Mr. Rodriguez was knocking back his 6th brew when the horse walked into the bar. "Hey. I know how thish goesh," he said to himself. "Now I shay 'Why the long… shomething." The horse walked over to the bar, and stared at the bartender.
"Hey, do you want something?" the fellow asked. *Clump* rang across the floor "Oh. I get it, one stamp for yes, two for no. Right?" *Clump*
"Okay, I'm going to point at some stuff. Stop me when I get to what you want." Said the bartender, then trailed his hand over the bottles behind the counter. When he got to the bottle of vodka, the horse stopped him. He set it on the bar, and the horse gripped it in his teeth, lifted, and chugged the entire bottle in seconds.
"You owe me 10 gold for that you know," said the barkeep. "I hope you got some deep saddlebags."
Mr Rodriguez had watched the affair from the beginning, and decided to help. He handed the bartender a platinum. "I'll *hic* take care of it," he said.
then he turned to the horse. "Hey, don't I know you from shomewhere? Windshtriker, right?" *Clump*
"Yeah, you almosht got me killed by the crazed halfling. Reshtraining order, yeah?" Rodriguez asked, smiling at the memory. *Clump*
"Weren't you with shome assho.. asshurite chick back then?" he asked, wondering what a horse would be doing in a bar. *Clump* came the response, and windstriker's head drooped. Feeling sorry for the fellow, Rodriguez continued. "Oh. That'sh how it ish. Shorry, you leave her?" *clump clump* "Oh. She leave you?"
The next response was a much more emphatic *Clump,* and windstriker put his head on the bar and squealed softly.
"You.. you wanna talk about it?" *clump clump* "Fair enough. How about another drink then? My treat." A long pause, followed by *clump*
After draining their respective next rounds, Rodriguez started to talk again. "Yeah. Mishter Jones, from work? He never reshpects me. No matter what I do he alwaysh takesh credit for it. And he never lishtens to my ideash. I realished thish jusht the other day, you know? I wash talking about a cashe with a clash action lawshuit. "Shuthern Pantheon v. Dark One" and I shaid… Oh, shouldn't talk about it. Lawyer confi.. confi.. shecret thingy. I'm boring you anyway. Shorry." Windstriker looked over at him and thought for a moment. *Clump Clump*.
"No I'm not boring you? Ish that what you mean?" asked Rodriguez. *Clump*
Rodriguez finished his story. "Thanksh. You know, I really appreciate you lishtening. You may be the only one who'sh ever done that. And you trushted me enough to hire me for the halfling. You're a good friend." Windstriker did a half snort, and nickered softly, bumping his head against Rodriguez's shoulder. Mr. Rodriguez realized deep down this was a turning point in his life. What he was about to say could never be unsaid. And to say it was to risk everything. His career, his friendship with Windstriker, his PG-13 rating. All of it. If he had had less to drink the thought would never have crossed his mind, but tonight, desperate and lonely, and talking to the only character who had ever taken him seriously he could not ignore it.
"Hey. You wanna come back to my place Windshtriker? Bet it'sh nicer than having to stay in the shtables here." There was a long pause, and Rodriguez could see windstriker thinking. He grew more and more nervous, fearing he had crossed the line. There was no way that the horse would…
The next day, Rodriguez found a horse's head in his bed. "I guess I'm a paladin now," he said. Windstriker whinnied enquiringly. "I just had a divine mount, and I'm about to try laying on hands," he explained, reaching for his bestest friend ever once more.