There was a small nightclub set up in a former warehouse somewhere deep inside an old commercial area near the railway station. As far as I could remember, this dumping ground for public nuisances and angsty teenagers had always existed here, scarlet neon letters flashing the name The Red Horse into the eyes of every weary pedestrian around.

I ended up this place during several unrelated nights throughout my high school years, dragged along by some other mentally unfit fillies I knew from class. That was ages ago, and usually only happened on nights after I fell out with my parents or didn't have anything better to do. Either way I'd be getting hell for it the next morning. In the end I only remembered the club as a sort of refuge from the rest of the world, where apparently things weren't all that shitty. I needed that now.

Even at three in the afternoon the place had already opened up. It wasn't exactly bursting with customers, strictly speaking. The few visitors the place had didn't seem all too familiar to me. Most of them lurking around in dark corners, playing pool or darts or something. Dark and dusty surroundings, along with a seemingly endless counter with an equal number of liquor bottles stashed inside the shelves behind it, and a small stage for impromptu karaoke performances rounded off the ensemble pretty well. The place hadn't changed at all, and it almost brought a smile to my face.

The atmosphere was somber and quiet at the time. They didn't play any music here until seven or eight at night. Right now, the club was more of a bar, and not a very successful one at that. The main crowd wouldn't show up for another few hours, and what a rotten bunch they would be!

The Red Horse was run by a bunch of crazy left-wing radicals who managed to keep an open mind for all sorts of social deviants. That's where the name derived from, I guess. These ponies weren't so much into money, which was good since I rarely ever had any. They wanted to get rid of money all together, one of the bartenders once told me. I replied, the Princess probably wouldn't allow that. He asked, why not get rid of her then? I couldn't find an answer at the time.

I could come in, either way. Poor and desolate ponies were more than welcome in here, and they barely ever served anyone else. Except of course, weirdo teens like my own former self not so long ago. I wasn't so sure about anypony else, but whoever considered themselves middle class or above tended to resolutely avoid the place altogether.

Not me. After a quick stop at the bathroom, I sat down at the counter. I needed something to help me forget everything that already happened today, and make sure nothing even worse would follow. Nothing I'd be able to remember, anyway. Drinking is bad for you of course. But I felt so empty and hollow that day, I was longingly in need of pretty much anything to stuff that painful hole in my gut.

The bartender probably needed a drink as well after looking at me. I could tell because I made the mistake of risking a peek inside the mirror while freshening up. And the undead apparition staring back at me seemed creepy enough, even if it hadn't been for the pair of reddened, bloodshot eyes. Maybe, I really was turning into a zombie of sorts. I wouldn't even mind that much, I think.

In any case it didn't matter so much to me, right now. Not after I sat down for a drink, biding my painful memories goodbye. Now all I needed to do was pick a method for their execution. Unsure what to try first, I eventually went with a Piña Colada. The name had a nice ring to it.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be the drink's only aspect for me to enjoy. I shouldn't have judged the book by its cover, apparently. A pony needed to tread lightly when faced with a foreign term. Which probably sounded a bit racist, but I really wouldn't consider myself a xenophobe. Then again, I never really paid attention in any of my foreign language classes either. Well, I never paid a whole lot of attention in most of my classes to be honest. If I had I'd probably know more about life than I did now. This way I could only separate between things I happened to know and all the knowledge I missed out on, one way or another.

Here's an example: I happened to know that I reacted allergic to pineapples. A very painful visit to the doctor's office taught me as much when I was six.

And something I missed out on to follow up on that. Because I did not know that Piña Coladas were pineapple flavored. I really should have learned that at some point though. It didn't cost much, which was nice. But price or not, I immediately noticed the mistake I made after one single sip.

I do recognize the taste of pineapples, even though I hadn't had any for years. The only time I ever tried them almost got me killed. It really did. I remember something along the lines of not being able to breathe or something. In case I ever forgot, there always remained this not very appealing scar on my neck to remind me. Enough of my coat had grown back to cover it up by now. But that didn't erase what had happened from existence.

Whatever. I did face a certain dilemma, right now. And it was mostly about the taste, along with the liquid carrying it. Both of them already made their way into my mouth. A place where they really, really didn't belong. I couldn't swallow the drink, unless I wanted to repeat the unpleasant procedure described earlier. Which I didn't. Of course not. I mean, I couldn't even afford a hospital.

I also didn't want to spit it all out onto the floor or something. That would probably be a bit disrespectful. I did order the stuff, after all. Carefully, I leaned forward, and pushed the upper end of my drink's straw through my closed lips. Then, I carefully pressed the lukewarm juice back into the straw and back to where it came from. All the time, my eyes darted around nervously, and I could only beg that nopony would catch me in the act.

Apparently, none of those present did. By the time the last trace of pineapple had left my mouth, I sat back and breathed a massive sigh of relief. Only to slam a hoof into my face right after, when I realized I just wasted three bits on something that I couldn't even use for anything. And now, mixed with some disgusting traces of body scent and saliva, I was pretty sure I didn't want it anymore, anyway. I would have given it to somepony else but I didn't think anyone actually deserved that.

Of course, fate had it that I was proven wrong again in that very moment.

Said proof trotted up to me pretty much out of nowhere. It did so in the shape of a cyan blue mare who approached me from the other end of the counter, grinning like an idiot as she did. That thing called a facial expression was probably supposed to be a smile, but I wouldn't have noticed without any second thoughts. While I told myself I shouldn't actually be surprised to find her around here of all ponies, I fought back the tendency to run away screaming with every new step this mare took towards me. That was pretty dumb of me; I should have just taken the opportunity and ran.

I couldn't even remember that pony's actual name. Back in school, everyone just called her Sonya, I think. Pretty sure her actual name did have something to do with that. Maybe I never even learned about her actual name, I don't know. I never really bothered to find out. Nopony did. Of course, no-one ever felt very compelled to find out anything about her in general.

We had our reasons to avoid her, too. Sonya had never been the brightest candle on the cake. But what she lacked in intelligence she sure did make up for in being obnoxious like hell. She never had any friends, but then again, neither did I. Not for long, anyway.

"Hey there, Berry!" I heard her say in a sing-sang voice that already sufficed to make me cringe. Also, had she really just called me by my first name? I could already feel the convulsions run through my forelegs.

"'sup?" I replied with a nod, not even subtly trying to hide my apathy. Leaning forward, I wanted to take another sip from my drink to show I wasn't up for small talk. Luckily I managed to notice the obvious mistake in that, and retracted my head just in time. Of all ponies, Sonya was among the least I wanted to give me CPR or whatever intimate bullshit would be appropriate in emergencies like these. Even after several years she hadn't yet lost that trademark stink coming from her muzzle. I could tell from a mile away.

If that wasn't enough already, she had to sit down right next to me. Of course she did.

"When did you come back? I haven't seen you in, like, forever!" She put on a corny grin, hooves gently placed in front of her on the counter. Her eyes wandered downward, and widened all of a sudden. "Oh, you've got your cutie mark! That's...fantastic, I still haven't gotten mine, you know."

Well, of course not. She probably hung out here all day long and never did anything else with her life ever. How would anyone ever find out about any sort of talent they had that way?

"How did you get that, I wonder? I mean, what have you been up to?"

How indeed? "Can't really remember," I replied with a snort. Sonya's pretentious smile vanished in an instant. Her eyes grew bigger and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Really? That's terrible!" She loved sounding overly dramatic. I didn't even mention that. "But...but you have to remember what defines you! I think I couldn't stand not remembering that!"

I sighed, my gaze wandering around the room in quiet resignation. I must have committed something really awful to deserve this.

"I don't know because I forgot," I said. Better to tell her the truth. It wasn't that much of an exciting story, anyway. "Went out drinking one night, like...like always. When I woke up the next morning, it was just there. And yes, of course I hate forgetting about it. But alcohol is one hell of a drug, I tell you. It takes your soul and body apart with all the possible strength and brutality it can muster, till there's nothing left of you but an empty shell without emotions, love or hatred. Nothing. It's killing you from the inside. And there's literally no upside to any of it."

I reached forward and pushed the pineapple drink over to her. "Want some?"

"Huh? Oh, oh yes, of course!" she squeaked, after a short moment of hesitation. "Thank you so much! Nopony is ever that nice to me."

I winced, mildly gesturing with one hoof, while Sonya sucked through the straw like it was her mommy's teat or something. Before I even noticed, the Piña Colada was half empty. As much as I tried to avoid her, this awkward silence that was only interrupted by her occasional sounds of slurping felt even worse. I figured it was me who needed to keep the conversation going. Even though it probably was a horrible idea.

"So, you're kinda holding up over here?"

"Oh, I'm doing good," she blurted out between slurps. "Pretty good, I think...uh...yeah. I mean, if you ever wanna hang out, I'm usually here all week, so..."

I waited for her to continue, but she left the sentence unfinished and went back to her drink...my drink, instead. Or to be more precise, her drink with my drool in it. I almost snorted at the thought. That wouldn't have been so good, I think. At least, I wouldn't have wanted to explain what was so funny all of a sudden.

In any case, she hung out here all the time. I should have guessed. What else was there in it for her, anyway? A loser like Sonya probably just needed this kind of pseudo-social hub to feel better about herself or something. I'm one to talk. She probably lived here, or whatever.

"But enough of me, how about you?" With some surprise, I noticed the Piña Colada to be emptied out completely as she said that. "You have to tell me everything, and I really mean everything! Maybe we can even figure out what that mark of yours means. Just like old times, right?"

"Yes, of course," I hesitantly said with a weak giggle. "Just let me take care of one little thing, first. Waiter!"

Just as I yelled the last word across the room, a teenage colt from a few feet away quickly approached me. I never saw him before, but there really wasn't much to see apart from a freckled face, a disheveled mane, and the weird uniform he was wearing. A turquoise shirt with a brightly yellow sort of scarf...thing. Really?

"You called?" he asked with a sort of childish enthusiasm.

"Yes, I did. And I'd like a fresh bottle of Neighgermeister, if you don't mind."

His eyes widened in confusion. "P-pardon?"

"One whole bottle," I repeated, more slowly this time. "Twenty-four ounces, isn't it?"

The colt arched an eyebrow. "And you don't need anything to mix it with?"

"Nope," I replied, shaking my head. "If I'm gonna go brain dead tonight, I'd at least prefer to take care of that myself."

The colt blinked a few times in confusion, then went fishing the bottle from the shelf behind him. He turned back around, and placed it down in front of me. I thanked him and immediately started unscrewing the top.

To be completely honest, I had no idea what I was doing, right then. It felt like the right thing, as well as an easy escape route, so I just went for it. To my frustration, Sonya never moved an inch, but instead kept watching me with a sense of silent fascination in her eyes. After what I just said, I'd hoped for her to just leave me in peace, I really did. And anypony but her would have gotten the hint.

Then again, Sonya never really got the hint.

There was no way out of it. I'd done it now. I pulled the bottle up to my muzzle, clenching its neck between my teeth. With one last look around, I threw my head back and wished it all to hell.