Chapter 3
“Hi Flash!” A pink-haired primate practically pounced onto me as I left the locker room. “You going to the party?”
“There's a party?” As soon as the words left my lips, I realized I had no idea of what I was going to do, trapped in this hallucination or hell-world or whatever it was.
“Of course there's a party! Only the nice part is it's a victory party, instead of a 'sorry you guys got beat by the best team in the division' party! Isn't that great?”
“I ... suppose so?”
“And since you're the guy who made it be a fun party instead of a sad one, you've just got to come! There's gonna be music, and drinks, and snacks, and balloons, and it's going to be great! I promise!”
“Sounds pleasant.” I said.
“It's gonna be more than pleasant, lemme tell ya! It's even gonna be over at Rarity's house! Or, like, Rarity's parents house, I guess, 'cause their name's on the title and all but Rarity's dad is a huge football fan so he told Rarity to tell me to tell you that everybody's gonna go over there and party aaaaaaall night!” The pink one gasped for breath, as if she'd forgotten to do so in her enthusiasm. “So I'll see you there, right?”
“YEAH!” The blonde, buzzcut brute said as he strode out of the locker room behind me.
And that was that.
And so, the Wondercolts (along with the cheerleaders, and a significant percentage of the audience from the stands) piled into a convoy of strange, ramshackle vehicles. They were like wagons, only made of metal and propelled by loud, smoke-belching motors. It would've been a lot more efficient if they'd just used a train, but again, I was in the realm of a barbaric race of monsters-- or I was just hallucinating the whole thing. I still wasn't sure which.
A short while later, the caravan rolled up to a modest but elegant house tucked away at the end of a suburban cul-du-sac. By the look of things, the party was well underway, with dozens of the ape-things visible through the tall windows. Swept up with a knot of Wondercolts, I could do little but head inside. Two middle-aged ape-creatures at the door greeted us warmly.
“Just make yourself at home, kids!” A matronly female said, offering freshly baked snacks.
“And this must be the man of the hour!” A fearsomely moustached brute said as soon as he saw me. He looked down at me with the look of an old veteran, surveying the next crop of recruits. “Did better than even I did, back when I was your age! You're gonna go far, kid.” He gave me a 'friendly' punch on the shoulder, which only left a light bruise.
“Oh, you're boring him!” The matronly ape fussed at what I could only assume was her husband. “Don't mind him, kids-- he just likes to remember back when he played football, and ... oh! Now I'm the one being nostalgic!” she giggled, and then foisted another cookie on me. “You kids have fun, okay? We'll be upstairs if you need anything.”
Thusly greeted, I rounded a corner to the party proper. It was more-than-vaguely similar to the party at Princess Twilight's palace, only if it had been relocated to quaintly domestic house, and populated by a motley collection of primates. Still, the banners-and-balloons decor was the same, as was the music. What was most striking, however, was the fact the ape-creatures bore nearly the same coloration and hairstyles of the pony-guests I'd chatted with before I touched that wretched absinthe. In fact, I even saw a bespectacled and bipedal version of Princess Twilight herself, chatting away with a couple of her friends in the corner. I considered trying to corral her off to tell her just what was going on, but I thought the better of it. If I was just hallucinating, then I would just make an ass of myself to the real Princess, blathering on about how hideous she looked without her hooves or wings or what have you. Alternately, if I wasn't hallucinating, Princess Not-Twilight would likely react how Carrot Top did. That is, badly.
There was, however, one thing I was sure of.
“I need a drink.”
Again, the pink party primate stood watch over a small table laden with cups, punchbowl, and a small collection of bottles.
“Wine, please.” I said.
“But I don't waaaaaaaaanna!”
“Very funny.” The corner of my eye may have twitched.
“Thanks!” She winked at me, giggling. “I learned that one from Rarity!”
“Just ... something red, will you?”
“Okay!” Within moments, she foisted a paper cup on me. Within moments, I knew it was wrong.
“This is sugar water.”
“Cherry flavored sugar water! It's red, just like you asked!”
“You don't have any wine, do you.”
“Nope!”
“Port?”
“Of course not!”
“Whiskey?”
“Why would we have that?”
“Rum? Beer? Scrumpy?”
“Nope, nope, and I don't know what that last one is.”
“If you've got to ask, it's a 'no.'” I rubbed at my face. “What do you have?”
“Juice! Punch! Cider!”
“Then I'll take a-- wait. It's ... it's not non-alcoholic cider, is it?”
“Of course it is!”
I groaned. Perhaps I had died, and this entire realm of ape-creatures was my punishment for my many, many misdeeds. Still, I persisted, as damn if I hadn't earned myself a drink after all of this. “So you mean to tell me, you put together a party ... without a dram of alcohol?”
“Of course! We can't drink, silly! That'd be illegal! We're under the drinking age!”
“What.” Definitely a punishment-based afterlife. One of the 'ironic' kinds you read about in short story anthologies.
“We're still in high school! We're too young to drink! That's what the law says.”
“Is that all?” I said, and shook my head. “You're not serving proper refreshments just because of what some bureaucrats think will be the best for you?”
“Um. Yes?”
“Listen to me.” I said, and leaned in close. “You don't see any of the constabulary here, do you?”
The pink one looked over my shoulder, scanning the crowd. “Nope! I don't see any policemen, either!”
“Perfect.” I said. “For you see, Miss Pink--”
“My last name's Pie.”
“For you see, Miss Pie--” I didn't miss a beat, “This 'law' you're talking about is obviously an immoral one. I mean, I don't know about you, but I certainly have earned the right to a properly relaxing libation, I'd say.”
And her blue eyes went wide in understanding. “You're right! I've saved the world, like ... five times now! Maybe six! I should get to drink whatever I want!”
“That's the spirit!” I patted her on the shoulder, and tried not to think about what kind of perilous catastrophes that would've required the services of the manic creature in front of me. “In fact, seeing as of how this 'drinking age' business is an obviously immoral law, it's our moral duty to flaunt it.”
“Oh wow, when you put it that way, I almost have to start drinking!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Too bad we don't have anything with alcohol in it.” The would-be bartender's shoulders slumped, and mine did too. “I mean, we can't go out and buy any, and the only other booze in the house is in Rarity's parents liquor cabinet.”
“I can work with that.”
Turns out, filthy ape-hands are at least good for something, as, through the cunning application of hairpin and a butter knife, I was able to bypass the lock without much trouble. I wish I could say the doors parted with secret-treasure-fanfare of a Daring Do novel, but the contents of that cabinet were far more pedestrian. There were a few half empty bottles of basic cocktail ingredients, along with a few bottles of basic table wine. A bit pedestrian, but it would have to do. I picked out the bottle with the most interesting label (a halfway decent dry red, for the record) and fobbed the rest off on the pink one, who promptly started dispensing libations to her friends with a cry of “Vive la Resistance!”
Sadly, there wasn't any proper glassware handy. I wasn't patient enough to start rummaging through a stranger's kitchen (rummaging through their liquor cabinet was enough) and so I made do with a disposable plastic cup. I guzzled down the first cup of wine in a matter of moments, then poured myself another-- though I took time to appreciate that one.
Around me, the party went on as it did before-- only a little louder, a little rowdier, and occasionally punctuated by the sound of breaking glass. Between the carousing and the wine, it was almost enough to make me feel like I was back in Equestria. If I closed my eyes, at least.
The whole situation had the stink of magic about it, I decided. I still wasn't sure if this was some sort of hallucination or dream-quest or mass mutation, but whatever the cause was, hopefully there was some way out. I tapped my finger on the edge of my plastic cup-- until it came to me. It'd been some strange and terrible mirror-thing that had started this whole mess, so obviously all I had to do was find that same mirror again, and then I could wrap all this unpleasantness up. I'd found the original mirror while drunk at a party, and here I was again ...
I poured myself a third cup of wine.
A comfortable flush flowed through my cheeks, and I set about weaving through the crowd with the smooth gait of the mildly soused. I still had the cup in one hand, and the bottle of red in the other-- one has to hold onto one's provisions, after all. Ballet-graceful, I stepped around a soft-yellow ape-female with a lampshade on her head, past her rainbow-haired friend trying to get her to slow down a little, and over some poor sod who'd passed out on the floor after his first swig of corn liquor.
I went down a hallway, and the partying thinned-- just like it had at Princess Twilight's palace. Perfect. Vaguely remembering what I'd done when I was still a pony, I picked a door at random and stepped through, sure the malevolent mirror machine would be on the other side.
But, instead of stepping into a well-stocked library, I found myself in a clothier's workshop. There was a mirror, yes-- several, even, but without the strange and arcane machinery framing them. Various bolts of cloth and grotesque mannequins were scattered around the room, along with the other tools of the tailor's trade. Most notable, however, was the fact that the room was occupied by two females, and those two females were quite occupied with each other. The one with the purple hair seemed to be doing her damndest to lick the tonsils of the one in the farmer's hat, who in turn had her hands halfway into the other's waistband.
Well then. Not that room.
I pivoted on my heel, and eased the door shut behind me without being noticed. There are some things that shouldn't be intruded on, after all. I was about to start my search anew, but no sooner had I taken my first step, another of the primate-folk found me. I recognized her-- at least as far as one could recognize the ape-things: blonde hair, a sunny smile, and one eye skewed at an odd angle: Carrot Top's best friend, Ditzy Do.
“Hey.” She said, and sidled up to me with a saucy, not-entirely-sober smile.
“Oh, hello.” I said for politeness' sake. I stepped backwards, only to find my back pressed up against the wall. A terrible place for a coward, if there was one.
“Getting any ... ideas, Flash?” Ditzy Do (or at least her simian doppelganger) slunk closer to me.
“Not a one.”
“Well, I have an idea.” And with that, she took the cup of wine from my hand, pounded it down in a single gulp, and then tossed the empty over her shoulder.
“And that is ... ?” I said.
“This.” She grabbed hold of my jacket, and mashed her lips against mine.
I made a muffled cry of alarm, and wedged a hand between us to push her away as gently as I could manage. I'd seen far too many on-stage tragedies and melodramas to know that snogging the best friend of one's significant other could only end in disaster, even before one got to the magical hallucinations or what have you. That this Ditzy Do didn't even have wings to ogle made it even worse.
Ditzy didn't seem to notice. In fact, she looked down at my hand, which had wound up mashed against some squishy bit of her torso, and smiled. “Taking things fast, huh? I like that.”
And with that, she angled in once more, at which point I blurted out. “Wait!”
“Wait?” She blinked up at me with her innocent-but-not-entirely eyes.
“We can't do this.”
“Sure we can.” Ditzy Do nuzzled in against my neck. “Rarity told me Sweetie Belle's over at the Apple place for a sleepover. We can use her room--”
“Use her room to--” and then, the terrible, terrible realization hit me. My stomach turned, threatening to upheave the good quart of wine I'd already imbibed. Being turned into an ape was one thing, but the thought of copulating in such a form? You'd gag too. “Oh. That's disgusting.” I said.
Like I'd flipped a switch, Ditzy's soft smile melted away. She let go of my jacket, stepped back, and stared at me for a long, long moment as tears began to well up in her eyes.
“D-disgusting?” She whimpered. She drew in a shaky breath, trying (and failing) to compose herself. “That's what you think of me?” And before I could formulate a response, the blonde haired girl turned and dashed down the hallway, sobbing.
Stunned, I could only stare after her, and mumbled the only reply I could think of.
“That's what I think of everybody.”
Ah well. Ditzy's wasn't the first heart I'd broken, at least. The poor girl had obviously been taken in by my dashing charm (a universal constant, even in a world turned mad), and thought to throw herself at me. At least I'd nipped the whole thing in the bud early, before things could get too serious-- a crush, a whim, easily forgotten.
And so, I headed back to the party proper-- I'd have to slip through in order to resume my search for the magic mirror upstairs. I only hoped I wouldn't catch the older couple whose liquor cabinet I'd raided going at it too.
As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, however, everyone in the room went quiet, turning to stare at me. Just as I began to register that I'd somehow found myself at the center of a scandal (again, some things are univerally constant), I found myself confronted by a blur of orange-haired anger.
“You.” Carrot Top snarled. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” My voice may have cracked a little. “Not a damned thing!”
Carrot Top barked a derisive laugh, and jabbed a finger into my chest. “Nothing doesn't make Ditzy Do cry like that. I can barely get a word out of her. So tell me. What. Did. You. Do.”
“I turned her down, that's all!”
“What.”
“I'm telling you, she jumped me. Randy as a rabbit, she was. I tried to--”
“No. No.” Carrot Top said. “You don't get to play innocent, Flash. I've seen this movie before. I knew this would happen-- the popular quarterback dates the weird girl, just as a joke. I don't care if that Twilight girl dumped you-- you don't get to treat Ditzy like that. You don't get to treat anyone like that.”
“Hold on,” I said, “Twilight never dumped me--”
And before I could finish with “--because we were never dating in the first place,” something hit me in the face, hard enough to knock me to the floor. I laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, and realized that this Carrot Top might be pretty similar to the real one after all.
Carrot Top loomed over me, and jabbed an accusing finger in my face. “Don't you ever, ever talk to my friend again.”
I rubbed my stinging jaw, and nodded dumbly.
“And stop talking with that stupid accent.” She spat, and then whisked away.
Once I figured it was safe to move, I stood up again, bracing myself on the kitchen table (and knocking over a collection of empty cups and bottles in the process). The other partygoers in the room stared at me, shocked to see such a scandal so close. I merely glared back at them. “What's everybody looking at?” I said, and that was enough to get them to at least pretend to they were enjoying themselves once more.
“What's this?” Someone said from the hallway, and the purple-haired girl I'd nearly walked in on minutes before rushed into the kitchen, followed closely by the one in the farmer's hat. Both of them tried to re-fasten askew buttons as they walked in, and didn't do a very good job of it. The well-coiffed one surveyed the mayhem in the kitchen, and let out a horrified gasp. “Is that ... alcohol? Where did you-- how did you --- who did this?”
At least a half-dozen hands immediately pointed to me.
“Oh! Flash! How could you? My parents trusted us, and now ... now ... I don't see how this could get any worse!”
That's when the sirens began to sound.
Pulsing red and blue lights shone through the front windows, and the party immediately froze. Everyone turned to stare at the front door, frozen in horror. Except for me, that is. I knew a what the arrival of the 'proper authorities' looked like, and I knew exactly what to do. Moving slowly, so as to not draw too much attention to myself, I wound my way through the kitchen, towards the exit. By the time an impatient knocking came from the front door, I had already slipped through the back. Once it became clear nobody was watching me, I legged it properly, bolting across the grassy backyard. I vaulted over the wooden fence in a single bound (monkey physiology being quite handy for climbing, at least), and then dashed madly into the dark woods beyond. I ran in panicked (though practiced) flight, branches whipping at my jacket as I got farther and farther away from the lights of the neighborhood. Too far from the lights, I should note, as my foot caught on a root hidden beneath the fallen leaves, and I soon toppled forward, falling onto my face. The very same face Carrot Top had recently punched, I should note.
I allowed myself the luxury of a whimper-- over the years, I'd developed a finely honed instinct to know whether or not anything was trying to kill me, and right then, I seemed to be in the clear. And so, I just laid there, panting, feeling sorry for myself. I hurt, of course, but at least the wine I'd consumed had dulled the pain a bit. Worse, however, was the knowledge that I was still stuck in this hellish ape-world, and I still had no idea of how I was going to get out.
I couldn't tell you how long I laid there, sniveling and sniffling amongst the dirt and branches-- but my self indulgent reverie was cut short by the sight of a redheaded girl in a black jacket looming over me-- I'd been so distracted by my self pity that I hadn't noticed her creeping up on me. I gave an inarticulate cry of alarm, but the girl just put a booted foot onto my chest and glared down at me.
“Just who the hell are you, and what have you done with the real Flash Sentry?”
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AHA! Shimmer had been suspiciously out of focus. Shoulda seen it coming.
I can't help but think that either Rarity would concede that "a fearsomely moustached brute" is an apt description of her father.
Hmm. Sci-Twi's presence makes Carrot Top's hostility towards Sunset all the stranger...
I know I'm not the only one who thought along those lines.
I understand why he said that, and I still want to stab him.
Human Flash is in for a bad time tomorrow. I sincerely hope Sunset can at least somewhat salvage his reputation. Of course, first she has to deal with this reprobate.
That's the thing that always bugged me about the Twilight/Flash "romance". Twilight had never seen a human male before—and not five minutes earlier she'd been freaking out over having hands. Yet she lays eyes on Flash and suddenly she's smitten!?
I so hope Sunset can save Ginsberg Flash's reputation and console Ditzy, because DAMN pone Flash was an utter asshole now. He's going to have to work hard and suffer A LOT to make up for it.
Fortunately Sunset will most likely know what to do
Yay Rarijack.
Flash Sentry and not a thing.
I have come to the wonderfully horrible conclusion that human!Flash was going to the game (sick), and stumbled into the statue. He is currently having a "vivid fever dream about everyone being turned into colorful horses". Also making a mess of everything for pony!Flash to come home to.
9259759
Made better by the fact they don't have a "we were drunk" excuse.
9259872
You can blame the people I hang out with for having converted me to the and I quote: "Church of Rarijack".
Heh, so it turns out Rares and AJ were completely sober for their make out session.
I wonder if their pony counterparts are together as well. Not given since while the humans and ponies are very similar the are definitely not identical.
For example human Twilight is an unathletic klutz who made a fool of herself at the Friendship Games. While pony Twilight was fit enough to place 5th at the Running of th Leaves in Ponyville. A town where the majority of the population works in physically demanding jobs like farming or weatherwork.
A more intrinsic difference between them is that pony Twilight's biggest early problems were caused by her arrogance about her own intelligence while human Twilight suffered from the opposite problem of low self-esteem.
You bastard, you made Ditzy CRY! Being trapped in a world of eldritch horror isn't enough punishment.
Oh hi Sunset
9262588
Admittedly, it's been a long while since I've had proper absinthe, and I honestly wasn't quite feeling up to giving it another go-round.
But, I stand by my writing, in that Pinkie Pie obviously added ALL THE SUGAR in her preparation.
All of it.
9259872
Him making a mess over there would be, in large part, Sunset Shimmer's and Princess Twilight's fault. Neither of them, from what we know, ever informed Flash Sentry as to the specifics of just why Princess Twilight wouldn't come back to at least tell him to his face how their romance has no future. He just got told he's too unimportant and was expected to move on.
Or perhaps a confrontation like that is needed, just so the poor guy can finally have some real closure. He deserves it.
"I...*
Trains a still a common part of transportation these days, but many people prefer/use cars and or planes to travel these days. Which is understandable but trains are still used everyday even if they're good or not.
That's just how things are Flash. Since your in a body of a high schooler you can't drink til you've reached the age of 21.
He's so screwed.
again...*
any...*
is... ?"*
https://m.Good going Flash.
"And before I could finish with because we were never dating in the first place!"*
"Is that... alcohol?*
did you---*
now...*
You just had to say it, didn't you Rarity.
He's in trouble now!