The party for the Ponyville relay team qualifying was even by the tremendously high standards of Ponyville one to remember. Or forget, if you'd had enough of the sweet apple acres hard cider. Robert had one mug and that was quite enough for him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but he knew well enough that being drunk was not going to end well in the slightest. The fact that only one mug of hard cider hadn't ended well was somewhat disconcerting.

The trees at Sweet Apple Acres are not the most comfortable places to sleep, aside from certain pegasi, and even those only do that during the day for short naps, not all night affairs. Considering upon waking he was less than an inch from the bark, separated only by the length of his eye brows from the trunk, Robert was fairly certain he had not ended up sleeping in the tree on purpose. As consciousness returned to him, and awareness came with it, he noted that he was in a particularly precarious position, legs spread across a forked branch, face planted into the crook of a limb. His wings, as far as he could tell, were in acceptable shape.

They were until he fell out of the tree. An even precipitated by “Hey, what're ya'll doin' in mah tree?” Robert jumped and fell off the branch, rolling around and landing on his back.

“Augh.” was Robert's articulate response. He twitched on the ground, rubbing his head. "Please, not this early in the morning.”

“It's almost noon.” Applejack said.

“Please, not this late in the morning.” he groaned as he pushed or attempted to push himself up into a sitting position.

“Ah didn't know you were such a lightweight.” Applejack said, trotting up and giving him a shoulder to help him up.

“I'm not. Not usually. So either I'm not as tolerant as I thought, or there's more kick in that cider of yours than I figured.”

“Well, that was our family special reserve.” she said, shrugging.

“That different from what we had at the picnic?” he asked.

“Yeah, Reserve is just aged cider, Special Reserve is aged hard cider. Special Reserve's got alcohol in it, and it's been sitting and stewing for two years.”

“Ah. I see. Excuse me.” he leaned the opposite direction and emptied his stomach. He pointedly ignored the umbrella amidst the debris. "Sorry.”

“Don't worry, it's good for the trees. Probably.” Applejack shrugged. "You need help getting... wherever?” she asked.

“No thank you. I appear to be quite sober, simply incredibly hung over.” he pushed himself up to his feet. "Though if you can make the world stand still for a moment, I'll be happy to wait.” then he fell over sideways.

“You should probably come along to the house. Granny's got a fantastic remedy for hangovers.”

“Lead the way, I shall follow in due time.” Robert said and began crawling after her. It was, Applejack decided, really rather hilarious, though she contained her laughter. She'd had one too many on occasion and laughter was definitely not the best medicine in these cases. In these cases, it often meant the laugher would require painkillers after they were caught by the laughee.

“Follow me.” she lead him back the house, and directed him to a rain barrel behind the house. She had intended for him to wash his face, but he stuck his head in the barrel. He was under for a distressingly long time, but just as she was about to do something, he surfaced. She couldn't contain her laughter this time.

“Yes, hilarious.” He shook his head, spreading water across the barnyard. "You said there was a hangover cure awaiting me?”

“That was pretty much it.” she said, still laughing. "She usually gives us a lecture about drinking too much. I don't know if I remember it though.”

“I did not drink too much. I had one mug. And not even a full one. I was trying to avoid getting drunk.” he splashed some more water on his face. "I hate trying to get the smell out of my fur.”

“That we've got an actual cure for.” Applejack grinned. She lead him inside, and settled him down at the kitchen table. Granny Smith sniffed the air.

“Someone been drinkin'?” she asked. Big Mac shook his head. Robert raised a paw.

“I had one mug of hard cider. And I woke up in an apple tree.” he sighed. “And I was trying to avoid getting drunk. Bad things happen when I get drunk.”

“That would have been my fault young 'un. Granny admitted. Everyone stared at her. "That barrel done got mis-labeled.”

“Granny, does that mean?”

“Yep. That was a barrel of Zap Apple Cider.” Applejack's eyes rolled into her head, and she toppled out of her chair.

“What's so special about it?” Robert asked, a confused look on his face.

“Zap apples are special. They only grow when conditions is right. We had us harvest not too long ago and I put up a barrel of them apples as cider. It ain't much different from regular cider when you first taste it. But it's got a mighty potent kick to it as an aftertaste.” she gave him a grin. "One mug is like ten o' regular cider.”

“I see.” Robert said, and squinted, to see if she was pulling a fast one on him. Her eyes said that she was not. "Good thing I only had one then.”

“Ugh, did Granny Smith really say what I think she said?” Applejack asked, putting her head on the table.

“Eeyup.” four voices answered in unison.

“I thought so.” the orange head vanished, followed by a thud.

“Don't worry, she'll be fine. Now, who's ready for some Potato Pancakes?”

---

Twilight groaned and rolled out of bed. As much as she loved Celestia, there were days when her sun was a complete pain in the neck. This morning was one of them. She'd had a few mugs of cider, but it had never hit her like this. She moaned in pain as the sun hit her eyes.

“Morning Twilight!” Spike said cheerfully.

[Ugh.] Twilight responded and flung a pillow at him. [Quiet.]

“What's the matter?” Spike asked.

[Too much cider.] Twilight replied, putting a pillow over her face.

“Why, I had twice as much and I feel fine.” Spike shrugged. "Maybe you should cut back some.”

“I don't have the metabolism of a dragon.” Twilight said. "Start the shower and I'll be there shortly.”

“Sure Twilight.” Spike shook his head and left, closing the door quietly. The click of the door against the frame was enough to set her teeth on edge, when she found it normally comforting. Her horn instantly flared up and she fought hard to quench it. This was why she didn't normally drink at all. Technically powerful unicorns weren't supposed drink at all, but Twilight was aware she could drink one mug without being too intoxicated to remain in control. The problem she realized on reflection, was that she had thought she was drinking plain cider. She made, or attempted to make a mental note to ask Applejack about the stuff. Instead she settled for asking Spike to remember.

“Sure Twilight. Are you sure you're alright?” Spike asked.

“No, but I'll be a lot better after my shower.”

“Okay, I'll start breakfast.”

“Don't bother for me. I don't think I can keep anything down.” Twilight said, the very thought of food making her nauseous. She entered the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The water was temperate and just the way she liked it. She reached out with her magic and turned the hot water off. The initial blast of ice cold water was inexplicably painful, but after a moment it did it's job and focused her mind. She turned the hot water back up and let it relax her muscles. Finished, she stepped out and shook herself vigorously. It didn't get her completely dry, and did nothing for her wings. She did have one spell up her sleeve, but she wasn't entirely sure she was up to casting it. After a moment's consideration, she decided it was worth the effort to try, rather than have wet wings. She reached out behind her and turned the cold water on, just in case. It turned out to be completely unnecessary though, as her spell turned the water on her wings and coat to a fine steamy vapor. The second stage collected it all and dropped it in the shower, letting it wash down the drain. The last thing she wanted was to have her house start to rot.

Down stairs, Spike was crunching his way through a gem flavored cereal. She never had figured out how he was able to tell the difference between the various gem flavors, and he didn't seem to know how to explain either. Still, he said they were delicious. She dug into the fridge, and extracted a box of carrots. They weren't quite stale but they were close. Fortunately, she wasn't in the mood for anything with too much flavor, or it might remind her she was eating and she didn't want that. No matter how colorful carrot vomit was.

---

Fluttershy was essentially the only sober pony in town, simply because she hadn't had anything. It wasn't as though she never drank. But she hadn't last night, it wasn't that she didn't want any, but every time she'd headed that way, something had interrupted her. So she'd spent the entire party sober. Eventually she'd left after the music started getting to her. She'd enjoyed the party, but after the stress of the race and the train ride back, she'd been exhausted. Angel had waited up to hear the good news. She'd fallen straight into her bed and gone to sleep right away.

“Good morning.” She said, quietly, waking only Angel who was asleep on her head. He jumped off and bumped his nose against hers. "That tickles.” she giggled.

Several other furry critters appeared from under the blankets as she set about getting up and feeding the various animals she took care of. It was a simple morning routine, one which calmed her, something she did every day at the same time. No matter what her dreams had contained, feeding in the morning always calmed her, and steadied her nerves.

---

Rainbow Dash had more than just a few mugs. She always drank hard when she did, but she'd thought she was drinking plain cider. The fact that there appeared to be three Tank's hovering in the air caused her to believe she had been lied to about the cider. “Mornin' Tan.. tak.. Tank.”

“I thin' I drun' too mush.” she managed after a moment. "Shoop... lion. Beer. Oh my.” she managed to fly just straight enough to reach the bathroom in time. Tank hovered over to the door cloud. “Ah'm 'kay.”

The sounds that followed suggested to Tank that she most certainly was not. However, he decided not to think too hard about it. Instead, he hovered through the house, down to the lower floor and dug into the cabinets. He wasn't particularly speedy, but he was smart. When Rainbow was feeling like this, there was only one thing she wanted to eat. Oat loops, dry in a bowl with a glass of orange juice. He set the bowl on the tray, poured the cereal and then set a glass under the tap on the orange juice pitcher. He twisted the knob and then set the glass on the tray. Dash came out of the bathroom, to find Tank setting the tray on the bed.

“Than's li'l guy.” Dash said, and fell forward into the bowl. She munched it down, then drank the Orange Juice. "Ugh. I feel like I've been run over. By a Pinkie shaped sledgehammer.” she paused. "Steamroller. Yeah, that's the one.”

---

“Argh.” Rarity managed.

“Urgh.” Pinkie replied. Rarity paused, and replayed the moment in her mind.

“AIIEE!”

“AIEEE!”

“What happened last night?” Rarity demanded, jerking the sheets up.

“I don't know!” Pinkie replied, jerking the sheets back the other way.

“I don't remember.” the sheets popped back.

“Me neither.” shift

“Stop stealing my sheets.” jerk.

“Why are you covering up?” yank.

“I don't know!” pull.

RIP. The two ponies fell off each side of the bed, crashing into the ground.

“Ow.”

The door to Rarity's room popped open, and Sweetie Belle burst in, looking around. “What's going on?” she asked.

“Nothing at all Sweetie Belle.” Rarity said. "We just had an unplanned sleepover and didn't remember it.”

“Ah, so you don't remember coming home last night?” the filly asked. "Or the song?”

Rarity's eyes bugged out. “What song?”

“The one about the hedgehog?” Sweetie asked. Rarity fainted. "What? I thought it was cute. I'd never heard of a hedgehog named Sonic before.” Pinkie laughed.

---

Lyra pushed herself up into a sitting position. She was covered in confetti and glitter. Bon-bon was on her back spread across one of the tables in the town hall. Cloudkicker was suspended by her tail from the ceiling fan, lazily spinning around the center. Cloudchaser and Flitter were passed out under another table, and Thunderlane had his head propped over a bucket, while Blossomforth tried to untie the streamers from around his wings. The only indication that Roseluck hadn't gone home, was one leg bearing a cutie mark, sticking out from under a blanket, or possibly a tablecloth being used as one, near the stage. The mayor was up on the stage itself, cravat hanging jauntily off one ear as she snored loud enough to rattle the windows.

Lyra struggled to sit upright, and failed. She looked back and found Derpy passed out on top of her. Her tail was likewise pinned beneath Bulk Biceps, who was also snoring, though nowhere near so badly as the Mayor. It had been one of the wildest parties she'd been to in quite some time. Yet, she suspected it wouldn't take forever before the town recovered from the after effects. Several half-conscious ponies, including Bon-bon threw things as the door creaked open to admit Mrs. Cake, who had come looking for the tables which were being used by the various ponies.

“Oh dear.” she managed after several long moments. "I'll be back with some coffee.” Lyra smiled as she left. Mrs. Cake always knew what to do after parties like this. It was why she'd been the one to take in Pinkie to start with. True to her word she returned shortly with that life giving elixir and her husband in tow. She helped Lyra up by waving a muffin in Derpy's face and leading the still sleeping Pegasus to a table. Derpy didn't even wake as she munched. Mr. Cake gave a shove and Bulk Biceps rolled over, and off Lyra's tail. She stood and put a leg around each of their shoulders, hugging them in thanks. Then she trotted over to a much abused potted plant and emptied her stomach. That sound was enough to rouse several of the other ponies, except Roseluck and the mayor. The former moved only enough to pull her leg in, and the tablecloth over her head. The mayor appeared to be unrousable shy of some physical intervention. Mr. Cake hauled a water pail towards the stage, stopping and watching the ripples as each snore echoed through the building, with the interest of an enthusiast. The tipping of the bucket was met with great apprehension by those present and conscious and not currently evacuating themselves. The mayor did a passable impression of a surprised Pegasus, before gravity caught up to her and reminded her that she did indeed lack wings. There was an audible thud as she landed, face first on stage. Her cravat landed on the tip of her tail. The water rinsed something unidentifiable off the stage, and ran in great rivulets down to a central point, before disappearing beneath a tablecloth. The resulting scream, in addition to burning the ears of every pony who had woken there, save the mayor who was unconcerned with such minor things at the moment, also happened to be just the correct pitch and volume to shatter every window in the town hall in one swift moment. Derpy threw up her hooves.

“Ha! Not me this time!” And promptly fell through the floor. The words she used next shall not be repeated. Ever.