Music was thumping through the hall and Vinyl Scratch, known professionally as DJ Pon-3, was busy making the most of her first gig in Ponyville.
She was a little hazy on details on why they were having a major party in the town hall but then again when she was DJ at a gig the only three things she needed to know were where, when, what were the chances of a noise complaint.
“Thank you Ladies and Gentle-colts, you have been listening to the musical genius of DJ Pon-3. Let’s just mellow things for a turn while I go fill the Wub tank and I’ll be back to shortly to take things up a notch.”
After putting a track on that wasn’t quite her style but still a crowd favourite, Vinyl disengaged herself from her station and went to get a drink. She wasn’t allowed to get the fun kind of drink on the clock but DJing was thirsty work so she was going to get herself an apple juice and pretend it was cider.
With the ease that came with practise, Vinyl passed through the crowd unhindered and made it to the bar where Berry Punch was set up.
“Hi Vinyl.” The Bar Mare said cheerfully. “The usual?”
“Nah, on the clock.” Vinyl replied. “Just an apple juice please.” One thing Vinyl had learned was being on good terms the ones with access to booze.
“Coming right up.”
The order placed, Vinyl decided to take a moment to chill.
“Excuse me, might I have a word?”
Well so much for that
Vinyl turned the source of the voice and saw that it was a mare with a white coat and a highly styled mane.
“You are the DJ, are you not?”
“Yeah.” Vinyl replied. “Listen, I’m on a break so if you want to place a request, see me when I’m back at my station.”
“No no, it’s not a music request.” The mare replied. “My name is Rarity I just wanted to discuss with you the appropriateness of some of your songs.”
Vinyl lifted up her glasses and stared at Rarity. “Appropriateness? This is a party, how is my music not appropriate for that.”
“Well most of it is fine.” Rarity replied in what she hoped was a tactful tone. “It’s just that some of the tracks with vocals use language not fit for general public, that second last one for instance was just downright vulgar.”
“Hey! ‘Ride Her Hard’ is a classic.”
Rarity developed a look of disgust. “I would call that song a lot of things but ‘a classic’ is not one of them. Now while I am aware that there are no minors present, thank goodness, that still doesn’t mean that such language is acceptable. I would like you to keep that in mind for the rest of your song ch.... Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You look familiar,” Vinyl replied. “Did we go to school together?”
Rarity paused at the sudden change in conversation. “No.”
“Played in a band together?”
“No.”
“Were you the one that took the cupcake I was eyeing up at sugar cube corner?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Were you the one that was making out with that red stallion?”
“Heavens No!”
“Oh right, that was me.” Vinyl paused. “No wait, I just imagined it was me.” She then seemed to drift off into thought. “Mmmmmmmm....”
Rarity stared Vinyl, not sure how to respond. “Uh miss...”
“Are you a vampony?”
Rarity suddenly did a double take. “What?”
“Well you see you’ve got a white coat,” Vinyl explained. “And white coats are the first thing to look for when identifying vamponies.”
Rarity tilted her head slightly. “But... you have a white coat too.”
Vinyl paused and looked down at her fore hooves, seemingly noticing her coat colour for the first time. “Whoa. Am I a vampony?”
Rarity felt the gears in her head starting to grind. “Listen, we are, really, getting off track here.”
“Oh Right,” Vinyl replied, “You were harping about my song choices.”
“I wasn’t ‘harping’!” Rarity protested. “I was simply offering some candid advice about some questionable decisions.”
“Look, we’re all adults, what’s wrong with pushing the envelope once in a while.” Vinyl paused. “Unless...”
“What?” Rarity asked.
“I get what’s going on.” Vinyl replied. “You’re frustrated because it’s been a while since somepony pushed your envelope.”
Rarity stared at Vinyl. “What?”
“You know, licked your stamp, delivered a package, stuck a letter in your....”
“That is none of your business!” Rarity replied, clearly appalled. “and completely inappropriate.”
"I know who you are." Vinyl said in sudden recognition. "You're that snooty, uptight showmare that owns that shop shaped like a merry-go-round."
That statement hit Rarity like a sack of bricks "Snooty, uptight..." The seamstress shook her trying to focus. "Yes I do own the Carousel Boutique."
"Well Elusive..."
"Rarity."
"Whatever..." Vinyl continued. "Why don't you leave song choices to the professionals like me and I'll leave selling carnival supplies to you."
Rarity grit her teeth. "The Carousel Boutique deals in high fashion. NOT....carnival supplies."
"Really?" Vinyl appeared to be genuinely confused. "Then why is it shaped like a merry-go-round?"
Rarity seemed to develop a twitch in her left eye. "Listen, all it would take is a strongly worded letter to the Mayor to prevent you from ever being able to perform at these functions again so DON'T TEST ME!"
Instead of giving a retort, Vinyl gave solemn nod. “You’re right, as a DJ, it’s important to take feedback seriously.”
Rarity was taken aback by the sudden change in the DJ. “So you’ll rethink your song choices?”
“Absolutely,” Vinyl replied. “In fact I’ve got a song that I had only brought in case it was requested. Though, after talking to you, I think it would be more appropriate.”
With an impressive use of longer distance telekinesis and memory of her equipment, Vinyl levitated out the right record and placed it on the player. The hall was then filled an upbeat tune that made Rarity believe Vinyl had taken her seriously.
But then the vocals started.
I see you trotting round town.
With mare I love
And I'm like
Buck You!
Rarity didn't hear the rest of the song as she went into a blind (and deaf) rage.
"IT! IS! ON!!"
Vinyl was then tackled to the ground by the raging fashionista. Having the element of surprise and being surprisingly ferocious when angered, Rarity appeared to have the advantage in the scuffle.
At least until Vinyl kissed her full on the mouth.
Rarity suddenly jumped back in shock. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
“Sorry,” Vinyl replied, “I thought we were having a moment.”
“Having a moment...” Rarity repeated. “But...I criticized your music.”
“I figured you were just looking for a excuse to talk to me.” Vinyl replied.
“You called me a snooty, uptight showmare.”
“I was playing hard to get.”
Rarity looked at Vinyl in disbelief. “I tried to pummel you.”
Vinyl shrugged, “Some ponies are into that.”
At that Rarity’s mind ground to a halt. When Vinyl took a curious step forward, the seamstress suddenly ran away in panic.
“I’ve got to go!”
Vinyl developed a look of satisfaction as turned back to the bar where her apple juice was waiting for her and Berry Punch had been watching everything that had just happened.
The barmare stared at Vinyl for a moment. “So how much of that was real and how much was you just messing with Rarity?”
The DJ smiled knowingly. “The ancient war general, Sun Beam, said that ‘confusing your enemy whilst keeping your own focus is one of the greatest ways to achieve victory’.”
Vinyl shrugged when she saw Berry Punch staring at her. “Dad thought it would be good for me to read ‘The Philosophy of Combat’.”
“And so you’ve decided to apply it to DJing?
“You’ve got your ways of handling complaints, I’ve got mine.”
Before Berry could reply, a gruff stallion stomped up to the bar with a half drunken cocktail. “Miss, this Cosmopolitan is completely unacceptable, far too much lime in it. Mix it again!”
Berry glared at the stallion. “Sir, that’s the third time I’ve made you that drink and each time you’ve had at least half of it before coming back to complain.”
The stallion seemed to take offence to that. “It’s not my fault that you have the mixing talents of a half blind mule.”
Before Berry could reply, Vinyl cut in. “You’re right, this is completely unacceptable.” She slid a piece of paper over to the stallion. “Why don’t you fill out a complaints form and we’ll resolve the matter right away.”
The stallion looked down at the piece of paper. “This is just a napkin.”
Vinyl then grabbed the back of the stallions head and slammed him face first into the bar. “And now the matter’s resolved.”
Berry and Vinyl watched as the now unconscious stallion fell to the ground. After a moment the bar mare spoke.
“You know, I think ‘The Philosophy of Combat’ is meant to be taken metaphorically, not literally.”
“That would make more sense.” Vinyl replied. “Well, better not let my turntable get cold. I’ll square up my tab with you later.”
Vinyl walked off to get back to work while Berry signalled over one of the Security stallion.
“What happened here?”
Berry shrugged. “Not sure, he ordered a Cosmopolitan, next thing I know he’s laid out on the ground.”
The security guard rolled his eyes. “There’s always one.” With some effort, he managed to lift the unconscious stallion on to his back. “Come on, let’s find you a place to sleep it off.”
Author's Note
This is a bit of late entry, May has been an interesting month. I'm not sure where this idea came from, but I had fun writing it. ^ ^
When I was partway this I realised that it didn't quite have as much Lunaverse as I would have like, but rather than add something last minute that would feel taked on I decided to just commit to what I had started.
Regardless I hope you enjoyed it.
