"Mares night out" by Anon UNFINISHED


                                            Post number/s: 28427578; 28427696; 28434351; 28434372;

                                            Original author: Anon* (Some reports indicate DWK himself but don't consider this as anything more than a joke)


                                            "Well, you could, of course, s-stay with Trixie"

                                            >Be The Great and Powerful Trixie

                                            >You just stuttered, and you pray to any deity that might be listening that she didn't catch it

                                            >Your heart is hammering in your chest as you carefully sip your beer with what you hope looks like nonchalance

                                            >Just look straight ahead, keep your eyebrow cocked, and don't let your hoof shake

                                            >Your mug hits the bartop just a little too hard, but it looks like you pulled it off

                                            >Starlight giggles, and you can tell she's feeling the ale she just polished off, as well as the three that came before it

                                            >"Trixie, don't you live in a wagon?"

                                            >Her melodious voice is nearly drowned out by a caustic ringing in your ears as you parse what it just asked you

                                            >Old gods why does that have to be her first question?

                                            "Well yes," you say with as much gusto as you can muster on the fly

                                            "But trust Trixie," you assure, remembering to take a breath at the pause and directing all concentration into controlling your chest muscles to make sure it isn't a gasp, "it's quite spacious and contains accommodations befitting her greatness. I'm sure it's luxurious enough to satisfy an average pony such as yourself"

                                            >"Pfffft"

                                            >The composed delivery you were just about to praise yourself for is greeted by a hearty chuckle, and you nearly freeze in place, dipping your hoof at the last second to snatch up the mug once more

                                            >You take a fast, massive swig in an attempt to hide the flushed crimson that the heat in your cheeks has no doubt manifested as

                                            >You made a grave miscalculation, coughing up beer and unspeakable curses

                                            >"Whoa there," Starlight laughs drunkenly, slapping you on the back

                                            >It only makes things worse, but she's touching you

                                            >"Don't die on me"

                                            >Old gods she's still touching you

                                            >rubbing your back as you finish your coughing fit and try to salvage what's left of your composure

                                            >"If you go hooves up, I'll have to stay with Fluttershy tonight"

                                            >You seize up at the implication

                                            >“Aww, that’s lame”

                                            >You’ve been having what probably looks like a stroke for some indeterminate length of time, and you whip your head to the right in a desperate attempt to figure out what Starlight is talking about

                                            >She’s tipping her mug upside down theatrically, lamenting its emptiness

                                            “Barkeep!”

                                            >Your attempt at an authoritative bellow comes out as a high-pitched squeak, and another melodious titter fills your right ear

                                            >The mustachioed stallion whose attention you demanded eyes you with a costanzatory tilt of his head

                                            >You only now realize how intimidating he is, but you press on

                                            “Bring the lady another ale! Put it on Trixie’s tab!”

                                            >His eyes narrow

                                            “Chop chop!”

                                            >“Miss...Trixie,” he spits your name, curling his bushy upper lip

                                            >“As I recall, the first time you came here, you left without paying your tab”

                                            >He might be right, but this insult to your person makes you snarl involuntarily

                                            >“And as I definitely recall after that,” he continues, rolling his eyes and turning away to fill up what must be someone else’s mug, “the next time you came by, you enslaved the whole town and forced us into hard labor”

                                            “So?” you demand

                                            >“So the only reason I even allowed you back in here is because you’re with her”

                                            >He waves a hoof in your companion’s direction, still not bothering to look you in the eye

                                            “S-So?”

                                            >Good one, Trixie

                                            >“So,” he drawls, turning around and setting the fresh beer in front of Starlight

                                            >“Be quiet or I’ll throw you out of my bar”

                                            >“Here you go, miss Glimmer,” he continues, his face curving up into a wry smile, “this one’s on the house”

                                            >You feel as though your cherished wizard’s hat is going to explode off the top of your head

                                            >He just verbally cucked you

                                            >“C’mon Trixie, he’s just messing with you”

                                            >All the blood that just rushed to your head drains away quickly enough to make you dizzy as you realize how visible your rage must be to Starlight

                                            “Ahem”

                                            >You clear your throat

                                            “It’s not that,” you explain

                                            “Trixie was just feeling...remorse over her past transgressions against Ponyville”

                                            >You hope the gravel in your voice doesn’t betray you

                                            >The gentle tilt of her head and adorable half-smile says it definitely did

                                            >“Suuuuure,” she drags as her eyebrows slowly scale her forehead

                                            >Great

                                            >You’re spineless and a liar

                                            >She must be swooning on the inside

                                            >You’ve only been sitting here for an hour, and already, your two best-honed tools - deluding yourself and lying - have been slapped right out of your hooves

                                            >The wave of self-hatred that washes over your mind is beaten back by the only weapon you have left

                                            >Anger

                                            “Why are you here, Starlight?” you ask coldly, finally looking her in the eye

                                            >“What do you mean?”

                                            >Something tells you that even this halfway-inebriated Starlight Glimmer knows exactly what you mean, but apparently she’s going to make you say it, and that only adds fuel to the fire

                                            “Trixie would think that Miss Perfect Princess Alicorn Twilight Goody-Two-Shoes Sparkle’s revered apprentice would have better things to do on a Friday night than hang out in this dive”

                                            >You raise your voice on that last bit

                                            >The bartender cracks his neck but says nothing and trots off into the back

                                            >You better enjoy what’s left of your drink, because something tells you there won’t be another to take its place

                                            >“Define ‘better’”

                                            “Oh I dunno,” you ponder, tapping a hoof against your chin and gazing toward the cieling

                                            >You’re about to pass the point of no return, but the alcohol takes that thought and shoves it right back where it came from

                                            “Sitting on your haunches and polishing her great, big, throbbing friendship scepter?”

                                            >Good job, Trixie

                                            >You’re back to zero friends

                                            >Well done

                                            >You truly are great and powerful

                                            >Your self-flagellation is interrupted by a loud laugh, and your hoof shoots out involuntarily, saving your tipsy friend - and the word still seems to apply - from tumbling out of her seat

                                            >“She...heh...she actually has one of those”

                                            >Your eyes go as wide as dinner plates

                                            “Wait, Twilight’s a st-”

                                            >“No you moron,” Glimmer cuts you off with another cackle, “she actually has a scepter”

                                            “And Trixie thought she herself was a narcissist”

                                            >“Discord gave it to her. You know him, right?”

                                            “Ah yes, speaking of questionable ‘orientations’”

                                            >“Heh...I don’t know anything, and I’m not about to ask,” she snickers, holding up her hooves


                                            **UNFINISHED**