A Night to Forget

Vinyl had been, as you may have guessed, drunk. In fact, she was a bit more than just ‘drunk’; the DJ had had enough alcohol to drown a small animal. It was a wonder to Cadance that she had managed to keep conscious for the rest of the night’s activities, which consisted of dancing and stumbling (which were interchangeable throughout, both of the mares being inebriated), with the occasional trip across the room to the bar for a topup. Why they kept drinking after realising (for they had both acknowledged their lack of sobriety) was a mystery to the pair, who were regretting having ignored the colourful, flashing warnings in their heads the previous night.

After Cadance had explained some of what had happened, she realised that she was incapable of remembering their shenanigans past the happenings at the bar. She had been much too drunk to even consider filing away their nonsense for later analysis. All the princess could do was talk to Vinyl, hoping to tease some information out of the mare’s subconscious with her magical pink princess powers of love and happiness.

It failed. Love and happiness have little to do with memories, if anything at all.

After minutes of collaborative thinking and at least four more coffees each, they came up with a plan so brilliant that even Princess Twilight Sparkle would groan in confusion and facehoof to infinity, or so they thought. Their plan was, and I hope you can follow it (I’m only writing this once), to ask the club’s manager/barstallion/VIPstalker what they did (at least they knew he was watching them dance). I told you. Best. Plan. Ever.

After finishing their coffees, they slowly shambled out of Vinyl’s apartment and wandered down the stairs, trying to look inconspicuous and/or like zombies. They could have taken the lift, but they had agreed that the bad guys always use the lift and look suspicious, therefore ruling it out as an option. Neither was in any state to sneak out through the window like ninjas, and falling from the fifth floor didn’t seem like fun, so the stairs was the only other option.

They staggered out of the building and into the street, headaches causing them to flinch as the light decided it would be hilarious to blind them before their quest could even begin. Vinyl was on the verge of telling Celestia where exactly she could shove her sun, but stopped herself when she remembered who was beside her and where they were (The only reason she got away with it the first time was because the pink alicorn was asleep). It's unbecoming of a celebrity to (a) use vulgar language in public and (b) use vulgar language concerning one of the diarchs of the country in which they live, especially when (c) they're standing beside a relative of said diarch. It would also be counterproductive to (d) draw attention to both herself (a celebrity) and her companion (a princess), as doing so would slow their progress and cause frustration for the pair.

However, while they had been standing there, waiting for their cue to move, somepony in the crowd took a picture (which may or may not be important later on. I have yet to decide. Look out for it) and ran off to do something with said picture.

Eventually they got moving, making their way to the club like spies, albeit spies with pounding, light-induced headaches and obscene amounts of caffeine in their systems. After managing to walk across the street unnoticed, they stuck to the shadows (either to avoid people or the light) and walked down the wrong street for ten minutes or so. They then realised what had happened and turned around.

Things went well for the pair, neither of whom was expecting such an outcome. They managed to go quite a distance without being seen, but, as all good things must, it came to an end.

"Is that Vinyl Scratch!?" somepony shouted, eager to ruin their mission.

"I think it is!" bellowed another.

"Wow! Princess Cadance!" yelled another, completely ignoring the pleading looks of the two mares, neither of which wanted to be seen.

And so the chase began. Cadance promptly forgot that she could fly and use magic, and began galloping away from the horde of celebrity-eating commonfolk. The DJ followed, forgetting that she could use magic to assist them in their escape.

Minutes passed and the crowd only got closer, but the pair managed to reach the club and get inside in time to close the door and throw up a flimsy barricade. For some reason, the manager was still inside, sitting, waiting.

The DJ and the princess fell over and gasped for air, each wishing that they did more exercise on a daily basis (Cadance was less fit than Vinyl. Being a relative of Celestia, she had obtained her love of cake. Vinyl was in bad shape, having no real means of exercise). After regaining some mobility, Vinyl managed to stand up and, still out of breath, asked the manager exactly what had happened the previous night. The stallion just laughed and offered the two a drink, which they accepted.

It came in one glass and had a split silly straw. The mares shared looks of mild irritation and politely refused the drink. The stallion had assumed something. He had been wrong.

After the manager had disposed of the drink and its silly straw, he answered the DJ's question. He told grand tales of dancing and debauchery, of how the pair had practically payed the club's rent for the month by buying ridiculous amounts of alcohol and how they had decided to, one of them being capable of throwing some half-decent music together, dance. And dance they did.

Now, you're probably thinking 'But dancing is harmless!', and you're right. The same thought made an appearance in their minds, but they were assuming they had only danced.

Silly mares. Nopony with the amount of alcohol they had consumed would be able to avoid an awkward situation while dancing. They, having been completely 'off their faces', were no exception. Good music, good company and lots of alcohol can cause judgement to absent itself for a while.

The clubpony managed to get around to telling them what had happened. Basically, they had decided that there were better things to do than stay in the club (He had been offended, but he was too professional to say anything). They had left to pursue interesting happenings and only just managed to ask the stallion to put it on their tab. That was, as far as this story is concerned, the last important thing the club manager told them. He did ask them to inform him of the results of their search, but they ignored him.

Nopony ever cares about his wants, his needs. He's not really all that important.