> Bad joke > by Stray Dog Kane > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Grrrrr,rawr,mew > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gilda felt oddly reflective right now. Under normal circumstances being reflective didn't do much good and ended with a smashed mirror or storming out. However with her waking in a bed with a hangover and a noticeable lump in the covers, to say nothing the fore AND hind legs wrapped around her torso, did give a jolt to her WTF (That’s What The Feather to the odd sort) mind set. She let out a low sigh, as not to wake whatever lucky stallion it was before his morning after castration. Gila had a regular routine since her brush off. Brood, work, train, and get plastered. She didn't go to the bar for company; she just needed a frigging drink. Of course some moron would try to sweet talk her and get told off, her fav was when she told a trio of pegaci that if they called her "Baby" one more time she would pluck out their eyes. The three stammered a joke of "Leave her with her girlfriend." and retreated. She had to wonder if Dash had to deal with this crud. Silver lining was that no one bothered her from that point. For a while, at least. One day things got weird. Instead of a high proof grain and oat mash her drink now tasted like smores. Chocolate, marshmallow, graham cracker, and fire...she drank it anyway. Other then the clear rank smells of pickles, nothing was bothering her. "Hello there Gilda." Spoke a clear, smooth voice. "Buzz off dork." Gilda replied, not even turning around. "That was uncalled for." He spoke defensively. "You know stuff like that earned you that "Queen of the lame-o" title." At that a crown made of socks landed on Gilda's head. She attempted to swat it off her, but the minute her claw touched it the sock crown exploded into festive confetti. "Yep, classy magic you got. Go pull that crud at happy hour." She said with a snarl. "You don't understand, it's always happy hour now." The weirdo laughed. "Neat." Was Gilda response thru clenched teeth. "Hammer yourself silly then." She could swear she heard pounding as she took another gulp of her smore in a glass. "All done. But seriously now, how would Dash take to you now hmmm?" Asked the gleeful voice. "Like she knows where I am! Right now I bet she’s with her new friends." She felt a cold tingle on this topic. "Ah yes, her little friends she took and dropped you like a bad habit." The voice said before adding a punch line. "BURN!" Gilda sighed. "Look, you got a point? Or is this some 'Wook at Swiwy Gwilda and Waph' speech. If that all you got, get lost." Yelled at the weirdo, still not looking. "What if I could get you in her good book, get your awesome back?" Gilda was still not facing this unicorn. "Yeah, no. Your little unicorn magic can't make things awesome." She said, taking another sip. "Oh, I'm more powerful than an alicorn." The voice said with a giggle. "So you’re that Trixe right? Did all that running give you a deeper voice?" Gilda chuckled at her little joke. "...Don't make me take your wings off." That weirdo grumbled. "Like you could." "Like I did." Gilda's back now felt lighter and she could not feel her wings. Now Gilda was feeling a chill. "Real cute. Barten...der?" Gilda started to utter before she saw what was wrong. Where once there was a bartender was now a cockroach with a clown nose. Gilda blinked a few times. "So I pour my own drinks now, huh?" She reached for the bottle, and then the bottle became snow flakes. "You can't drown your sorrows out of this one lame-o Queen." Gilda blinked a few more times as her eyes narrowed. "That bottle cost me 30 bits." She let out a deep breath. "You were saying?" "Oh, what’s that now? You want a conversation now? Well I could squeeze you in...just this once." Gilda's smug bravado was starting to wear out. No good retort, no mean gesture, no "I know better than you" would get her out of this. "..." "Well...the conversation?" "..." "Come on, don't be shy!" "..." "You have no beak yet you must scream?" "..." She could now feel breath on her shoulder. "You can't just ignore me for..." Gilda didn't let him finish as she grabbed his head and smashed it into the peanut brittle bar table. She took note of two things then, one that was no pony, as for two, that was worth it. "Ni don't ave to *cough* take this, you mean killjoy. Fine, cry in obscurity in some bar. See if I care you meanny pance griffon. I going to go where there am cake, and clowns, and ice cream and not invite uncool bird brains, like you." And with that the weirdo left. At this Gilda let out a sigh of relief. She was a bit shaky and felt a need to cry, however that cold feeling left. She put a claw on her face. "Yeah, you'll be missed." She looked behind the bar to see what was, more or less, there. A carton of milk, a yellow baby bottle, some hybrid of fruit and pinecone, and something of real interest, XXX cider (It’s too hot to drink.) "Hey can I have this?" The roach chattered. "Yeah sounds great." She took the jug, despite the roach now flailing like mad, and popped the cork. The aroma was strong, and Gilda was about to take a sip when she paused. Some magic crazy...thing...was now pulling the world to madness, and she was going to drink more. Then again seeing as Rainbow Dash likely still had wings, she can be the hero. And all this will be just be a bad dream, if it wasn't already. So chug away she did. "Get off my floor!" Hazy images of a not cockroach could be seen. "Up, you feathered furball! That whole jug was 150 bits, get out of my bar!" Gilda flew out the door and into the street. "*cough* It was worth it." "Don't come back until you pay of your tab!" "That’s like what 3, 4 weeks?" The tender had enough and closed the door, as Gilda pulled herself up. As she prepped herself for a long wobble home when someone tapped on her, now back again, wing. "There you are, I was looking for you!" Spoke a boyish voice. "What do you want dweeb?" "I don't know, what do you wanna do?" Now Gilda was annoyed again and so gave a stupid question a stupid answer. "Eat at a five star restaurant with a wine list." Was her sarcastic reply, at this point the colt will... "Yeah, sounds great." ...not catch on to her sarcasm and drag her off. She took in stride, a free meal, some more drinks, and a chance to laugh at a dweeb when he thinks that they got to first base. However things got hazy... And here she was with a more than a headache to start with. Only now, after her flashback, the other party began to stir...and rub its face against her chest...and make mewing noises. This colt is SO dead. Suddenly, a head popped out from underneath. "Morning Kitty Hawk." Gilda froze and took two thing of note. One, that was not Stallion, that’s a mare. And two, that is the dumbest face she had seen. "Want another wing massage?" Spoke the odd voiced gray mare. And to this Gilda responded like any half awake, shocked Gryphon. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"