moment.
Maybe because… it wasn’t really a moment thing, but an emotional thing. I was nervous for my future… but I was excited knowing that something I despised was dead. Is there a word to describe that emotion? There should be.
“Uh… Wound?” I hear Vinyl as I ponder about this word. “That’s the window I came in, right?”
I look up. Seems like we’re back at the library, al-“OH, FUCK ME!”
Someone broke a window. Someone broke a fucking window. I’m willing to bet it was some punk who took one look at the cake at the Re-Cute Mitzvah, jumped to the ‘he sold out and married the princess somehow’ conclusion, turned around and ran straight here with a rock. Something tells me this isn’t even going to be the only broken window when the day is done…
“Don’t worry, dude.” Vinyl says, rubbing my front leg that is rubbing down my face. “Twilight will buy a new one. Shit, I bet she has a spell that fixes stuff like this.”
“I know she does. It’s just that…” Hmm, how can I put this in a way that doesn’t make me look like a self-conscious prick? “Since I came here, I sort of noticed my fan base is very... anarchistic.”
“Well, if you call yourself the Unalicorn…”
“They gave me that name, not me! Anyway… since I found out about it I’ve been worrying about what the hell they’re going to do if they found out about the adoption.”
…
“You don’t think…?” Vinyl asks pointing at the window.
“I do think,” I say to her, nodding. “And it’ll be even worse tomorrow when it hits the papers. According to my magic, Wordsworth Daily’s got the scoop.”
…
“Bullshit.” The DJ says bluntly. “They wouldn’t do that.”
“What makes you think that?” I ask quietly. They might be listening.
“Because they bucking love you, man! If anything, they would be hating Twilight for adopting you, and even then they would rather forgive her because she moved you here to Ponyville with them. Yet alone how many times she saved their houses from the monster of the week!” She laughs off. “Maybe it’s a troll trying to get a rise out of your fanbase?”
“A troll?” I ask looking at the DJ in a quizzical manner. “As in those weird green things they say hang around on bridges or…?”
“As in the pony pissing others off for their own amusement.” Vinyl sneers. “There are some really mean ones out there, man. Like, I got stung by this one stallion called Thunder Roll, right? I was planning something special for Tavi and have an all-mare freak-fest. I thought I was going to meet-up with some little filly I contacted in the lonely hearts column but what I found was him with a bucket of cold custard instead!”
“Shit, really?” I wince, looking at the window. The bastard! What kind of buck-wit does that? “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing, he got away. All I could do was wash off and just cook somethin’.” Vinyl shrugs. “Turned out Tavi was planning the same thing too, so I guess it was for the best.”
…
I feel a hoof on my shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Wound.” The DJ assures me. Must have seen my face when she brought her up. “She’s just a little unhappy, that’s all.”
I blink a few times, looking back at her. “I made her unhap-”
“Don’t you dare say you made her unhappy.”
“But I…”
“No, you didn’t!” Vinyl shouts, holding her hooves to my face making me look into her sunglasses. “Your magic did! You are not your magic, don’t you dare say you made her unhappy! You are the one who had her humming back home last night.”
…
“She was humming?”
She nods. “Even when I was still mad at you for being blunt with me. She never did that when dating any colt before. She apologised to me for it with a smile on her face. You make her that damn happy. Remember that.”
I look down on the floor, smiling for a moment. That was good enough for Vinyl to let go.
“I better check on her, though. You go and clean up the pieces and I’ll pick you up in about two hours from now, okay?” She asks.
I nod as she pecks me a quick one on the cheek.
As she walks away, I slowly walk to the front door of the library. You know something? She’s not indescribable like Octavia…
… But she sure is something.
… Well, at least it wasn’t what I thought before I opened the door.
It does seem like a recurring theme right now; things not being what I thought they’ll be. For instance, while observing the crime scene that was the library window, I couldn’t find any rock or brick with a tag around it with certain words on it like, ‘Traitor’ or ‘Sell-out’.
I, instead, found the nocturnal bird I dub as Owlo on the floor looking very frazzled.
“You okay?” I ask the owl. It’s pretty clear what happened here. He ran into the window thinking it was open, the silly thing.
He pecks the air with his beak. From what I gathered, this is the owl equivalent of nodding.
I look around, noticing something the owl didn’t “You do realise that window over there was open, right?”
The owl looks at the other window in question, then puts his face in his wings. The double Face-hoof of the avian world, I bet.
“It’s okay, man. It happens to the best of us. You go clean yourself up on your perch, I’ll handle this.”
The owl flaps up to its spot as I find the broom.
It didn’t take long to get the pieces off the floor. A lot of it was in pretty big chunks, anyway. Still, if there is anything I learned from many a broken bottle, it never hurts to sweep for the tiny shit you can’t see. I put the broom away, I turn to the little featherbrain. Looks like he’s got another letter wrapped around his talon.
“I’m guessing it’s from Twilight?” I ask as I remove the letter from his leg. He nods as I start reading.
Dear Woundsalt,
Thanks for writing back to me this morning. It’s good to know your date went well. Sort of wish you tell me more on it though, because according to the rest of the girls you haven’t told me half of it! The money came from an old rival of yours? The date was in your former bully’s bar? You were in a bar and you didn’t touch a drop? Wow! I never thought you would have made so much progress in one day! Don’t you ever give me half the story, okay? Don’t be modest because you’re writing to a princess!
That being said, however, I appreciate your modesty of not bringing up the dream you had last night. I’m sorry I didn’t go into detail about Rain Coat’s death. It’s just that I didn’t want you to worry about this detachable horn she was working on. I think it’s safe to say now, though, is that her blueprints prove to me is that she wasn’t mentally well. She thought she needed a cup of penguin, for crying out loud! How do you put a penguin in a cup and in what way did she ever think something like that would have any magical qualities?
Anyway, what we should take away from this is, and I am sorry to say it, is how important it is to have friends. She was shielding herself from the world like you were doing in Saint Diamond Heart’s, you know. She was living by herself, drinking heavily, taking harder drugs than Onderlandwah (Which I am fine with if it’s helping with your magic, but if you haven’t apologised to Apple Jack yet you probably should. It was mean of you and Zecora, making her take it), and most importantly… no friends. Remember that the next time one of the girls ask you if you’re okay, alright?
On a lighter note, this lesson of change you’re working on… It sounds like a great one to start off with. Can’t wait till you finish it. Better be careful though, something tells me the girls might learn it before you. Rainbow’s being curious about her sexuality, Apple Jack for a moment believed she could become transgendered (Again, APOLOGISE to her… and while you’re at it, as of writing this Fluttershy wrote to me about the surge you had in front of her. I know that one wasn’t particularly your fault but she’s a little mad your magic used her missing dove against her. Apologise to her too, just to make her feel better.), Rarity just opened up to me on her experience with Onderlandwah, and by the looks of things Pinkie Pie is a little worried about all three… she can be afraid to new ideas sometimes. Not her fault really, she was raised on a rock farm. They’re pretty morally strict there. If you get caught in a debate with her about sexual equality or something, just remember that. Also, try and be careful at this Re-Cute Mitzvah she’s planning. I don’t really think you are ready for a Pinkie Pie party still, but… well, you have definitely surprised me on your progress so far. Surprise me and have fun!
Hope you have a great second day. If things do go bad, just remember: You got a sibling! And yes, we’re looking for them now. No more spit necessary!
Your Extremely Happy Teacher,
Princess TwilightPS: Just a heads up, according to Princess Celestia the receptionist from Saint Diamond Heart’s is on her way to Wordsworth Daily. I can’t confirm that she’s going to reveal her ‘mistake’, but if it turns out your full name is on the front pages… Well, don’t act surprised.
I lay back in the chair. Sweet Cadence, just seeing how late this information is, it really shows how big of a day it’s been. I better write her back. Quill, check. Paper, check. Ink… let me just imagine Octavia kissing Printed Page… Oops! Probably a bit too much there! Anyway, ready to go!
Dear Princess Twilight,
Sorry for not giving you ‘the full story’… I was a little bummed this morning that you didn’t tell me about Rain Coat. Definitely water under the bridge now. Here is my day as best as I can describe it…
… So yeah, that about wraps it up. Sorry if it’s a little too much to read… safe to say I was little too busy to think about that lesson. I’ll think of something though, don’t worry.
Anyway, I’ll be out for the night, with this tournament and… well, don’t say I didn't earn my drinks night tonight. I’ll try and apologize to Fluttershy and maybe talk to Pinkie Pie when I see her again.
Your Soon to be Drunk Student…
Woundsalt.
… Sweet Tartarus, it’s been a long time since I had hoof cramp like this. And all I pretty much wrote down was what I did today… minus the fact I met a changeling today. Something tells me she won’t be nice about Salty Bet if I told her about it… even if I tell her Betty had nothing to do with her brother’s wedding. I roll it up and hand it to Owlo. “Now, there’s a good chance I won’t be back here tonight.” I tell him. “If you come back before me, make sure you don’t break anything, okay?”
He looks at me in a grumpy manner.
“Hey, I’m just saying, I don’t want to walk home to more broken glass, okay, Owlo?”
“Hoo…” The owl sighs.
“Good. Off you fly, now. Try not to dislocate your leg carrying this thing.”
The owl flaps his wings and flies through the open window with some surprising ease considering his load, leaving me, Mister Bobby-bird the Second and Captain Swash Buckler on our own.
…
Eh, buck it. I take the cup from Mister Bobby-Bird, throw the water out and replaced it with some of the rum. There you go, little guy. At least I can say I didn’t drink this all by myself.
Should I get a glass for myself? I should probably get a glass for myself. I can look at the bottle more that way. I love the design of Captain Swash Buckler; it’s so badass! This pirate unicorn standing on his hind legs on some rocks by the sea, floating a small keg of his head while brandishing two pistols in his front hooves, with a long… flowing… lime green mane and an open red coat… showing his fit… lean stomach… and a look in his left eye directly into my soul… like he is saying, “C’mere and sit with me, lad… I want to have... an adventure... with... you.”
…
Say, is that phoenix back in the library or am I a little too hot and sweaty while I’m looking at an alcohol mascot?
A… Tall… Handsome… Mascot…
…
Oh, goddess… I'm gay.