The dusky-grey pegasus pushed through the crowd, guitar strapped to his back, hope on his mind. He was having a hard time getting through, and was getting extremely annoyed. The cafe looked much smaller from outside. He looked towards the back of the building, and saw a door that read 'Management'. He grinned and struggled through the throng of ponies once more.
He finally reached the end of the his trek, and got to the door. He laughed once, and knocked on the door. "Come on in." He heard. The young man opened the door.
"Mister Harrison?" He asked the black unicorn at the desk. He looked up.
"Ah, yes, yes, come in, have a seat." The pegasus obeyed. "You're the young man I talked with, correct? A Mister..."
"Fletus. Spes Fletus. And yeah, that's me." The pegasus grinned.
"So tell me, young man," The unicorn continued. "Explain to me exactly what kind of job you are looking for." "You see, Mister Harrison-"
"Call me George, please."
"Alright, George, I was hoping I might be able to get my band together and we could play here in your cafe every so-often. I've noticed here lately that almost everyone in Equestria's been so... Depressed, and I've noticed that there's not been much of any music in Equestria. I was hoping I might be able to bring a smile to everypony's face, and everything needs a place to start."
George chuckled lightly, then responded. "And how, pray-tell, would such a thing benefit me? People don't pay for smiles, Mister Fletus!" Spes laughed.
"If people like my band's music, they'll tell their friends about it, and more people will come here. In return, we'll just get paid in whatever tips people might give us."
George Harrison grinned devilishly, obviously pleased. "I could get more customers than ever... And I don't have to pay a dime?" The unicorn's grinned widened. "You have yourself a job."
.....
Days later, Spes was sitting backstage, tuning his guitar. He looked forward. In just ten more minutes, he and some of his best friends would be doing something not only to make themselves happy, but to try and please the good people at the cafe. He was glad about this, glad he might be able to help a damned land. Maybe, He thought to himself. This really is all the world needs to be Happy again. Maybe... Music really is the answer...
"Hey, Spes!" His friend, a dark grey unicorn named John Smith yelled to him. Spes turned around and grinned.
"Hey man, you're late!" He replied, standing up. He rested his guitar against the stool he had been sitting on, and turned around. "So, John, you ready for our first gig?" John nodded.
"Yes, sir! I've been looking forward to this since you told me about it, practicing hours on end every Night. I'm glad you got it." Spes Fletus nodded.
"So, John, what song should we do first?" John contemplated this a moment.
"You got any new songs? I can't think of any good openers."
Spes nodded. "Yep. Here, check out the music to it." Taking the sheet, John looked over the paper for a few moments. He liked, nodding. "Yeah, this'll get 'em started.
"You guys ready?" Harrison asked, appearing from no where. They both nodded, and Harrison called the drummer and bass guitarist over. They checked the music to the song over right quick, and nodded in approval.
The group took their positions on the small stage as the doors to the cafe opened. 2:00 PM on the dot, as usual. As people started to pile into the store, empty and dark as always, the song began.
John opened it all up with a strong, Grungey guitar riff, accompanied by a strong drum beat from Noah. About 20 seconds into the song, Spes started out with a Dark, almost Emo singing voice.
"I got, no, sympathy," He began.
"No, sympathy..."
"Don't, matter, to me! Why, can't, ya see?"
"Can't ya see..."
"I got, no, empathy!" The tune sped up, and Spes and Austyn came in on rhythym and bass.
"Apathetic Gods, of this, World, When they rise, Truth, will live!"
"TRUTH, WILL LIVE!"
"Wisdom, will be, born, in the Wake, of, Apathy!
"APATHY!"
"I, DON'T, CARE!"
John tore off into a hardcore, fast-paced guitar solo, losing himself to the sound and letting his fingers move over the strings like magic. John was truly a leader in this band, one of the most proficient of the members. Noah was a great drummer, and Spes and Austyn both did well on their own instruments, but compared to John, they were all just amateurs.
Intense energy was exploding from John's guitar with extreme strength. The solo lasted about a minute, and the regular tune continued.About 15 seconds after the end of the guitar solo, Spes began to sing again.
"Love is, fake, an I-llu-sion of, the Mind!"
"OF, THE MIND!"
"Death of, E-mo-tion! Set it, in, Mo-tion!"
"SET IT IN, MO-TION!"
"I don't, be-lieve, in, Hate,
I just, don't, give a, damn! For all, I, care, let, the Wor-ld, burn!"
"LET IT ALL, BURN!"
"Death of a, Miss-ing, Heart, Re-,birth of a, Bro-,ken Soul!"
"BRO-KEN SOUL!"
"Apathy is meant, to bring,"
"Meant, to, bring,"
"A whole, new, Tomorrow!"
"WHOLE NEW, TO-MORR-OW!"
John tore into another intense solo, radiating that same power, that same vibe, that he had before. The strength it gave was amazing, the sound it had inspiring. John was playing so fast, and so hard, his fingers bled. The others struggled hard to keep up their own beat, helping to support the solo, though it didn't need support. As the solo ended, it began to fade back into the original tune and beat.
In a softer, and yet, firmer voice, Spes repeated the first two verses with an intense strength and melifluous tone. Austyn backed up the vocals and played the bass hard, making the sound more intense than ever.
"I got, no, sympathy,"
"No, sympathy..."
"Don't, matter to, me..."
"Don't, matter, to..."
"Why, can't, you see?"
"Can't, you..."
"I got, no, empathy..."
"Oh oh, yeah, no empathy..."
"Apathetic Gods, of, this World, When they rise, Truth, will live!"
"Truth, will live..."
"Wisdom, will, be born,"
"Will, be born..."
"In the, Wake, of, Apathy..."
"Oh, yeah, Apathy..."
The song faded with a gentle strumming of the lead guitar, backed by a soft drum beat. Finally, fading into silence, the song had ended.
For several minutes the growing crowd was completely silent, stunned by the event. Finally, the silence was broken by a slow clap that soon grew much stronger, until the entire audience was clapping hard and fast, screaming and cheering until their throats were sore.
The rest of the gig went off without a hitch. Every so often, someone would throw a few bits on stage, and at the end of that song, the friends would store it away, and decide the cut later. In the end, they all went home that Night with 1,500 bits a piece.
Believe it or not, it was a good Day.
Author's Note
Yes, I did call the management pony George Harrison. Why? Idk. It was mostly because I couldn't think of a good name for him outside of anykind of mythology or that was a foreign language. So, I chose George Harrison. Got a problem with it? Good, I don't blame you. I mean, seriously, I'm surprised this even got through the mods. I just... Idk.
