Vinyl and Octavia Fail to Hide Sixteen Kilos of Cocaine

by psp7master

Rating: mature
Tags: Slice of Life, Romance, Comedy
Length: 1965

Now that Vinyl and Octavia are living in Los Pegasus (finally having had the long-awaited sex), the ever-resourceful DJ lays her hooves upon eleven kilos of first-class cocaine. Octavia is not amused.

Vinyl and Octavia Failures series:
1. Vinyl and Octavia Fail to Have Sex
2. Vinyl and Octavia Fail to Hide Sixteen Kilos of Cocaine

Now that Vinyl and Octavia are living in Los Pegasus (finally having had the long-awaited sex), the ever-resourceful DJ lays her hooves upon sixteen kilos of first-class cocaine. Octavia is not amused.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-12 20:30:05 UTC

You Snort Sixteen Tons - What Do You Get?

Vinyl and Octavia Fail to Hide Sixteen Kilos of Cocaine

"Tavi, I'm home!"

Octavia put down the book she'd been thoroughly studying - How to Train Your DJ, the chapter briskly entitled DJs and You: Why Bass is Essential to Their Libido - not without making a few mental notes. Just in case. She glanced about the spacious living room, thinking about where she would set the subwoofers for tonight's... performance. Yes. That's what the cool kids call it nowadays, apparently. Even though Octavia was not a kid, and even though she was by no means cool - at least that she could agree with - she liked various metaphors for sex. If 'metaphor' is the word I want. "Vinyl, did you buy the groceries?" the cellist called out to the corridor, in hopes that her DJ was not wearing headphones.

She was: the fact became evident as the white unicorn mare trotted into the living room cheerfully, humming to herself while her Hooves [TM] headphones blasted music all about the flat - so much for the 'sound-keeping' and 'ear-protecting' technology that was claimed to be implemented in the 'phones. Octavia narrowed her eyes, prompting her marefriend to take off the 'phones. "Vinyl, dear, where are the groceries I explicitly told you about when you went out?" the cellist began in a soft, even voice; though, Vinyl could feel, from years of experience, the undertones to her mare's tone; and those weren't pleasant.

"Expli-?" Vinyl blinked. "You were naked?"

"Vinyl!" Octavia hissed. "It's not the only meaning of the word!" She paused. "Besides, we are always naked." That mare!

Vinyl smirked deviously. "Not when you're wearing socks~"

Octavia blushed. Yes, that's true... Argh. That mare. Disregarding the voice in her head that told her to wear socks more often around Vinyl, she enquired again, "Did you buy the groceries?"

"No." Vinyl shook her head. "But!" She lifted her hoof. Hehe. That sounds so much like 'butt'. Butt. Unf. "I have something better." She levitated a huge, enormous transparent plastic bag full of white powder. "Cocaine!" the DJ announced proudly.

Octavia had previously thought that it was impossible to do a spit-take on thin air. Now she realised she had been wrong. Coughing profusely, Octavia eyed her marefriend as if the grinning DJ had lost her mind. Which was probably the case. "Vinyl! What the... It's... Where'd you get it?!"

Vinyl shrugged. "Some Marexicans. The fellas are nice, albeit pretty dumb. Gave me sixteen grams at first. Sheesh." The DJ winced, placing the bag against the wall. "Can't blame them: I hear that Marexicans from Marexico are even dumber."

"Vinyl, that's racist," Octavia observed as she watched the bag carefully.

"Nah." Vinyl waved her hoof in the air. "If I were calling zebras ziggas or something, that'd be racist. Marexicans are not a race. They're a nation." She pondered. "A nation that makes damn good cocaine, from what I hear."

"Vinyl, that's... sixteen kilos of cocaine. Why would you- ugh." The rational part of Octavia's brain went on strike, refusing to work so long as Vinyl was the case. "You do realise it's at least illegal, right?"

Vinyl blinked. "I thought drugs were legal in Los Pegasus," she said carefully.

Octavia groaned. "Weed, Vinyl. Weed is legal here, not cocaine!"

"Oh." Vinyl pondered. "Stupid pegasi, not legalising cocaine."

Octavia winced. "Vinyl, now that's really racist."

"Yeah, well." Vinyl pouted, crossing her hooves. "Guess you'll have to have sex with a racist then."

Octavia mused over the possibility. Finally, she admitted, with a sigh, "Well, I certainly don't mind."

"Good." Vinyl looked at the bag. "Good."

A few minutes of silence followed, both mares looking at the bag containing sixteen kilos of high-quality Marexican cocaine.

"Vinyl, where have you got this idea from?!" Octavia snapped finally, unable to hold it any longer.

Vinyl lowered her head, mumbling, "Fear and Loathing in Las Pegas. The book, not the film."

Octavia blinked in surprise. "You... Read books?" You... can read?

Vinyl's face shone with fake, yet righteous, irritation. "You know, if I'm a DJ, that doesn't mean I read just the manuals for my turntables!"

The cellist blinked once again. Wut. "Your... erm, instruments have manuals packed with them?" she wondered, choosing the wording carefully, lest she offend her DJ, whose profession she still perceived as music mockery. "Never tell a DJ that they are not true musicians," she recalled from the book. "Even if it is entirely true. Because it is."

"Of course!" Vinyl eyed her mare carefully. "Didn't your cello come with a manual?"

Octavia's eye twitched. She seriously considered seeing a psychiatrist: this was beginning to evolve into a neurosis. "Vinyl, I studied for five years in music school and then six years in uni to perfect my-"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Vinyl waved her hooves in the air. Sheesh. Seems we've got a badass here. "Tavi, chill. Take that cello stick out of your flank." Though, that might be a kinky- ah! No, brain! Stahp. What are you doing, brain. Stahp.

"It's called a bow." Octavia huffed indignantly, turning her head away sharply.

"Taaaavi~" Vinyl approached her mare and placed her front hooves on the grey shoulders, massaging the tension out of them. "You need to chill~" She levitated the bag towards the cellist. "Here, let's snort up some cocaine and chill like chilly chillers, mmhm?"

Octavia seriously considered that for a moment. It wasn't like she was new to the concept of drugs: the Music Faculty, after all, had been the primary source of all illegal substances in Canterlot - it was that she didn't feel snorting cocaine was a good idea. I hear that ponies stuff it up- nah, there're dildos for that.

So, Octavia seriously considered doing some cocaine with her marefriend - up until the moment the doorbell rang ominously. The cellist jerked up in fear. "Vinyl!" she hissed violently. "Hide the bag! Now!" With that intruction, she trotted off to get the door.

In the doorway stood the fear of her generation - every generation; the paragon of justice; the enforcer of the law and all that's right and holy in the world. "Hello, Miss!" the policepony greeted a very pale Octavia.

"h-h-h-Hello!" the cellist yelped meekly, backing down. How- How did he know?! He must be here to arrest us! "H-h-how can I help you?"

"Oh, I'm just your neighbour, the husband of Cheery Smile!" the pegasus stallion extended his hoof, which Octavia shook dumly. That explains why I got arrested so quickly when I... erm, pushed her. Yeah. Pushed. "May I come in?"

"O-of course!" You're a damn policepony! You can come in wherever you want... Octavia ceased to stammer as her brain processed the possible implications of that trail of thought. "Just-"

But the pegasus had already trotted in, placing his cap on the little table by the drawer, heading for the living room. "What. Is. This." His tone was flat and deeply unamused as Vinyl froze in the middle of the room, a bag of cocaine in her telekinetic grip as she searched desperately for a place to hide it. Alas, it was too late.

Octavia immediately chimed in, "Officer, that's just flour. Flour."

Vinyl nodded eagerly. "Yeah, flour! Want some?" She instantly scolded herself. If they started sharing with every cop they encountered, there'd be no cocaine left very soon.

The pegasus chuckled. "No, thanks. Sorry, ladies, it's just that my job-" the words froze on his lips as he fell on the floor, hit on the back of his head with a vase that Vinyl conviently dropped with force.

Octavia gasped. "Vinyl, why would you-"

"He'd find out in any way." Vinyl's eyes roamed about. "Quick. We need to hide the body before we snort up the evidence."

"Vinyl!" Octavia snapped as she neared her marefriend, stepping over the police pegasus. "He's not dead, just unconscious: he's still breathing!"

"Oh." Vinyl rubbed her chin. "Guess I overestimated myself. We still need to throw him out and snort-"

"There will be no snorting, Vincenza." Octavia stomped her hoof against the floor for good measure, the thick red carpet softening the touch. "We'll throw the bag away." Vinyl countered with Pleading Eyes. Alas, Octavia was immune to the Pleading element. "Yes, we will. We must leave now and find some river or something."

"We can throw it into the ocean," Vinyl suggested. "It's only ten kilos away."

Octavia sighed. "Yes, but it'll take us hours to get there."

Vinyl grinned levitating a set of keys. "Not with our new car!"

***

"So, let me get this straight." Octavia raised her hoof, leaning back in the passenger seat of the great red convertible. Vinyl was rushing down the street mercilessly. "You bought a car simply because you had previously bought too heavy a bag full of cocaine?"

"Uhuh." Vinyl nodded.

Octavia rubbed her temples. "Seems legit," she said finally.

In a while, the two mares reached a very secluded beach, onto which Vinyl had driven with some difficulty, given the stickiness of the sand. Vinyl quickly got out of the car, taking the bag not without sadness. Goodnight, sweet powder... Sniffing, she threw the bag away into the ocean, teary-eyed. You cost me a lot... But Tavi's opinion is more valuable to me than anything. With that, she turned round in mild, accepting satisfaction.

Only to be met face-to-face with a policepony. His brown coat was infuriating. His shades were fear-inducing. His black mane was the epitome of horror. His wicked grin was the highest evil itself. "Well, well, well, ladies. Breaking the law, are we?"

Vinyl dropped to her knees as Octavia just froze in her seat. "Officer, please! I didn't mean to! I just really really wanted to snort up some cocaine with my marefriend so that we could have really really hot and kinky sex and then some more sex all while riding out our high! I didn't mean to buy sixteen kilos!"

The policepony took off his shades. "Um." He cleared his throat. "Vehicles are not allowed at the beach. I'm here to issue a fine."

Vinyl stared dumbly as the stallion gave them a ticket. "You ought to cover that in three days if you don't want to go to court."

"That's... all?" Vinyl blinked. Still not believing her luck, she turned round and walked slowly towards the car. Off the hook! Off the hook! Off the hook!

"Wait." Vinyl winced and turned her head towards the policepony, who seemed to have realised something. "You said cocaine?"

***

"Bribery is good and I should feel good."

With that, Octavia rolled in bed into the comfort of her marefriend's hooves. "Vinyl, for once, I'm glad this city is so corrupt. I'll be praying for bribe-taking policeponies from now on. They're the best kind."

Vinyl nodded. "Sure thing. To think of that: we could've gone to prison twice in this city already. And money saved us." Octavia glared at the DJ. "Well, money and love, of course." The cellist's gaze softened. "Mostly love. And sex." Octavia nodded sagely. "Yeah. Sex, definitely. Oh!" Vinyl slapped her forehead, as if suddenly remembering something. "Totally forgot! I have a special thing for our sexy times tonight!" She levitated a small brown pouch, the kind of pouch usually used for keeping bits.

Octavia raised her brow. "Hooker role-play? Hence the money?"

Vinyl paused for a moment. "That's a good idea. We'll save it for tomorrow." She grinned, waving the pouch in the air. "Something better! I kept a pouch of cocaine, just in case!"

Octavia's eye twitched. Then again. Then the other one.

The glass shattered as the pouch flew through the window, falling onto the busy night street.