HorsesandMuchMOAR 
Gallusposting since 2019
One evening, Trouble Shoes was drinking beer at a bar. He was so drunk, that he fell asleep and slumped over.
As the bar closed, its owner Braeburn tried to wake Trouble Shoes up, but he is still in deep slumber, snoring and drooling on the floor. He tried pushing the big Clydesdale, but to no avail, as he is too heavy. Then Party Favor bounced through the door, and in his wall-eyed carelessness kicked Braeburn’s head, knocking him unconscious.
After several attempts to wake Trouble up, Party Favor took a can of Budweiser beer and poured it on the poor big stallion’s head. Trouble’s drowsy eyes finally opened, and he saw the pesky blue unicorn standing and smiling right in front of him.
“Hey, Clydie Boy,” Party Favor said. “Wanna go pronking with me?”
“Just my luck, I sure want to hit your stupid face with a baseball bat right now,” Trouble Shoes slurred, and then he fell back to sleep. “I would like eight cans of Budweiser plea – “ he snored.
“You better not say no,” the little unicorn replied. “Because I will make you smile so much, you’ll never cry again. And where we’ll be going, there’s gonna be lots of beer for you to drink.”
The hulking horse of a pony got up, and his ears shot to the ceiling, when that word “beer” was uttered.
“Did you say, ‘beer’?!” Trouble asked. He no longer seemed sleepy. Perhaps the desire for beer could keep him awake, until he slumps into slumber again.
“Yes, beer. And lots of it in my place.”
The blue unicorn hopped away, with a mad smile still on his miserable face. Trouble hesitated at first, but then he jumped around. As he does so, he caused an earthquake that caused many buildings to collapse, and he and Party Favor fell into the abyss of his (un)doing …
As the bar closed, its owner Braeburn tried to wake Trouble Shoes up, but he is still in deep slumber, snoring and drooling on the floor. He tried pushing the big Clydesdale, but to no avail, as he is too heavy. Then Party Favor bounced through the door, and in his wall-eyed carelessness kicked Braeburn’s head, knocking him unconscious.
After several attempts to wake Trouble up, Party Favor took a can of Budweiser beer and poured it on the poor big stallion’s head. Trouble’s drowsy eyes finally opened, and he saw the pesky blue unicorn standing and smiling right in front of him.
“Hey, Clydie Boy,” Party Favor said. “Wanna go pronking with me?”
“Just my luck, I sure want to hit your stupid face with a baseball bat right now,” Trouble Shoes slurred, and then he fell back to sleep. “I would like eight cans of Budweiser plea – “ he snored.
“You better not say no,” the little unicorn replied. “Because I will make you smile so much, you’ll never cry again. And where we’ll be going, there’s gonna be lots of beer for you to drink.”
The hulking horse of a pony got up, and his ears shot to the ceiling, when that word “beer” was uttered.
“Did you say, ‘beer’?!” Trouble asked. He no longer seemed sleepy. Perhaps the desire for beer could keep him awake, until he slumps into slumber again.
“Yes, beer. And lots of it in my place.”
The blue unicorn hopped away, with a mad smile still on his miserable face. Trouble hesitated at first, but then he jumped around. As he does so, he caused an earthquake that caused many buildings to collapse, and he and Party Favor fell into the abyss of his (un)doing …
| Trouble Shoes found himself at a drive thru. All around him are hundreds of brown and white Clydesdales, sipping and chugging bottles of Budweiser and other beer brands. In their drunken rage they threw bottles and anything they could grab their hooves on (even other Clydesdales) at a huge television screen, displaying an awful sci-fi show from the 80’s. Then a Clydesdale, wearing a birthday cake for a hat, grabbed Trouble Shoes and threw him at the TV … |
| – |
| Troubleshoes found himself at the same bar in his dream, but in the morning. The sun’s blinding rays have flooded the bar through the windows, as Philomena perched herself on his back and crowed like a rooster. He got up on his four legs, and Philomena clucked and flew away to peck at bread crumbs. He saw Braeburn, sleeping at the counter, with several bottles and cans of beer by his side. |
| “Just my luck,” Troubleshoes muttered. “What kind of night is this?” |
| (I had so much fun writing this nonsense, because Trouble Shoes is a Clydesdale, and Clydesdale horses show up in Budweiser commercials. Here is an (ir)relevant picture, for your further amusement:) |
