All Sales Final

Sisterly Shopping

The gentle ticking of the clock was one of two sounds that drifted through the modest Canterlot apartment shared by two Princesses. On its own, Princess Luna was even somewhat fond of the noise, having been the one to trade for the elegant cuckoo clock at the Rainbow Falls Traders Exchange the prior year.

Celestia was understandably less fond of the clock, given that the item traded for it had been one of her favorite quills, a large one made with the feather of a giant cockatrice Fluttershy had found in the Everfree. Perhaps that was why she had chosen to fall asleep on the divan in the sitting room, and was now snoring so loudly that Luna was finding it difficult to concentrate on the crossword puzzle in front of her – or indeed, anything at all.

Setting the crossword down, she leaned back in the chair, sighing. What she needed was somewhere quiet. Or at least less annoyingly noisy.

Sighing again, she admitted to herself that what she really needed was a drink.

After Cadance – dear sweet, meddling, busybody Cadance – had staged her ‘intervention’ a few months ago, Luna had found herself getting queasy at the mere thought of alcohol, let alone the smell or taste. Which, of course, had been the intent of the foul remedy she’d been forced to take.

But that effect had slowly lessened, and while Luna no longer craved alcohol the way she had, the desire was still there.

A glass or two of Applejack Daniels would go down nicely right now, she thought.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have any alcohol in the house. Celestia had been so affected by the intervention that upon first returning to their apartment she had dumped all their booze down the toilet, steadfastly refusing to buy any more, a real show of willpower given her prior behavior.

But no one knew Celestia like Luna did, and she could see the signs that her prim elder sister was similarly craving at least a partial return to their old habits. However, getting said sister to admit such a weakness was a nigh-on impossibility. And Luna was loathe to admit her own temptations, lest Celestia tease her about it, hypocritical as it might have been to do so.

Another loud snore broke her train of thought. Giving up on the crossword for now, she slid off the chair to her hooves, grabbing her moonogrammed saddle bags and sliding them onto her back.

She would just go look at the liquor store. Looking didn’t mean buying, she told herself.

From the moment she pushed open the door she knew her earlier commitment would be broken. The medley of smells that filled her nose were so delightful, so inviting. Oh, how she’d missed the taste of a cask-aged bourbon, or whiskey, or even a nice port from the Prench Riviera.

“Good morning,” she said brightly to the shopkeeper.

“Uh – oh! Good morning to you, Princess.” The slight earth pony brought one hoof up to brush at his uniform, batting at imaginary dirt. “My name is Oaky Cork. Is there anything I can help you find?”

“Yes, I’ll take three bottles of Marecallan, two of Applejack Daniels, a bottle of your finest vodka for my sister, and last but most certainly not least, a bottle of Screaming Griffon, if you have it.

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “One bottle is all I have, as I’m sure you understand.”

She did: that single bottle of Screaming Griffon was most likely more expensive than the combined total of all the cheaper liquor bottles on display behind the counter…and then some.

Oaky quickly assembled the bottles on the counter near the till, his hooves efficiently tapping in their prices.

As he finished, he turned to her. “Of course, Princess, I will need to see some identification before I can sell these to you.”

She snorted, thinking he was joking, until his face made it clear he was not. “Identification? How many alicorns do you know – and how many of them are blue with magic manes?”

He managed a weak smile. “The law is the law, Princess Luna. The decree came down last month from Princess Twilight herself, with the most serious penalties attached for non-compliance. It’s her you’ll have to convince if you’d like to see it changed.”

Try as she might, she was unable to convince him to sell her the booze. She left the shop with mutterings about how he’d better not count on his dreams being pleasant for the next month, and set off for their apartment to enlist some help in her quest.

“Good day, my little pony!” The melody of Celestia’s voice was extra bright, the elder sister preparing a full charm offensive. “What a lovely store. You must work extra hard to keep it in such upstanding condition.”

Oaky smiled shyly – more than Luna might have expected, but then again ponies did love Celestia.

“And this display of goblets here, was it your idea?”

“Ye-yes, Princess. It takes a little extra skill without magic, but it’s always so pleasing to finish something with hoof power and ingenuity.”

Celestia smiled brightly as she approached the counter. “Of course it is. Work is good for the soul.”

“How-how can I help you?”

Somehow, the saccharine sweetness in Celestia’s voice grew even more sticky. “You probably remember my sister from earlier, don’t you?”

The shopkeeper flashed a nervous glance at Luna. “Of course. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to sell her what she wanted – truly, I am – but since she didn’t have any identification with her, I couldn’t, or I’d be risking my license.”

“Such an upstanding pony,” Celestia cooed, bringing one large wing around over the counter to pat the shopkeeper on the back. “But now I’m here, and so you can surely fill her order – as well as the things I will want to add to it.”

“I’ll be happy to,” he said with a smile. “I’ll just need to see your identification, Princess Celestia.”

The temperature in the store seemed to lower by a few degrees. There was now a tone of injury in Celestia’s voice as she replied, “Why, my little pony, do you not recognize me?”

Oaky looked torn. “Well, you see, Princess, as I said to your sister, it’s not a matter of recognizing you, exactly. It’s that the law requires that all ponies, even ones I know, show identification prior to a sale. Also…”

He stopped, unsure, before continuing. “Also, last week there was somepony in here who I thought was you, but it wasn’t, it was that blasted Chrysalis pretending to be you. I had to turn her away too, and I’m just glad the Guard arrived before she completely destroyed the shop.”

He glanced over at Luna. “That’s why I only have one bottle of Screaming Griffon in stock, rather than three. She drank two of them before they came to cart her off.”

Luna was aghast at the thought of so much wasted wine – she thought it would have been better to have dumped it down a storm drain than see it go down that Changeling tramp’s throat.

“And you say Twilight is responsible for this,” Celestia continued, no longer bothering with the charm.

“Yes, Princess.”

Celestia drew her wing back, annoyance marring her face. “Then I shall have to pay her a visit.” Turning to go, she waved to Luna. “Let us fly there now.”

Oaky couldn’t help it. He blurted out “Butt isn’t as big,” before he could stop himself.

The two sisters froze, then turned slowly back to look at him.

“What was that you said?” Celestia asked, the sugar tone being replaced with something decidedly more pointed.

“I..I uh…” He gulped. “It’s just that when Chrysalis was in here last week pretending to be you, her model wasn’t…uh…accurate.”

Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

“Well, it’s just that your flanks aren’t as…plush as she’d made them seem.” He forced a smile. “Clearly you’ve been working out?”

The two sisters looked at each other, then back at Oaky.

Sensing he'd offended her, but not understanding the reason, he continued, “Or…they’re still plush. Shapely! Very attractive!!”

They began to slowly advance on him.

“Oh no,” he said.

“Luna, hurry up, you know all the whisky tastes the same,” Celestia called, measuring out a stack of bits from her saddlebag.

“It does not, you uncultured swine,” Luna replied acidly, toting several bottles behind her with her magic. “Certain lot check numbers have a better bite than others.”

“After six bottles, are you really going to care about the ‘bite’?” she asked, not expecting an answer. “Anyway, you owe me 18 bits when we get home.” She began packing her own purchases away.

“Mmmmph!” a muffled voice said from near the floor.

“What’s that?” Celestia asked, looking to her side, where a nose was poking out from underneath her left flank.

“The whisky is four bits a bottle, not three. You owe him another six ,” Luna guessed.

“Mmhmm,” came the reply.

As Celestia counted out a few more, Luna stepped back to take in the scene, eyes narrowed. “Wait…I’ve seen this before.”

“Seen what?” Celestia asked.

Luna started to grin. “Sister, while your big butt has been very helpful today, I’m afraid the seat you’re currently using has been dreaming about this very scenario for the past week. It seems Chrysalis’s visit as you was very inspirational.”

Understanding dawned on Celestia’s face, and she quickly got to her hooves, turning to glare down at the red-faced Oak Cork she’d been sitting on for the past five minutes.

“How shameful of you!” she said, flapping a wing at him. “Thinking about your former ruler in that fashion. Disgraceful!” She stuck her nose in the air. “Luna, let’s go. I don’t want to be here any longer with a pervert such as this.”

With a grin that promised ample teasing later, Luna led the way out of the shop, with Celestia following, the door closing with a slam.

Oaky Cork lay there for several seconds after the door closed, too stunned to move. There had been a few moments he thought he might suffocate…followed by moments that it wouldn’t really be all that bad of a way to go out. Memorable, at least.

The sound of the door opening forced him to try to get to his hooves, and he raised his head to see who had come in.

It was Celestia once more, a dangerous smile on her face. “Me and my plush and shapely butt will be back for you when the store closes,” she said, winking before disappearing with a crack.

He stared at the place she had been for a few more seconds, then slumped to the floor with a sigh.

“It’s been too long since we got good and proper drunk,” Luna said, pushing open the door to their apartment with a hoof. “I’ll get the glasses and ice if you put on some music.”

Celestia dropped her saddlebags next to the sofa, dropped the needle on a record of light tunes, and returned to sit just as Luna came trotting in with two glasses.

“To the joys of alcohol,” Luna said, once they’d each cracked open a bottle and poured a healthy amount of their preferred libation.

“To feeling good all the time,” Celestia replied, clinking her glass against Luna’s.

The two of them drained their glasses in one go. Not having had any for a few months, they both were reduced to coughing at the burn, though Celestia handled it better than Luna did. The younger sister pushed her glass onto the coffee table while she massaged her throat with one hoof.

“Ah ah ah, use a coaster,” Celestia said, chiding her sister.

Luna looked around, spotting a large pile of unopened mail. Accustomed to having secretaries handle those things, the two were rather bad at actually opening the numerous letters they received on the regular, the novelty of mail having worn off for Luna some time ago. Levitating two large envelopes from the stack, she placed them on the table, then put her glass on top of one of them as she reached for the bottle to refill it.

Taking another heavy pull from her own glass, Celestia eyed the envelopes. “I wonder why we got two of the same kind.”

“Looked like occupant mail,” Luna said dismissively. “Some sort of official junk from the palace. Twilight telling ponies to remember to brush their teeth or something, no doubt.”

“If you say so,” Celestia said, sighing and slumping on the couch. “I missed this.”

“Indeed. Who wants to face life sober?”

Celestia nodded in agreement. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll go see Twilight about this ridiculous law of hers. We’d better save the Screaming Griffon for that, so no drinking it later tonight after I’ve gone to bed.”

Luna’s face morphed into a pout. “You’re no fun at all, Tia.”

“Work hard now…” she said, setting her own glass on top of the other envelope and closing her eyes for a moment, “…and have more fun later.”

As they slipped into an alcohol-fueled nap, the condensation from their glasses began to soak the purple envelopes serving as coasters, ruining the notes from Twilight, but not, of course, the included plastic identification cards for each of them.

Author's Note:

Screaming Griffon is a play on Screaming Eagle, a particularly expensive wine. The best vintages sell for north of $35,000 a bottle. Marecallan = Macallan. I suspect Applejack Daniels is self-explanatory.

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