...But Duct Tape is Silver

Chapters

It's Gray, and Holds You Tight
The Things We Do for Wub
Hung-up and Hungover
Rolling with the Punches
Descent into Pettiness
Planning to Fail
Truce?

It's Gray, and Holds You Tight

No, that’s not an A, that’s an A-flat. How foolish of you, Octavia. The piece is in C-minor, after all. Leaning forward ever so gently, she notated a small ‘b’ in front of the half note. With the first forty-eight measures of the composition complete, Octavia dropped the quill back into the inkwell, and began to hum the tune quietly to herself. As the melody flowed from her vocal cords, her mind supplied the trills of the flutes and the reedy pining of the oboe. Then came the slow harmony between the string bass and cello...arpegios from the violin...a slow crescendo from the french horn…and now...the crash cymbal--

SLAM

The sudden noise caused Octavia to snap bolt upright on the piano stool, wincing as the motion caused her spine to pop in several places. As she slipped off the stool and onto her hooves, Vinyl’s voice rang through the apartment and into the bedroom which doubled as a makeshift recording studio.

“Hey Octy! I’m ho-ome!”

It was a game that they played every morning, evening, night, or whenever it was that Vinyl Scratch finally got home from the insanity that she called work. She’d barge into the house, find something to make noise with, and generally demand Octavia’s acknowledgement of her existence. When Octavia would get home from rehearsal, a performance, teaching a lesson, or anything else that was generally part of gainful employment, she would enter quietly. After all, she didn’t want to pay for damages on the apartment door. Then, she would put her cello away, making sure not to wake Vinyl, who would inevitably be passed out on the couch, drooling onto the carpet.

“Oct-teeeheehee…I said I was home!” Vinyl’s head appeared around the door, glasses pushed back to reveal her wide eyes quivering gently, her lips pursed into a puckered frown.

Letting out a long sigh and capping the inkwell, Octavia turned to face Vinyl. “Did you not think to imagine that I heard you quite clearly the first time?”

“Well, I guess not, otherwise you would have said something like ‘Oh, I missed you Vinyl!’”

“That would imply that I missed you.”

“Exactly! So lets practice! Octy, I missed you. Ok! See, that was easy. Your turn.”

“No, and if you want me to make you dinner too, it’s not happening.” Octavia pushed past Vinyl to descend the stairs to their undersized kitchen. For a musician, an apartment in Canterlot was a hefty stack of bits on the first of each month, so Octavia had bothered her college friends to find a roommate. Pity Vinyl was the only one to take her up on the offer. Nosing around in one of the cupboards, she found two aluminum pots, filled them with water, and put them on the stove.

“So...ya didn’t tell me how things went with Cloverhoof last night.”

“That is correct.”

“Well, you gonna tell me, Octy?”

“No.”

“Ah c'mon! I told you everything about my date with Half Tone! How he asked me out with sign language over the sheer noise of my set, how we got smashed, came back here, bucked all night long--”

“Yes! I remember! I’m still trying to forget the noises you two made, so will you just hush and let me cook?”

“--and actually, there is one thing I forgot. When we first got back, we were impatient and hungry, so we started rutting on the kitchen floor.”

Like a filly diving for the cookies, Octavia barreled onto the carpet. Once safe, she glared at Vinyl, who was rolling around on that same tile, shaking with laughter.

“You might think this is funny, but now you’re going to have to shower before I’ll let you back over here.”

“Oh relax, Octy, I mopped before you got up. So what’s for dinner?”

“Something you can’t pronounce.” Octavia drew a bag of gnocchi from a drawer and emptied it into the first pot. Into the second went a dry mix of herbs and spices. A culinary cop-out for sure, but it beat eating hayfries.

“Well, if I can’t talk about the food, why don’t you tell me about more about Cloverhoof?”

“I said no.” Octavia gave the spices another stir.

“Well there was a really nice sunset last night…”

“Vinyl, that’s enough.”

“Which means you probably made out…”

“Shut. Up.” Octavia reached into the ‘junk’ drawer. All the mess of pens, paper pads, coupons, and miscellaneous items from around the house wound up there--including one roll of duct tape.

“And I’m guessing as far as the base analogy goes, you got to--”

Octavia tackled Vinyl to the floor and shoved her legs out of the way. Confident that the unicorn wouldn’t be able to fight back, she pressed Vinyl’s hind legs together and wrapped them several times with the dark gray tape.

“What the hell, Octy?!” Vinyl kicked twice more, but to no avail. Octavia was a bigger pony than Vinyl to begin with, and her earth pony strength was more than enough to finish something she’d been craving for a long time now. While Vinyl begged, Octavia taped her forelegs together, and then both sets to each other. Now completely immobilized, it was foal’s play to gently apply a few layers around Vinyl’s mouth while leaving the nose clear to breath.

Sweet silence. Well, aside from the constant ‘mrmm-mrrrm’ of Vinyl’s useless blabber, but that was as close as Octavia thought she was ever going to get. She picked up her roommate and deposited her on the sofa before checking to make sure the gnocchi wasn’t boiling over. Still simmering gently, the potato pasta needed a few more minutes, and Octavia began to hum her composition again. It was soothing, just knowing what it would be when it was done. Likely nothing to be remembered for, but it was her work, nonetheless.

As the crescendo neared its peak again, Octavia savored the the throaty hum echoing back at her from the walls, and how it blended with the hum from her throat. It seemed a little funny that the sound had almost taken a crystalline nature. She stopped suddenly, as the sound grew louder, and announced itself to be an aura of telekinesis. A loud ripping noise came from the living room, followed by Vinyl’s cry.

“Ow! Why’d you wrap this so dang tight Octy? Anyways, do you plan on feeding me dinner like this? Kinda kinky. And I guess that means things didn’t work out with Cloverhoof huh?”

Octavia planted her forehoof squarely on her forehead. It seemed silence would not be visiting her home tonight.

Author's Note

Just for funzies. I only thought of it because I saw the coverart. All of my roommates are such nice people that I only keep duct tape for fixing things. Honest.

Also, this is my tenth story! Woohoo!

The Things We Do for Wub

In that space, there were lights of every color, bright and flickering. Noise floated through the air, constant and enduring. Ponies moved about every which way, enjoying their night. One light was brighter than the rest, one beat was louder than any noise, and nopony was having a better night than any living creature in that club than Vinyl Scratch. There, at the center of the stage, under a bright spotlight, she stood tall. Mistress of the sound, queen of music, and high-priestess of wubs, she ruled over her domain. Yet there was something that rebelled against her dominion, a nagging, high-pitched whine. Over and over again it pulsed, louder and louder despite everything she did to cut it out. It smashed through the equipment, through the floor, and then it split apart the rafters. Bright light poured through, and the gap in the roof turned into the ceiling of her bedroom.

Vinyl looked over at her alarm clock. Eleven AM? Why in the Moon’s name did I set it so damn early? She reached over to shut it up, and stopped at the note taped over the snooze button. ‘Revenge’ had been hastily scrawled on it, next to a little smiley face with a V-brow. The thought made her grin despite her headache, and Vinyl grudgingly threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

Sitting on that bedside table was a bottle of water, and a small assortment of medication: two painkillers, and one caffeine pill. Am I always so clever at night? Why can’t it follow me to the morning? With a shrug, Vinyl popped the pills into her mouth and threw back several long gulps of water after them. After a trip to the shower, the headache was gone, and she almost felt like herself again.

Pausing to look in the mirror, Vinyl saw a side of herself that most ponies wouldn’t believe existed. There, staring her back, was a normal looking mare with her mixed blue shades of hair all wet-down. She afforded herself one little chuckle before moving on. Rubbing gel into her mane could wait until after business had been taken care of.

Two nights ago, Octavia had made fun of her, ignored her good company, and then brutally duct-taped her up. Even after cutting off most of the offending material, parts of it had to be torn. That had hurt, and taken parts of her coat with it. All around her fetlocks, and little spots around the corners of her mouth still stung from the maltreatment. Worst of all, Octavia had refused to share her supper after that, and Vinyl had been forced to cook instant noodles again for the ninth night in a row.

Such disgraces were beneath the dignity of the most famous DJ in the second poorest district in the city, and Vinyl was bent on rectifying them. The reason she had set her clock for such an early time on a Saturday morning was apparent in the empty silence filling the apartment. Octavia was out on a grocery trip, which would probably be followed by some sort of social gathering over coffee, and generally wasting a whole good morning and afternoon that could have been spent sleeping in. Such a pity.

Just like the neat-freak she was, Octavia had put the duct tape right back in the same drawer for Vinyl to find. Ten thousand malevilicious ideas found their way to her mind as she hurried up the stairs. That’s malevolent, evil, and delicious all in one incredible word. And Octavia thinks I don’t have any vocabulary.

Inside Octavia’s living space was an environment that could have served as a sterile operating room. Aside from the four-poster bed, an upright dresser, and the closed folding-doors to closet, the room was entirely clean. It would take a solid rooting through the closet to find anything worth messing with, and odds were that Octavia would go absolutely ballistic over some old dress covered in cut-out duct tape words. Just as Vinyl had managed to decide exactly what ratio of ‘slut’ to ‘easy’ that she was going to decorate the wardrobe with, she noticed the end of of Octavia’s cello case poking out from under the bed. A flash of inspiration struck like a strobe-light, and Vinyl seized the black case from its resting place.

After two trips all the way around the apartment, it was safe to say that the bottom of the stairs had the highest ceiling. Whistling merrily, Vinyl secured the case to the ceiling strand by strand. As the strain grew on her magic, the tape took more and more of the weight, until the case was secured to the ceiling. Pausing to wipe the sweat from her forehead, Vinyl paused to admire her work. It was perfect. Probably not worth taking a selfie with, but still beautiful. Absentmindedly, she ran a foreleg through her mane, and decided that it was still damp enough to gel back up. There was still a show that night, and she was going to enjoy it as much as she could to make up for the interrupted dream.

“Vinyl Scratch! You’ll be wishing that you were food for wolves when I find you! I will bury you up to your neck in a barrel of honey and roll you into a ursa den! This means war!”

Even balanced precariously on her hind legs, on top of the kitchen stool, her custom ebony cello case was out of reach. That tape would ruin the custom finish, and be a sore sight until she could afford to get it replaced. For that matter, she would have to humble herself to find a pegasus or unicorn neighbor and explain her predicament.

Muttering dark curses in an ancient tongue only understood by those who know bass clef, Octavia put the stool neatly back beneath the counter, and departed to find help. Whether that help would stop at getting her cello back, or finding revenge on the wretched roommate who had repeatedly wronged her, she had yet to decide.

Author's Note

Because you guys asked for a second chapter. You know who you are. You got it, too. Go tell your friends, your family, and your enemies (assuming they'd read it)!

Hung-up and Hungover

The only reason this is even possible is because Vinyl is such an imbecile. Octavia tried, and then failed to avoid chuckling. Even at that noise, Vinyl snored on, one leg hanging off her bed and a line of slobber hanging out of her mouth. In Octavia’s exceptionally humble opinion, Vinyl deserved the coming hangover, and the current unconscious state after last night.

At precisely eleven thirty-one PM, Vinyl had stumbled into the apartment completely drunk. Octavia had helped her to the bathroom, held Vinyl up while she vomited, and put up with the incoherent rambling that spilled from her jaw when the heaving stopped. From those pieces, Octavia had gathered that Vinyl had made the club so much money that the owner had foolishly offered the DJ drinks on the house. By the time Vinyl had drunk half of those profits away, the owner had finally thrown her out, but she still tried (and failed) to get into another pub before stumbling home. Before she managed (with Octavia’s help) to crawl over to her bed and pass out, Vinyl had made a conscious effort to deliver one more sentence.

‘Ya know...you know! I want to know! How long it took you to get your cello down? Do you know? Do you--’

At that point Vinyl slipped into unconsciousness, bound headlong toward a miserable hangover, leaving Octavia grumbling while she cleaned up the bathroom. When at long last the most odious bits of refuse were removed, Octavia turned toward her room, intent on salvaging at least a little bit of rest from the remains of her night. On the way down the hall, something caught her eye -- Vinyl’s gear bag, carelessly tossed just to the side of the front door. That was where a whole mass of cables, batteries, microphones, and other electronics lived, in lieu of a real instrument. Also stuffed into the massive bag were several sets of clothes she used for on stage performance and her set!

Inside the left pocket on the bag was a large stash of records that Vinyl kept everything on. While the particulars of DJng were not in Octavia’s repertoire, she understood that Vinyl kept them in a very particular order for a reason. That was when inspiration visited her mind, but the plan would have to wait for morning to be put into action. That night was too short anyways, and after failing miserably to catch up on the sleep Vinyl had deprived her on, Octavia paid a trip to the local record store. Armed with a number of works, to include middle-romantic classical guitar and smooth jazz, Octavia had checked once again to see if Vinyl was still asleep. That was when she’d found her roommate still snoring and drooling.

From there, it was a matter of removing all the records from Vinyl’s bag without waking the DJ up (foal’s play), and going about the work before her. She took very special care to make sure to use up the roll of tape completely by the time she was done. There would be nothing left for Vinyl to be so petty with later. Some tiny voice in Octavia’s mind told her that Vinyl wouldn’t need duct tape to pull some kind of nasty prank, and that voice was equally sure that this was only going to lead to escalation, but both of those were shoved aside. Octavia’s ‘silencing’ of Vinyl had been more or less harmless, but Vinyl’s retaliation had cost eighty bits to fix at an expert carpenter’s shop.

Those were eighty bits that had come out of her tiny pile of savings for the future. Savings that could be used to buy new strings for a future performance, a new bow-tie to impress a stallion that could be a future suitor, or even savings for a nicer place to live without a terrible roommate. Sure, buying several new records hurt that further, but it had come with the twin justifications of expanding Vinyl’s horizons, and payback.

With the morning ‘chores’ complete, Octavia turned her attention to more proper matters. There was still time in her schedule for practice, grocery shopping, and making a proper dinner before Vinyl’s alarm would go off at four in the afternoon. Slob.

Wake up, get slammed with hangover, pop pills and be on my merry way to work. I’m well on my way to the painkillers ‘n booze addiction that makes musicians famous. Vinyl finished rubbing gel into her mane as the headache slowly faded away. The realization that she was getting good at getting over hangovers would horrify the average pony, but to her it was just an item of utility. It was now Saturday, again, and it was time to make a lot more bits, rule the club, and get drunk. Her plans also had room for getting laid, especially if it pissed off Octavia. I’d recommend she try it too, but I doubt any stallion could do a prick as tight as her. There has to be a joke about having a stick up her rump in there too...

With that thought plastering a grin onto her face, Vinyl hurried down the stairs, and dug around in her gear bag until she found her shades. They were luckily still in one piece, and so she threw them on. They matched the smile nicely.

“Going to work?” called Octavia from somewhere within the depths of the kitchen.

“You know it! Time to absolve all the non-believers from their sinful wub-less ways!”

“I wouldn’t count on it, sweetie.”

“Oh, Octavia. One day I will baptise you in the name of the drum-kick, and of the bass, and the thundering wubs. Then your eyes will be opened, and you too will enjoy life.”

Not waiting for a reply, Vinyl glided through the door and threw it shut. There wasn’t any point in hanging around and trading insults when there were fans waiting to be pleased.

Author's Note

My thanks to my buddy Wingnut to editing this chapter on short notice, as well as my buddy Matt to getting to the previous chapter. I don't think I'm about to earn a butt-brand in comedy anytime soon, but here's to finding out. Oh, and if there is any doubt, we all know that Octavia is right. Vinyl is just too obnoxious to let things go.

Rolling with the Punches

Vinyl bellowed into the mic.

“And now, showtime!”

Sure, it was loud, but it wasn’t like anypony would be going home that night without a little hearing damage. Everyone, that was, except one stallion way in the back booth with earplugs. Loser. I’ll just have to blow his mind anyways. Seriously, who shows up to a dance club with earplugs?

Grinning ear to ear, Vinyl reached down and unzipped the outside pocket on her bag, and gasped. There, where the slightly worn cover of ‘Bass-Biased’ was supposed to be looking at her was the cold gray visage of duct tape. She stared for a moment, then yelled for an assistant.

“You, you there in the front! Yeah! You with the spiky green mane-do! I need to borrow your knife!”

The buck looked up at her, somewhat confused, but levitated a switchblade up for Vinyl to grasp at. Gotta love working in a crappy neighborhood. Flipping the blade open, Vinyl held it delicately above the entombed record, and gently cut along the length. The seal opened up, yielding a black disc. Vinyl held it up to read the title, but somepony had removed the label from it. Since wussing out just wasn’t an option, Vinyl threw it on the deck and braced for the worst.

At first, everything was quiet. Then, suddenly, a saxaphone blared. Ponies looked around in confusion, turning first toward the speakers, then toward their DJ who was trying to keep a smile plastered on her face. Trombones and a honky-tonk piano joined in, and soon a noon-jazz piece was floating around the room. Half instinctively, but half forced, Vinyl started to bob her head with the ‘beat’ of the music, if it could be called that. Well, there goes tonight.

Just as she was about to give up on the act, and frantically start digging in hopes that her regular records were still in her bag, a small group of ponies trotted out onto the floor, and took up a more traditional dance than was their normal fare. Vinyl stared in wonder, and then hurriedly started cutting open the rest of the records. They were also short their labels, but that wasn’t going to be an issue anymore. She watched as the dance went on for two more songs, all the while as more couples held onto each other and led one another around the floor. Then, it was time to take the stupid up another notch.

“Alright everypony, I know that was a surprise, but we’re far from done! Tonight is random-ass night, and I have absolutely no idea what we’re doing next!” Her announcement was met with a few curious glances, but most everypony else started cheering. “Who wants to find out?” Louder cheering. It's ok, I guess. I can work with this. Vinyl flipped a new record on, and held her breath.

At long last the night was winding down, and it had been both the scariest and most thrilling night Vinyl had experienced in a long time. Convincing everypony that the classical disc was ‘slow-dance music’ had been a hard sell, but everything else had gone more or less according to plan. Everypony, even those shy folks who never got up to do anything had seen some dance time. Or at least that was the gist of what the far too long-winded bar owner had been telling Vinyl for the last five minutes. He was still going on, but had finally gotten to pertinent information.

“Well, miss. I think I learned my lesson last night, and I’m gonna have to limit you to two free drinks tonight. But I’d like to offer you some kind of regular schedule here. This could work out well for both of us. Seems like there are ponies expecting all kinds of things from you here. Still, I don’t think you’ll be short of drinks if you want them. Looks like your new fans tipped nicely, and I’ve got your pay here.”

The tip jar (labeled ‘Tip yo’ DJ, she’s sexy!’) was almost a third of the way full with small gold and silver coins. Vinyl felt her jaw suddenly drop. That was more bits than she made in a week working as a waitress between show nights. It was almost enough to make up for asking Octavia to pay the entire rent last month. Coupled with the small drawstring bag that the owner had pressed into her hooves, Vinyl suspected she might also make the current month’s payment on time.

The offer of more free drinks was tempting, but the gears turning in Vinyl’s mind were pointing toward something else. It had have been Octavia who had messed up her set, and getting back at her would be difficult, and far less ironic without tape. All the stores would be closed by this hour, and she wouldn’t be able to buy more. That left just one more avenue of attack.

“I’d enjoy working here on a regular basis. Though, I was hoping you might be able to do me a favor instead of feeding me more beer.”

The stallion shrugged, and then nodded. “Sure, what can I do for you?”

“Do you have a roll of duct tape I could borrow?”

The most amazing part about getting home sober was not tripping up the three flights of stairs to the apartment. Vinyl was enjoying the feeling of no-face-smashing, but it still wasn’t as good as being totally blitzed. It was also kind of sad that she had forgotten to pick up a stallion before leaving the bar, but that would just make it easier to get up and mess with Octavia in the morning. Speaking of that mare, she was still somehow awake when Vinyl pushed the door open. Sitting next to Octavia on the sofa was a baby-blue earth buck with a chocolate mane. He was dressed in a button-up shirt and a tie, and Octavia was wearing a fine evening-gown. Their clothes didn’t have Vinyl’s attention so much as the fact that they were locked in a kiss.

“Hey! Got one for me too?” hollered Vinyl, loud enough to make them both jump. “Judging by those faces you’re making, I’ll take that as a no.”

Leaving her roommate to figure out the aftermath, Vinyl ascended the stairs, making sure to bring her gear bag with her. That lovely little roll of gray adhesive-backed plastic was wedged down inside a mess off patch cables, and would need to be kept safe until the morning.

Author's Note

I've always believed in immersion writing, and as much as I don't like jazz and EDM music, I suffered through listening to that...mess while writing tonight. Don't every say I don't love you guys.

I also feel like I'm screwing up here. I meant for neither character to be more justified than the other, but certain ponies reading this seem to be getting a different impression. On another note, I'm pretty sure 'dude-with-earplugs' was probably some OC of mine. I wore earplugs to my first metal concert. After the second, I will wear them from now on.

Descent into Pettiness

Clink. Clinkclink. Clink. Clink!

One push at a time, Vinyl wordlessly chased the handle of the spoon, forcing it around in a circle inside of the mug. The mix of Braytish cream and coffee had long since settled into a dull brown, but there was something about hitting the side of the mug that was soothing. It was probably that it sounded vaguely like the synth in a song she’d heard a few nights back, and now it was time to re-create that as enthusiastically as was possible before having consumed the coffee.

“Will you cut that out and just drink it already?!” snapped Octavia from across the table. She was holding a steaming mug of some kind of tea, and glowering at Vinyl over the toast on her plate.

“What?” protested Vinyl. “Don’t you know how I eat breakfast?”

“No, because you’ve never gotten up before noon in the last four months.”

“Well, what’s so terrible about it?” Vinyl clinked her spoon one more time, and held the grin inside as Octavia shuddered.

“Well, you’re drinking liqueur with breakfast, not eating any actual food, and making a racket with your spoon, after I’ve asked you to stop. Does that make sense to you?”

“Plenty.” Ever so daintily, the spoon floated out of the coffee to rest on and stain the tablecloth. At the sight of the caramel-colored liquid slowly spreading through the white cloth, Octavia inhaled deeply, and rose from her seat. Malice burned in her eyes, and she started to walk slowly toward Vinyl, who was shivering at the sight. Raising her foreleg high to strike, she glared down on the unworthy soul who had so deliberately enraged her. Vinyl gulped. The hoof came down -- to pick up the spoon.

Still breathing slowly, Octavia took the spoon away from the table, leaving it to rest in the sink. Not once turning back, she disappeared up the stairs, leaving Vinyl to gasp and cough. Life had just come dangerously close to bringing out a tombstone with her name on it. Further tempting that fate was not a bright idea.

The sound of the shower starting wafted down from upstairs, and Vinyl shrugged. Time to do something stupid.

Being sneaky or subtle had never really been one of Vinyl’s strong points, but right now she was stuck with trying to embrace her inner ninja. Trying to open the bathroom door with just hooves while holding up dozens of strips of duct tape via telekinesis required more fine control than she usually practiced. Once again her hooves slipped off the handle, and Vinyl huffed. She’d always been more of the pirate type anyways.

On the fourth try, the handle neatly turned, opening silently to reveal the bathroom shrouded in steam. The glass door to the shower was completely fogged up, and somewhere behind that door Octavia was humming a gentle tune. One by one, the lengths of tape settled on the shower door, adhering both to the glass and the wall beside it. At long last when they were all in place, Vinyl let out a long sigh. It was nice to not be manipulating so many objects all at once. That relief disappeared as Octavia stopped humming.

“Vinyl?! You snuck in here and…”

“No, no, no! It’s not like that!”

“Spying on me while I’m in the shower so you can get yourself off? Have you no shame at all?”

“Look, Octy, you’re about to find out why I’m here.” Vinyl backpedaled toward the hall, and picked up the bucket with her teeth, trying not to laugh and spill the contents.

“Oh for the love of goodness, if you won’t get out I will throw you out.” A tap rang out from a hoof placed against the glass, and then a second as the door bent ever so slightly forward. Despite the shoving, grunting, and gasping, it seemed that Octavia would not be getting the door open anytime soon. Vinyl set the bucket down just in time to break out laughing, while slowly lifting it up with magic.

“Vinyl, you let me out right now!”

“Naw, I think I’ll wait til you’ve cooled off a little bit.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“Octavia Melody! I hereby nominate you for the ice bu--”

The rest of Vinyl’s proclamation was cut off by Octavia’s shrieks as the bucket was tipped up over the top of the shower to release the deluge within. Most of the ice had already melted, so there was just a loud splash behind the scream. Vinyl doubled over laughing as Octavia shoved against the shower door again, still to no avail.

Author's Note

Pro-tip, if you do want to dump water on someone in the shower, use a small container, like a cup, and just go for it. Don’t try to barricade them in there. Yes I know from experience. I also happen know that is freezing, even without ice added. That is all completely unrelated to my jerk of a new roommate, I swear.

Planning to Fail

Octavia sat, feeling the cool water drip off her mane and coat to thunk on the bathtub before slowly running to the drain. She’d turned off the shower thirty minutes ago to avoid running up the water bill, and to start drip-drying as reaching her towel was out of the question. For that matter, anything outside the shower was out of reach for the time being, and finding a way out would be difficult in the pitch darkness. Vinyl apparently had the courtesy to turn off the lights before leaving.

Over that last half hour, Octavia had tried pushing up and down every possible point on the door, looking for a weak point. The tape-job had proved to be seamless. There was no way she’d even entertain the idea of climbing out, so that left two very boring options. The first would be to the run the shower for several hours on very hot, fill the room with steam, and hope that it would cause the tape to weaken. That didn’t seem very likely to Octavia, so she’d opted to shut off the water, wait for the tub to dry, then very carefully buck the metal end on the door until it opened. Trying to kick it down before everything was dry would likely result in a slip, and then kicking right through the glass on the shower.

Waiting also gave the slight off-chance that Vinyl would come back and peel away all the tape, but Octavia knew that both of them knew that she’d used up all her mercy for the day already. Having shown uncharacteristic restraint during breakfast, after being goaded over toast and cheated out of a good time with Bevel last night, Octavia really wanted very little more than some peace. It had taken all her willpower to walk away and stop to take a soothing shower, but she’d managed. Then Vinyl had waltzed in and dumped a bucket of glacial water over Octavia’s head. And here I’d hoped for an apology, or at the least neutrality.

There was exactly one good thing to be had, despite the utter humiliation of the situation. Between being unable to get out and do anything productive, barred from drying off her mane and coat, denied the chance to go and finish her breakfast, and forced to urinate in the least hygienic manner, there was one glimmer of light. Well, it was actually too dark for her to see her own hooves, but a bit of optimism that could lead to hope still graced her. There was more than enough time to plan exactly how to get back at Vinyl.

A series of drum-kicks threw Vinyl roughly from slumber, and she fell off the bed to the floor as the alarm thundered on. The yellow light of early twilight was streaming in through the window, falling on her strangely headache-free forehead as she shut the alarm off. Wait...oh shit!

Each step retraced itself as she stood up. After shutting Octavia in the shower, Vinyl had run laughing back to her room, and threw herself onto her bed until the laughing fit had passed. Then, she’d tried to decide what to do while she waited for Octavia to calm down enough to the point where she wouldn’t murder anything. At some point along the way, Vinyl realized she must have dozed off, and stayed asleep for a solid seven hours. That was a good deal longer than the ten or fifteen minutes she’d planned on leaving her roommate stuck.

Octy is gonna kill me dead. Time to let her out, and apologize very nicely. Vinyl trotted over to the door, walked right into it, and fell dazed to the floor. Stars ran crazily in every direction for a while until she sat up and frowned at the door. There hadn’t been a time in two months that it had been left all the way shut and latched, precisely for the purpose of barging through whenever a grand adventure (or trip to the bar) was about to start. Grumbling to herself, she stood back up, pushed the latch down on the door, and shoved.

It budged a millimeter, if Vinyl could trust her overactive imagination to not make that much up, and no more. Faster, and with growing desperation, she pounded on the door, accomplishing nothing more than denting the cheap wood that it was built from. My set is on in an hour, this can’t be happening to me! I know there’s some kind of poetic justice in this, but I didn’t make her miss work! I need to do this so I can eat...and drink.

Stepping back, Vinyl noticed a small scrap of paper next to her forehooves. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be one of the stationary letters that Octavia kept on her desk, and had probably been shoved under the door. Turning to hold it in the light, Vinyl read the letter with growing sorrow, apprehension, and bladder pressure.

Dear Vinyl,

If you’ve managed to find this letter, you’ve probably realized exactly how I felt for the last few hours, minus being soaking wet and left in the dark. While you may think this petty of me, and I shall certainly agree with that notion, I must say that it seems quite fitting. I can understand that it is your nature to do barbaric things such as dumping ice on a pony while she is in the shower, but locking her in is outright malicious. In the three hours it took me to get out, I missed rehearsal. In case you have forgotten, I get paid to do that. That’s important, because I need to eat too.

At this point, I see little other option than for us to come to some sort of agreement to cease this behavior. It will only escalate to the point that we destroy our property, our home, and our lives. Consider this an offer to make up, and an apology for starting it. If you do not wish to work for a better end, I’m sure you’ll be able to reach the fire escape, and get to your performance tonight.

Octavia

Dropping the letter, Vinyl ran over to the window and threw it open. The fire escape was there alright, well out of reach, and further than she’d be willing to jump for anything short of her room and tail being on fire. With a defeated sigh, she turned back toward the door and yelled for all she was worth.

“Ok, Octavia, I want to talk it over!”

From somewhere below, Octavia’s muffled reply sounded. “Fine, hold on, I’ll let you out.”

Vinyl heard hoofsteps approaching, and then a ripping noise as a long strand of tape was removed from the outside of her door. And then another, and another. The noises were high up, and slowly moving down, so Vinyl sat down to wait. As soon as she did, her eyes opened wide and she stood right back up.

“Octy, hurry! I need to pee!”

Author's Note

Second to last chapter. Here's to hoping they choose peace!

Truce?

Letting out the most satisfied sigh she’d ever released in her life, Vinyl flushed the toilet and meandered back out into the hall. That was probably saying something extreme considering the number of stallions she’d brought home, but right now she was solely proud of not having urinated on the carpet. As clarity returned to her thoughts, she realized Octavia was still waiting for her downstairs, and the coming discussion/argument/fight wasn’t going to be a fun one. Dropping a much more dour sigh, Vinyl hurried down the stairs.

Octavia was waiting in her large gray armchair with a small frown on her face. The end-table next to the chair was notably short a small glass of red wine that she normally had in the evenings. At the sight of Vinyl, she pointed toward the sofa, and then folded her forelegs together.

“Alright, Vinyl, I hope you don’t have anymore tricks planned now. I’m being serious here, and I hope we can get this all worked out shortly, so there are no more problems, and so you can be off to work shortly.”

Vinyl plopped down on the sofa and stared over at Octavia. “Nope, nothin’ but realtalk here. So what are we going to do?”

“Well, I was hoping we could just swear off pranking each other. It’s costing a small fortune in time, energy, home repairs, and duct tape.”

“You’re telling me.” Vinyl winced. “I think I spent about thirty bits on that stuff in the last week.”

“So, is that it? Can we just call it off now?” Octavia looked over at Vinyl warily.

“Yeah, it’s done. Not much fun anymore, so there isn’t any point. Shake on it?”

“Please.”

Vinyl got up, walked halfway across the living room, then lifted up her right forehoof and spat on it. Octavia made a grimace, then tried to stand up to return the gesture. As she shifted forward, some invisible force grabbed her rump and pulled it right back. Twice more she scrunched up and pushed away from the chair, only to get nowhere at all. Looking up to see Vinyl’s smiling face and outstretched hoof, Octavia’s complexion darkened.

“Octy, what’s going on?”

“I’m stuck!”

“Why...oh….” Vinyl winced.

“What do you mean, ‘oh?!’”

“Well...I might have done other things while you were in the shower. Like maybe I could have possibly put just a little two-sided tape on your chair -- in theory. Just a potential thing. You know?”

“Vinyl…” Octavia started to frown, and just didn’t stop. It turned into a visage of hatred and disgust. “You just said no more tricks.”

“Ahaha...ha...you see, I did that before I surprised you in the bathroom. I didn’t break any promise here. Seriously, I swear! We never even shook on it, because you can’t get out of the chair.” Still twisting back and forth, Octavia was thoroughly stuck in her armchair. “Oh look at you! You’re like a puppy stuck under a blanket.” Vinyl couldn’t help it any longer, and her laughter burst forth at Octavia.

“You let me up this instant!” If you don’t--”

“If I don’t you’ll what, exactly? Your stupid pride got us into this at the start. Can’t you just apologize now and call it done?”

The stream of expletives that dropped from Octavia’s mouth caused Vinyl’s to drop in turn. She slowly shook her head, and trotted over toward the kitchen. No more using trying now.

“Vinyl, I will slay you! I vow to the Sun, and to the Moon, and to my late mother that I will be the end of you! You will not know peace, you will not know rest! There will only be fear of hellfire in your mind and fear of death in your bones as you run. And when you finally meet your maker, you will spend an eternity thinking over the evil you caused and lamenting your treachery!”

Well, if I’m really going to go to hell for this, time to get my eternity’s worth. Whistling merrily to herself, Vinyl pulled open the junk-drawer. Sadly, there was no duct tape left at all. Turning instead to the cabinet under the sink, she considered her options. There was a roll of plastic wrap, and a new box of aluminum foil. Thoughtfully, she looked at one, and then the other, then made her choice.

Author's Note

So, if you do want a sequel, let me know which one Vinyl chooses below! That will her weapon of choice, and I'll decide how long she lives afterwards. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed!

-Sage