Stick Figures

CHAPTER II

I had no idea where I was going, but I knew that I needed to go somewhere quiet and out of the way. That always seemed to help anypony trying to write. I realized that the only place I could go was the more... attractive parts of town. But even there, nopony would even think of leaving me alone. Every single pony there would have to say "Hi!" or something. If there was only a way around that. I shrugged it off, telling myself that I'd deal with shit as it came at me. In the meantime, I was just going to focus on getting to that part of town in one piece.

I could almost feel several ponies eying me as if I were crazy as I walked down the sidewalk in broad daylight with saddlebags on. After a bit, I began to trot to get away from the gawking bastards faster. It felt like hours before I actually managed to make it to the friendlier part of Ponyville, the part that everypony hears about. As usual it was bustling with the activity of the pointlessly happy pony folk. I sighed and continued walking in hope that I could find somepony to help me.

I kept seeing happy ponies, some were couples having a good time cuddling and sharing their lives with one another, some were small fillies and colts playing the day away as if they would never have to stop. I, however, had no remaining family and the only friend that could've helped me had kicked me out so he could fuck a mare that he probably just met. I just sat down on a bench in the park I found myself in and then proceeded to lay down on the bench, putting my bag on the ground. as I laid down on my back, my cobalt-blue mane came down over my eyes a little.

Hours seemed to pass as I laid there thinking of what to write and how. I eventually was snapped out of my trance of thought by the sound of a bow being slowly dragged across fine catgut strings. Looking at the hills positioned in front of the bench, I could see the sky was just about to fade to lightless night. There was a fantastic tune to the music, and you could tell it was improvised. I don't exactly know how to explain it, but it's just one of those things that you can sense just by hearing it.

I walked over the hills to see who in the hell was playing the whatever-it-was. Standing on top of a hill was a light gray pony with a darker gray mane standing on two legs playing a violoncello with her back turned to me. Her cutie mark was a purple treble clef. I could assume it was a mare by the body shape... not like that you perverted prick. She was somehow able to bend the joints in her right forehoof just so the bow would stay in position as she continued to drag it across the strings. Her left forehoof was on the fingerboard (what the hell's a finger?) moving to produce the sound of vibrato.

She noticed she was being watched and turned to face me. She had eyes of a grayish mulberry color. My jaw would have dropped at how the sun behind her seeped past giving the effect of a heavenly light being cast upon her, but let's face it, I'm not that much of a fan of cliché crap like that... plus, the sun was to the left of us. Once her eyes met mine... I'd say there was a connection, but it more or less just got a little awkward.

"Hello," she said in a heavy British accent. "I hope my music wasn't bothering you at all."

"Not at all, miss..." I responded, trying to remember what Big Mac taught me about talking to mares.

"Octavia Melody," she introduced herself. "I don't believe I've seen you before."

"My name is Phantom Lucifer Amon Savage The Third, but feel free to call me Phantom." I gave a small bow as I introduced myself with my full name. I felt a little stupid doing it, but I felt it necessary for some reason.

"I suppose you're wondering what this thing is?" giggled Octavia, motioning to her cello a little.

"That's a violoncello, otherwise known as just a cello," I told her. "It has catgut strings, too. Very good way to sound more professional."

Her mouth nearly fell open in shock at my knowledge. "How the hell did you know the fiber of the strings AND the full name of the instrument?!"

"Savage family men are known for having oddly differing talents," I chuckled lightly. "My Cutie Mark... is a long story." Saved myself from hours of explaining by just saying those last four words.

"I suppose you know that MY Cutie Mark is a treble clef, then?" she questioned.

"Indeed. The same clef a Viola uses."

"Yes, actually," she admitted. "What do you do?"

"I'm trying to be an author," I sighed, turning and sitting down to face the sunset. "So far, it seems like it's more trouble than it's worth."

"Well, what's the problem with it?" Octavia sat down her cello and trotted up to sit down beside me.

"My only friend kicked me out of our apartment so he could fuck somepony he probably barely knows," I huffed, remembering the offense I'd taken. "I've got nowhere to go now... and I have 10 days to finish the first few chapters to send it to Printing Press in Canterlot."

"That does seem pretty tough," she agreed. "Look, Phantom, I know Vinyl probably won't like this too much, but you're welcome to stay at me and my friend Vinyl Scratch's apartment for a while, at least until your friend stops being a twat."

I gave her a confused look. "Are you sure? You and I just met and Savage family men are ALSO known for being the most offensive ponies in all of Equestria."

"You don't seem that bad," retorted Octavia. "Besides, Vinyl is also known for being offensive and she's been my friend since we were in diapers."

The apartment was bigger than mine. It had two bedrooms and one pull-out couch (which Vinyl demanded to be left in. There was also, by some luck, a desk in one corner of the room. Vinyl and Octavia apparently used it whenever they had inspiration for new music, but now they knew that I would be using the majority of the time I was there. Other than that, there wasn't much. A TV, a stove, an oven, that basic kind of stuff.

The first several hours I was there consisted of the tour, which lasted all of about 5 minutes, and sitting at the desk writing whatever I could. I knew it was going to end up being grade-A crap, but that's what editing is for, right? After 2 hours, I had finally finished the first ten or fifteen pages. That was my cue to take a break. My legs gave off pain as I stood up from the chair. I walked over to the door and grabbed the jacket I had brought. "Where are you going?" said a slightly masculine yet entirely feminine voice that could only have belonged to Vinyl Scratch.

"I'm going to walk around for a while" I told her. "I need a little break after 2 hours straight of writing." Vinyl gave a small nod, her crimson-red eyes giving me a look like she was glad that she was going to have a chance to look at my stuff while I was gone. I turned and left, not keen on staying for that shitstorm. The light had totally faded from the sky, as it was now about 1:30 in the morning. It had rained all night, causing puddles to splash beneath me as my hooves gently collided with the ground over and over again.

The park a little ways away from Vinyl and Octavia's apartment was obviously empty. I slowly walked through it, watching as the raindrops splashed down into puddles of water. The raindrops joined the puddle and disappeared into it, accepted by its natural brethren. I spied a bench a little ways away from where I was standing. I sat down on it, dampening my already-soaked midnight-blue coat even further.

I sat in that spot for a good five minutes before anything happened. Suddenly, a smaller stallion with a gray coat and a soaked deep-purple mane sat down beside me. His Cutie Mark made me curious. It was a scroll of some kind, but that could mean a lot of things. "You come here on a break, too?" he said in a voice that could have only belonged to a teenager.

"How'd you know that?" I gawked in surprise.

"I come sit on this bench every couple hours for a break from my writing," he sighed. "It helps me get a better grip on what I need to write next."

"Well, that happens to be what I'm doing," I laughed. He had pretty much explained his cutie mark to me. "What're you writing?"

"I'm writing a fictional story that's been in the works for a month or so now," he told me. "What about you?"

"I'm writing an autobiography," I responded. "I've got about eight days to finish the first chunk of it so I can send it off to Printing Press in Canterlot."

"Printing Press?" the stallion gaped. "That guy's a legend!"

"I know," I sighed nervously. "That's why it sucks that I have so little time. Right now it's not that good. I might as well just call it "A Gathering Of Adverbs," and sell it on the street corner."

We both laughed at my little writer's joke and then he chimed in again. "My name's Written Script."

"I'm Phantom Savage," I said. We talked for a little while, sharing our opinions on different books and such. As soon as I brought up living with Octavia and Vinyl Scratch for a while, he freaked out. It turns out that Vinyl Scratch is some kind of a famous Disc Jockey called DJ PON-3. I had no idea, and personally, I didn't care.

Regardless, in my first day there, I had already met another writer who wasn't a bad guy. We bid each other good luck on our works and we parted ways. It was another grueling hour before I could write again. I continuously fall asleep, but wake up as soon as my horn hit the table. Vinyl came into the room after a while and noticed I was struggling with staying awake.

"I got something that can help," she smiled.

"I don't want to have sex with you, Vinyl" I said flatly.

She gave me a look like I was the ugliest thing alive, "Fuckin' no! I meant an energy drink!"

A can of silver and red floated over to me. Vinyl set it down in front of me on the desk, then quickly opened it. The can was labeled "Red Buffalo." I shrugged and picked it up with my magic, lifting it to my mouth. Taking a long drink, the carbonation burned and it tasted bitter... or was it sour? I couldn't tell honestly. The flavor was an awkward mix of the two.

"It has Taurine and Caffeine in it," she explained. "It'll get you REALLY hyper."

I slammed the can down as the last bit of it slid down my throat, burning it as it went. I shook myself a little. "It's taste alone is enough to keep you awake!" I stated, throwing the can aside.

"It's an oddly good taste, huh?"

"Yeah," I agreed, picking up the quill I had in front of me. I began writing like I never was sleepy in the first place. It took several hours before I ran out of ideas. It was at that point when I put down my quill and looked up at the clock. It was 7:30 AM. I had been writing for a solid five hours straight!

Octavia came into the room just then, her mane in a mess from sleeping. "Good morning, Phantom," she yawned. "How long have you been up?"

"For about..." I thought for a second. "Seventy-two hours or so." Octavia's mouth fell open.

"Shit, dude!" Vinyl jumped in. "You're one hard working son-of-a-bitch!"

"I think you should get some sleep, Phantom" suggested Octavia. "This can't be healthy for you."

"I've stayed up longer," I laughed. Both their jaws collided with the floor (or would have if it was physically possible.)

"HOW?!" Vinyl shouted. "I MUST KNOW THE SECRET!"

"VINYL!"

Vinyl fell to her knees and put her hooves together as if she were begging. "I have to know how to stay up so long! I'll do anything!"

"Oh, I hope this doesn't end like all the clopfic writers want it to," I thought to myself. "I don't really have a secret," I admitted. "I guess it's just a natural thing. There's nothing too special about it anyway. What's really special is what I call my "Shatter-vision."" I gave a little devilish grin.

Octavia cocked her head in confusion and Vinyl just raised an eyebrow, not moving from her begging position. I sighed in annoyance. I would write about how I explained it again, but this explanation went on for a solid two hours. Octavia wouldn't stop asking questions and Vinyl... well she just sat there gaping and occasionally gagging when I would describe an example of what happens.

"That sounds like an absolute nightmare to have!" Octavia gulped, her voice quivering uneasily.

"You get used to it" I shrugged as if I hadn't just told them that I could see it in detail from the inside when somepony had their rib break off and puncture their lung.

"So how's your work going?" Written Script asked as we sat on the same bench we had in the wee hours of that morning.

"To me, it's total shit," I grumbled. "I'd rather eat the rotten asshole of a road kill skunk than have to read that."

"Is it just because there's nothing all that interesting to write about?" he asked.

My eyes grew as wide as they could. "That's the problem..." I mumbled. "I've got eight days to do something worth writing about!"

"How are you gonna do something like that then write about it in eight days?" he questioned, not only the statement but the logic of it as well.

"I have no clue!" I stated confidently.

Script facehoofed, but I didn't notice. I was already halfway back to the apartment. It was time to brush up on the family history!