Author's Notes:

Added on 18 May 2016

Formerly Come One. Come Some.

Trixie wobbles down the street of Buschite, Bernese, levitating a bag of pills and alcohol, with a near empty bottle of alcohol floating in front of her muzzle. As she trots down the sidewalk, she tries to focus on her surroundings, but she is seeing doubles and it seems like the light from the lamp posts are being stretched out while the noise is garbled. In spite of these things, Trixie still loves the feeling of bliss she is getting from the drink. She feels lighter and cannot feel any of her sores from the cumulative injuries, nor can she feel any worry. All she has are light steps and blissful thoughts.

Trixie continues her walk down the colorful street, surprised that there are civilians walking around with shopping bags and chatting. A smile flickers across her face as she remembers when ponies could walk around Canterlot at night without worry. Though, despite the peaceful scenery, Trixie does find it odd that there is a lot of military propaganda posters plastered all over the walls of the buildings.

One poster that catches her eye displays a fierce ibex soldier, wearing combat armor and aiming his battle saddle at a griffin soldier swooping down with their claws extended and battle saddle aimed. The soldier is also standing in front of a cowering family and underneath is a sentence that Trixie does not care to translate. The other posters show things like a line of ibex in uniform standing proudly and looking off in the distance with a heavily armed and armored zeppelin flying above them. Or soldiers on the deck of a ship guarding a city in the background. One thing that makes her stomach churn, though, is an instruction poster that is clear enough to where she does not need to read it to know what it is about.

The picture shows a basic step-by-step instructions on what to do in case of a bombing raid. The bomb is marked by a silhouette of one inside a warning sign, and every ibex in the picture is designed to be simple silhouettes as well. There are examples on how to properly carry injured, what to bring and what not to bring, how to stay together, and they even have arrows to bomb shelters and medical stations with the crossroads labeled.

Trixie shakes her head and makes her way back to the hotel, drinking her drink and staying close to the walls so that when she does lose balance she will have something to lean on. When she reaches her hotel room, she tries unlocking the door, but the key refuses to go into the darn lock. Trixie swears loudly and stabs at the door, leaving scratches on the doorknob and paint, and when the door opens up she accidentally pokes Monte’s chest with the key. Monte jumps back and rubs where Trixie stabbed him. In turn, Trixie giggles and leans against the doorway.

“Sorry, honey,” giggles Trixie.

“I take it you had fun,” says Monte sourly, his eyes bloodshot and body reeking with alcohol.

“Trixie had all kinds of fun! Trixie found all kinds of cool stuff and no Brisk Wind or Shocky was around to ruin it! Ibex sound funny. Do you think they sound funny?”

“Considering I grew up here, no.”

Trixie snickers as she wobbles past Monte, brushing her tail against his coat in the process. “Well Trixie thinks they sound funny. You sound funny, too when you speak Burnaniece.”

Monte closes the door. “It’s called Bernesenese.”

Trixie chugs the last of her beverage and throws it in their room carelessly. She then tries to skip around the apartment, but she nearly falls flat on her face. Luckily for her Monte catches her and sets her upright. When he notices Trixie’s pills he yanks them away from her, but she is too tipsy to care at the moment. Besides, she is too busy taking out her next bottle, and when Monte sees what she is drinking his jaw drops.

"Uh, Trixie, I wouldn't drink that if I were you," says Monte while pointing at the bottle of Wild Pegasus that Trixie is holding. "You already had quite a bit to drink, and that stuff is for professional liquor holders."

"You don't think Trixie can’t not not hold her liquor?" accuses Trixie, slightly wobbling in her spot.

Monte blinks. "Um, let’s just say you are having a lot to drink in a short amount of time, which is not good.”

“No, it’s naughty,” slurs Trixie, putting a lot of sensual emphasis on “naughty” and adding a sultry tail flick to the mix.

Trixie snickers when Monte turns away from her, rubbing his face in a feeble attempt to hide the raging blush conquering his face and ears. She gets a large, devilish smile and sashays over to him. Or tries to at least. She actually trips over her own hoof and face-plants the floor.

Trixie feels Monte’s hoof wrap under her and gets a surreal feeling as she is lifted off of the ground and eased into the sitting position. She giggles and sways in her spot, despite Monte’s best efforts to keep her still, and when she leans against him he lets out a nervous whimper. Then Monte suddenly darts away from Trixie and she falls to the ground laughing idiotically. He uses his magic to grab the bottle Trixie tossed in their room. Its another Wild Pegasus.

“You had two of these!” cries Monte, eyes bulging and jaw almost falling off from how far it dropped.

“Trixie had more than two, Mutie,” says Trixie lightly. “Trixie does like a good bottle of the good stuff from time to time, after all.”

Monte grabs his head and mumbles something Trixie cannot understand. But she does not care. She has a fantastic fire in her belly, three Montes to tease and the world is spinning! It doesn’t get any more fun than this, especially after the fiasco at the bank.

“Relax, Monte number-o one,” giggles Trixie as she clambers onto the bed. “Monte Dos, tell Monte One to relax.”

“It’s you who needs to relax!” exclaims Monte. “You just mixed pills and two bottles of Wild Pegasus! Do you have any idea what that does to a pony?”

Trixie leaps off the bed. “That’s what she said!”

“That doesn’t even make sense! But, Trixie, you really need to lay down and relax, okay?”

“You’ll have to catch Trixie first!”

Trixie makes a run for the door, but before she can reach it Monte zips in front of her and she runs right into him. Both ponies roll over each other and bounce across the floor, coming to a stop by the garbage bin.

“Ooh, do you want to wrestle, Funtan?” teases Trixie, her slur seemingly worse than earlier, and her tail flicking provocatively against Monte’s. “Trixie can garrat-teen that you’ll lose.”

Monte pushes Trixie off.

“Okay, Trixie, you had way too much to drink. You need to relax or else you’ll puke up everything,” says the zony.

“And Trixie will puke all over you.”

Monte frowns. “That was nasty.”

Trixie points and laughs at Monte, eventually rolling on her back and kicking her hind legs wildly while still managing to keep her forehoof pointed at him. She doesn’t know how or why, but something about Monte’s facial expressions and nervous behavior is cracking her up. Maybe it’s the way the zony’s face is red, or how he is stumbling over his words constantly. Or perhaps it’s because she has turned the tables on the tease.

Then she feels it.

Trixie suddenly feels her stomach contents surging to her throat and her face turns green as she bolts to the bathroom as fast as she can. When she slams the door shut and pukes her guts out in the toilet, she hears Monte taking full advantage of her misery by laughing obnoxiously.

Trixie groans and rubs her head, wanting to puke again when she sees the chunky, orange vomit floating around in the toilet water. She then glares at the door when Monte laughing shows no sign of stopping, and she grits her teeth and pushes the door open as hard as she could, wobbling in place and having some difficulty focusing on the zony. Monte holds up his hoof defensively when he sees Trixie seething at him. But despite her glare he is still truggling to hold back his laughter.

“Don’t you dare say it,” growls Trixie, her slur retaining a small presence.

“I-”

“Don’t!”

“But I-”

“Monte!”

“I told you-”

“Monte, don't say it! Don't you bucking say anything!”

Monte puts his hoof over his mouth, and his shoulders buckle as he fights a losing battle to keep his laughter under control. Meanwhile, Trixie watches him for a few more seconds before she sits down and gently rubs her temple, sighing in aggravation before brushing loose, sweaty strands of her mane from her face.

“Oh goddess, I feel like shit,” says Trixie.

“I told you so,” blurts Monte.

That does it. Trixie screams furiously and charges Monte, and he snaps his forehoofs defensively, laughing hysterically.

“Don’t hit me!” says Monte.

And that is the last thing he says before Trixie tackles him to the ground.

The next morning, Trixie groans and shifts under her cover. The hotel's fluffy, silky cloth rubbing against her coat is like music to her ears, and when she shifts the pillow to make it more comfortable using her hoof, she realize that her body feels numb. Also, every bit of light and city noise brings pain to her eyes and ears, making for a very odd combination.

Trixie squeezes her eyes shut and buries herself under the blanket as she presses her face harder against the pillow in hopes that its comfort will outweigh the discomfort from the morning activity. But she can't because the hangover she's experiencing is demanding her price be paid in suffering. Plus her pillow is wet.

With this realization Trixie reluctantly opens her eyes she sees a massive drool stain on her pillow. Her eyes narrow in on the menace and before she can curse herself for drooling, the worst morning breath she has ever experienced attacks her mouth in full force. Aside from the natural, painfully icky morning breath, there's also a weird taste in her mouth that is somewhat familiar but she cannot quite explain. Trixie gags and breathes into her hoof, scrunching her nose when she gets a better scent of her horrid breath.

Trixie groans quietly as she runs her hoof through her messy mane, and her eyes widen when she realizes that the numbness she's feeling is strongest in the lower parts of her body. She stops messing and winces as she reluctantly lifts her blanket up, and what she sees is so horrifying that she slams it back down with her hooves covering her mouth. Her silvery, curly tail and lower body is caked in something she has seen plenty of times. She looks over at the couch, and to her horror, Monte is not on it, and a lump next to her snores and mumbles something softly in the zony’s voice.

Trixie's worry increases tenfold as she sits up, doing her best to ignore the aches, and lifts up the blanket to see Monte sleeping peacefully next to her. His mane ruffled and he looks abnormally happy, even for him, and it concerns Trixie how he is tightly hugging a drool covered pillow. He mumbles something again and Trixie's jaw drops when her mind puts the pieces together.

No recollection of last night. Hangover. Mysterious aches. Mysterious bad morning breath. Messy, blissful Monte next to her in a bed.

Trixie clamps her hooves over her mouth, blushing furiously, after letting out a terrified squeak that makes Monte stir.

"Mmmm, Trixie, you taste good. Let me lick you," mumbles Monte happily, dragging his tongue along the pillow.

Trixie's eyes bulge and when she realizes how messy the room she just wants to die from humiliation. Along with empty bottles all over the floor, Monte's clothes are in the weirdest of spots and there are empty food containers from room service scattered with food stains all over the place.

Trixie trembles in her spot.

Then she looks at Monte.

Then around the room.

Then at the wall directly in front of her and she shrieks at the top of her lungs and Monte screams and falls off of the side of the bed.