The Not So Interesting Life Of Linoleum.

   A hangover pounded in my head as I groaned awake in the unmistakable foul-smelling jails cells of Manehatten. I looked around to see I was in my usual cell. 'How nice of them...'

   I rose to my hooves, flinching in pain at the sudden blood-rush going from my head to wherever. I've learned to coup with hangovers. One of the many talents of an alcoholic.

   Another one would be being able to do damn near anything with a little liquid encouragement.

   With my hoof, I scratched another tally on my 'wall of fame.' This brought the grand total to 32. How I still got away with going to rehab, I don't know. Probably because I'm such good friends with the cops.

     Speaking of cops, my good ol' friend Officer Justice trotted up to my cell, baring the stale price of bread and expired juice cup every inmate gets in the morning. Sliding it through a perfectly sized slit in the cell bars, he starts asks, "Whatcha do this time, Linoleum?" His voice was as deep and gruff as ever. I always admired it...

   "Ya know, the usual. Just drinkin' for 11 again..." I reply with a smile.

   He stifles a laugh. "You better be carful. They may send you to rehab next."

   I scoff. "Yea, maybe the 33rd time they outa send me to rehab."

   He coughs. "It's really been that many times?"

   I nod.

   "Damn, if it wasn't for all the cops lovin' ya, you'd be spending your days in this cell."

   I roll my eyes. "Yea, yea. Hey, you know if all I got was public intoxication? Or did I do something stupid like pick a fight with a guard?"

   He shrugged. "I have no clue. I was off duty last night."

   I sighed. "Well, how long am I in here for?"

   He pretended to be offended. "What? Don't like hanging out with your ol' body, Justice?"

   "No, I just rather drink some more of my sorrows away."

   He rolled his eyes. "Really, you need help. I actually care about you. I feel we've grown a bond..."

   I cut him off. "Woah! I'm sorry, I'm not interested! I'm not a colt-cuddler!"

   He sighed. "Anyway, you should be out by this afternoon."

   My turn to sigh. Again. "Looks like another boring day ahead of me."

   "We can play a game, if you like." He mocked.

   "Yea, what. Cops n' robbers?"

   "Hmm, I was thinking... Cops n' alcoholics."

   "Ok, that was just terrible." I said to his word usage.

   With a dopey grin, he replied while walking away. "Worth it."

   Again, I sighed and sat on the rock hard cot, waiting to be released, once again, to come back about 12 hours later.

**********

   I was finally released, and, bidding farewell to Justice, I flew off to find my apartment in the amazing city of Manehatten.

   I use amazing lightly, as it can be. Parts of it are filled with street performers, performing acts no pony should be able to do. Parts are filled with amazing shops for everypony's daily need. Others are filled with disorientating light that, by night, turn into an art spectacle only Celestia herself could replicate.

   But other parts are filled with ponys with cutie-marks not foal friendly, gangs who will beat you for all the bits you have, and homeless ponies who only wish for a few bits so they can feed their starving foals.

   Guess which part I live in.

   I flew to the Pegasus-friendly roof and went inside the stairwell down to floor 8, where my apartment lies. I trudge to room 47, and push open the unlocked door. I never care to lock it, as there is nothing worth stealing from me. All I have is a couch, a table, a fridge, and the necklace my mother gave me before she died. The door shuts behind me as I dive only to couch, which is so much more comfortable then the prison cells' cots. I stare up into the white ceiling above me. Nothing much else to do.

   Nothing to do.

   Nothing. At. All.

   Well, time to get drunk.

********

   "Hey, what's up, Linoleum!" Rum, my favorite 'watering hole's' bartender/owner practically tells as I come sauntering into the bar.

   I take my usual seat at the bar. "Hey, don't pretend you actually like me for anything other then money." I tease.

   He put on the 'being offended' act. "Me? Just wanting you for your money? Nonsense! Besides, it's not like you have any money, and how."

   I smiled. "Yea, that's why I always get the first one on the hose, eh?"

   He sighed and pulled out the usual Apple Cider. "You're gonna put me out of business if you keep getting those freebies." He said as he tossed it over to me.

   Opening the too, I replied, "Yea, but anything for your good pal, Linoleum."

   He rolled his eyes. "But seriously, Linoleum. You need anything, come find me. It's the least I can do for you, after all you've done. You know were I always am," he said as another poor soul walked up to the bar and took a seat right next to me. "And what may I get you this afternoon, fine mare." I just realized it wasn't even 5....

   "Just a cider, thank you."

   Rum took out another identical cider to mine and placed it in front of this mare. I still haven't taken my eyes off the assortment of alcohols rum has. He has just about anything a stallion can wish for back there.

   "So, what's your name?" The mare next to me said, breaking me from my alcoholic stupor. Her voice sounded like a stuffy and sophisticated. Not the likes of ponies I enjoy.

   "Oh, uh, it's Linoleum." I answered, catching a look of this mare. Her for was grey and her hair was black. Her eyes were a shade of purple i don't know the exact name for.

   Hey, I'm not an artist...

   She raised a brow. "Do you tile floors?"

   I stifled a laugh. "Nah, just what my father decided to name me. He DID work in flooring." I answered.

   "Ah. I see. It is a strange name."

   I smirked. "Yea, considering they don't use Linoleum much, anyway."

   There was a silence.

   "So," she said, breaking it was I took a sip of my cider, "what do you do?"

   "Me?" I took another long sip, "Well, I drink." I said. I heard Rum laugh from the other side of the bar.

   "Yea, it's his full-time job!" He called over.

   The mare laughed. "Well, other then drink, what do you do?"

   "I go to prison. Does that count?"

   She looked shocked. "You... Go to prison?"

   "Yup. It's been 32 times today. Just got out."

   Rum called over. "Really? 32 times already?"

   "Yup," I called back. "Couldn't believe it myself."

   Even more shocked now, she asked with a stutter, "Wh-what for?"

   "Murder," I said, deadpan.

   "WHAT?"

   "Just kiddin, no need to yell. No, I just go for public intoxication. I am a famous alcoholic. Well, at least to the police. They love me." Both metaphorically and literally.

   She calmed down after that. "So, you come here often, it seems."

   Rum answered that for me. "Every day!"

   I nodded. "Yup."

   "It, uh, seems like you got a problem." She said.

   I laughed. "Yea, everypony has problems. I can deal with mine."

   Silence.

   "So, what do you do?" I asked the mare.

   She perked up a bit. "I play Cello!"

   I raised a brow. "A Cellist, I see." She nodded. "We'll, a dabble in the violin, a bit."

   Now she raised a brow. I face-hoofed. "Sorry, I try to sound all sophisticated and what not, only to sound like a fool. I play the violin a bit."

   "Oh, I see. How long have you been playing?" She asked.

   "Since I was a foal. I don't play anymore, though. I don't have a violin anymore, you see..."

   He gasped. "That's terrible!"

   "Uh, why is that?" I asked, raising my empty cider glass to Rum, the universal phrase for a refill.

   "If a pony have a talent in music, it's terrible to take it away from them!"

   Rum came over to me with a new cider. I thanked him and replied with, "Believe me, no pony took it away from me. My stupid choices did."

   "Well, we need to get you back in the right track!" She said, getting on her four hooves.

   I, still sitting, raised a brow. "'We?' Miss, I don't even know your name. Plus, if I had any talent, it'd be gone my now."

   "Nonsense! Just look at your cutie mark!"

   Now, my cutie mark was of a darkened silhouette of a violin. But, I have come soon to realize that  it should be replaced with a beer-bottle instead.

   I also noticed her cutie-mark was of a bass clef.

   Rum interjected. "Huh. Never noticed that. Thought it'd be of a beer bottle or some sorts."

   I smiled at his choice of words. "Yea, me too."

   She took my hoof, making me almost spill my cider. "Come on! You can drink any other day!"

   Rolling my eyes and figuring I had nothing else to do, I want along with this mare who has yet to give me her name. "Fine, fine. Lemme just pay for the drinks."

   Rum put a hoof up. "Nah, no need. They're on the house."

   "Thank you! Now let's go!" The mare said for me.

   Well, not the 'let's go' part. But, ya know.

   As she was dragging me though the double doors, I finally asked, "Uh, what was your name again?"

   "Octavia," she answered.

   'And my name was odd...'

**********

   This, 'Octavia', dragged me first to a music shop. I since noticed she was sporting a collar and bow tie. Odd, but then again, I saw a stallion wearing a cape and socks out in public screaming 'Celestia is a tyrant!', so who an I to judge?

   "Hey, uh, Octavia, I don't have any bits to pay for a new violin for me." I spoke up.

   She waved a dismissive hoof as we walked in. "I can pay for you if it means getting some pony back to his special talent."

   I just rolled my eyes.

   "How may I help you?" The store counter clerk asked as she walked up to him. He was a vibrant red stallion with a dark blue mane. His cutie-mark was of a saxophone.

   "Why yes. You see, my friend here-"

   I cut her off. "Not really friend. She dragged me here and I hardly know her."

   She glared at me before continuing. "Anyway, we are looking for a violin to get SOME PONY back to his special talent."

   "Again, this is all her idea. She probably drunk or something..."

   She opened her mouth. "I only had one cider!"

   "One too many."

   She made the pouty noise mares seem to only be able to make, then turned back towards the cashier, who was holding back laughter. "We need a violin..." She stated, quick and to the point.

   "Ah, yes. We have a wide variety of them." He replied in a voice much deeper then I thought he would have.

   "Then grab the cheapest one and let's be on our way." My impatient self said aloud.

   Octavia sighed. "No, we are not getting you the cheapest one. You DO get what you payed for. Why must you be so impatient?"

   "I have a date." I answered her rhetorical question.

   "A date? With who?" She asked, not realizing I was joking.

   "My favorite stool at the pub." I answered, deadpan.

   She rolled her eyes and turned back AGAIN to the cashier/salesman. I'm starting to feel bad for him, all the crap we're putting him through.

   Again, I barely know this mare! And she's going to buy me a violin?

   At least treat me to dinner first...

   "Just... Can you please bring out a couple well made violins?" She said, her voice annoyed and strained a bit.

   "Yes, ma'am." He said, trotting off.

   An awkward silence. I could tell she wanted to speak, but didn't want to do with my 'childish' (but completely logical) antics. I just don't get mares. One moment you're having a drink with one, the next, you're at a music shop, shopping for a new violin. Crazy.

   The salesman came out, sporting three cases upon his back. Expertly maneuvering towards us, weaving between shelves of music supplies and random assortments of instruments. He finally made it to us, and set down the cases so we can see the contents inside.

   Oh, I wonder what could be inside the violin cases!

   Oh, is it an umbrella? Or a chicken? Oh, I know! It's 10 tickets to the Canterlot orchestra.

   Yes, I know, there are violins in the cases. I just though this time called for some sarcasm. Such is the messed up pony that is known as I.

   He opened the first one- a black, hopefully faux leather case- to reveal a high grade, but fairly ordinary violin. I grabbed it from the neck.

   I do have to admit, it is great to have the feel of a violin again. I handled it as a violin should, and grabbed the bow.

   "Now, I haven't played in awhile, so cover your ears," I warned before I started playing.

   I started off rough, missing every other note. But soon, I got engulfed in the spirit of music, per se. I played my 'fiddle' fast, and I played it loud.

   I really didn't care who listened. I haven't played this in awhile, and it felt good to finally. My eyes were closed as I played away. I wasn't playing a melody, something you learn from a teacher. No, I was playing a song. A song that comes to mind when you just I with the flow of your music. I could play for hours like this. 'Freestyle-ing' music. A one instrument band, I could be.

   No, that wouldn't work. I can't sing.

   But in I played, head empty of any thought.

   But all things must come to an end.

   I felt the urge to end the song, ad when I finally did as opened my eyes, I saw a good 10 or so new ponies crowding around me, including Octavia and the salesman. I put the violin back in the case along with the bow and got back to my 4 hooves. "Uh, yea. We'll take this one."

**********

   "Why ever did you stop!?!" Octavia practically yelled in my ear. She had since payed for the instrument and we were walking on the sidewalk. She told me to continue to keep following her to where I presumed is the pub.

   I shrugged. "Again, my stupid decisions." I answered. "Plus, I'm not THAT good at violin."

   She glared at me. "That was THE BEST violin performance I've ever heard! Who taught you that song?"

   "No one." I answered. "I just sorta played."

   She looked astonished. "That's amazing! I bet you could join the famous Canterlot Orchestra with that talent!"

   "I do not want to join an orchestra. I'd rather play on the street, for free, making the ponies who walk by happier, then have them pay for the same experience."

   "Very... Noble of you."

   I shrugged. "Not sure what's 'noble'. I believe music should be shared for free. Available for everypony."

   She mumbled something I couldn't hear, then spoke louder, "You still have to repay me for the violin."

   "Hey, I never forced you to buy it."

   "Now that I know you're THAT good at it, I'm not that mad that I did. But still, I do need some form of payment." She said, as we trotted up to normal sized home, seemingly on the outskirts of the city.

   "I have no money, mind you. I usually eat free at the prison, and sleep there, too."

   She stopped. "Wait, so you have no home?"

   I shook my head.

   "That's awful!" She said. Then she got a thoughtful expression. "From now on, you are staying with me!"

   I shook my head again. "You see, there are quite a bit of problems with that. One, I have no form of payment for rent. Two, you can't force me to do anything. And three, no fucking way."

   "One, we can work something out. Two, you forget to realize I'm a beautiful mare. I can get whatever I want!" She said in a faux-rich mare attitude. "And three, yes. Fucking. Way."

   Yea, she was a bit tipsy, it seemed.

   I sighed. I'll stay the night, but tomorrow, I'm getting my ass thrown in jail again.

   "Fine." I said. "Now, I suppose this is your house?" I asked, turning towards the house I just realized seemed to be pulsing.

   "Yup." She said cheerily, trotting toward the front door. "Oh, and I forgot to mention, I have a roommate who is a tad loud."

   She opened the door and I was immediately hit with a freighting amount of 'wubs' and 'dubs' I could only make out as the 'music' called 'dun-step'. I am not a big fan of it myself, but I respect all kinds of music. I will never bash one kind of music type just because I don't find it appealing.

   I could practically see the sound waves. I could've sworn I saw little 'wubs' and 'dubs' coming from the speaker. I couldn't get a look at who was controlling this ear-breaking noise as I was being dragged into a room with Octavia. As soon as the door closed, the music stopped. 'Enchanted,' I thought. 'Has to be.'

   "Sorry about that. She tends to stay up, making her 'music' all night." She apologized. "Glad I had the room enchanted."

   I took a look around the room. I was neat. Very neat. OCD neat. A cello, the only thing thy like out of place I. This blue colored room, sat in the corner. One, queen sized mattress dominated more then half the room.

   "So," I started. "Where will I be staying?" 'For this one, and only, night.'

   "Right here!" She patted the mattress.

   ...

   ...

   ...

   "And where will you be sleeping?" I asked.

   "Right here, where I am!" The little bit tipsy mare answered. 'She must've gotten more alcohol when I wasn't with her. Wait, she was dragging me around everywhere with her. When could she have gotten that?!?'

   And let the record show I don't sleep with drunken mares. I'm not stupid, and I know they have rights. So, I responded, "Yea, no way am I sleeping in the same bed as you."

   "Why?" She asked, batting her eyelashes. "Are I not pretty enough for you?"

   I have I admit, she was pretty beautiful. But still, I will NEVER take advantage if a mare.

   "I'm sorry, I'm never sleep with drunken mares."

   "Oh, but I'm not THT drunk," she said in a sultry tone. "Besides, you don't wanna know what you're missing." She waved her very sexy ass in my face, giving me a good view of her... Parts. I kept my cool.

   I pretended to yawn. "Oh Celestia, am I tired. Let me just grab that extra blanket and sleep in the floor..."

   "I'll join you!" She quickly said.

   "No, I'd rather sleep alone."

   "Why? Afraid? With me with you, you could grab me, hold me, rub up against me. You can do whatever. You. Want." She said, backing her rear end into full view of my face.

   "Sorry, I don't like sleeping alone. When I was a foal, I was... Uh... Molested. Yea, molested from my father."

   "Why don't you show me what he did to you on my body," she said with half lidded eyes.

   'Shit!' "Uh, is that a bathroom?" I asked, pointing to the door on the other side of this medium sized room.

   "Mmmmhmmmm," she answered.

   'Great!' "Uh, I need to go to the bathroom real quick." I hastily said.

   "Hurry back..."

   I rushed in there and locked the door. I'm going to spend the night in here. In the tub. Maybe take a shower. A cold, cold shower. Yea, I need that.

   Well, at least my perfect record was clean. I'm not adding a thing to the list of why I went to jail.