A/N: More warnings, this time for stereotyping the Irish. I'm allowed since I'm Irish (though I've never been there, half Irish, half Scottish, teensy bit English and teensy bit Aboriginal Australian I am) and since I'm religious I don't actually drink and I never will, so I don't believe my own stereotyping myself.

X X X X

Ponyboy woke slowly the following morning. The cracks of daylight shone in, burning right through his lids and assaulting his eyes. It was oddly painful light, and it seemed to be armed with a thousand tiny needles that seemed intent on detaching his retina. Groaning, and noticing that the groan, too was painful, Ponyboy opened his eyes.

What had happened last night? All he could remember was arriving in the most wonderful house in Tulsa, being introduced to a bunch of short asses, then being dragged outside and having his head shoved in the fountain. An initiation rite, Randy had called it. He had to drink and drink until he had drunk enough of the beer in the fountain that he could breathe again. And oh, he had been happy to do it! Ponyboy suspected from his creepy ginger kid looks that he was descended from Irishmen, and the beer in the fountain sure tasted like a nice pint of Guinness. All in all, it was a most satisfying night.

His hands were wrapped around something soft, and when he looked he spied a chicken. It clucked indignantly and then flapped its wings until he let it go. How had a chicken ended up in his arms?

He sat up, ignoring his pounding headache, and realized that he was in a barn. What was even more startling was the fact that Cherry, the midget in drag, was lying in a stupor next to him.

Oh dear. He had sworn after Darry's erectile dysfunction and Sodapop's pure sluttiness that he'd treat a girl – yes, that's right, girl – right. He'd wait until marriage to screw her, because that was the gallant thing to do. And he'd make sure she reached… you know, the Big O. He had not planned on a drunken romp with a guy.

He shook Cherry a little violently. He – she – what was the PC term? – awoke slowly, with much bitching and moaning. "Cherry!" Ponyboy said loudly. "Did we sleep together?"

Cherry's eyes cracked open. "Clearly we did, honey," s/he confirmed. "But we didn't sleep together sleep together – don't worry; I'm saving myself for David Bowie."

Ponyboy remembered Sodapop's shrine to that man, and he imagined the catfight that would ensue if Sodapop and Cherry ever were to meet. It was actually rather funny.

Deciding he'd go inside in search of some Vicodin for his hangover (due to his ecstasy induced conception Ponyboy had a very high tolerance for drugs), Ponyboy stood up and ambled back to the house, going in through the back door. Edward and Jacob were sprawled on top of one another on a couch, and Edward seemed to have had a little accident with the body glitter as most of it was in his hair. Ponyboy didn't envy him the task of washing it.

He found some Vicodin and some fun looking blue pills to go with it, and he also located a good old fashioned pint glass. He made his way outside to satisfy the cravings of his Irish roots, taking the pint glass and scooping up a nice lot of Guinness from the fountain and using it to chug down the pills.

It might have been the dangerous combination of alcohol and prescription medicine, or it might have been the fact that Ponyboy was suddenly outrageously in need of something to screw, but he saw a pantomime horse coming his direction. It was blue and poorly made, looking much like the pantomime horse that had been given to Darry at his birth – Darry got a lot more presents than Sodapop and Ponyboy at birth, as nobody seemed to care about babies once the lineage to the throne was secure. But Ponyboy had no idea why old Mickey Mouse would be here, at the wonderful house of happy hallucinations.

The horse trotted up, and though the front half stopped once it reached Ponyboy, the back half seemed to want to keep walking, and a very odd amount of shuffling around occurred inside the poorly made suit.

Inside the horse, Sodapop was hissing insults at Darry. "What are you trying to do, walk up my ass? Are you really that stupid? You're lucky you're the king, or your head would so be coming off right about now!"

Darry let out a stupid sounding cackle, and Sodapop focused more on the task at hand.

Ponyboy giggled, feeling the Vicodin high kick in. "Hey, Mickey Mouse!" he yelled, waving his arms flamboyantly. "Welcome to the house of dreams!"

"Whatever!" cried Mickey Mouse. "Shut up, you stupid boy! Listen. I have come with a gift!" Inside the horse, Sodapop took the candy bar from his pocket and stuck his hand through the mouth of the horse, passing the candy bar out to Ponyboy. "Eat it, and you will become the most beautiful person in the world!" Oh, how Sodapop loved lying!

Meanwhile, Ponyboy was having an attack of the munchies. He did not suspect a thing; all he saw was a candy bar on offer, so he took it and crammed it in his mouth.

Sodapop waited for the telltale thud. When he heard the body hit the ground, he almost jumped for joy. Ponyboy would soon be dead, and it would be he who was the most gorgeoustest person in all of Tulsa!

X X X X

A/N: Not the best. Shut up. I needed light entertainment before bed; I've been having awful nightmares. So will Sodapop's plan succeed? You don't know; I might just change the ending!