She Was Mine

She was mine,
She was sublime.
She was life,
She was my strife.

She was a DJ,
Her name was insane,
Yet behind the insanity
She was just DJ PON-3.

Her sound had a break, a dissonance:
But something about her struck love's consonance.
And I, the cellist of dignity
Fell head over hooves for antonymity.

But time after time, love would waver
And shiver and quake, fracture and quaver,
But yet my heart remained on its course,
An unstoppable, infatuated force.

To bar, to club, to joint, to house,
Each time quicker and lighter, like a mouse
The music was horrid, but I have to admit:
Some crazy part of me loved it.

The 'Art of Wubs' she called it one day,
After introducing herself and asking, 'you gay?'.
And appalling as the question was in reality,
I just had to admire her conciseness and brevity.

Two slaps, twice the drinks,
And a bar-side brawl later,
I found myself sprawled on a low set couch,
Watching 'The Poninator'.

Though my mind was foggy,
And any sense had since deserted me,
I was still very much awake when DJ Pon-3
Leaned over and kissed me.

It was a short affair, something timid and tomboyish,
But the intention was clear, it was to lavish.
And though I'd wonder later why she felt so too,
I smiled and said back "I love you too".

I saw a new side to things, a parallel universe
(Though sometimes I'd look at it and curse),
But yet I wouldn't trade it,
Not for anything at all.

DJ Pon-3 is annoying, clueless and rude as can be,
But there's something she holds over every other pony:
Her heart's in the right place,
Even if she's sometimes about-face.

It's all worth it, annoyance time after time,
Something proven time after time,
Though she'll always walk a narrow line...
Vinyl Scratch is mine.

The following is an 'interview' set up by Octavia Philharmonica for Vinyl Scratch. Disclaimers follow.
THE FOLLOWING TRANSCRIPTION DOES NOT CLAIM TO BE ACCURATE. THE TRANSCRIBER HAS DONE HIS BEST TO TRANSCRIBE SPEECH FROM THE RECIPIENT TO THE AUDIENCE (normal text) AND FROM THE RECIPIENT TO HER COMPANION (text in parenthesis). READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Uh...

Is this where I write? ...oh, I talk? Huh...I wonder what you did...I can? All right.

Do I have to talk in...poems or somethin'? 'Cause you wrote in them...

Oh, OK.

...oh my Celestia no way...

...that's just...

HA! I knew it! Nopony can resist my awesomely rugged charms! I mean, I've yet to find a pony who doesn't fall head over hooves in love with me.

But...I suppose Tavi's a bit different.

(Oh hey, so this is what I'm supposed to do! I get it now - HEY! Watch where you lay your hooves! My face is valuable, so don't go smackin' it like I'm some hobo on your overly classy doorstep!

...I didn't mean smack yourself.

OW! Okay, okay!)

Right, I'd suppose I'd better get on with it before she smacks me. Again.

See, Tavi's different because...well...I dunno'. I was just DJ'ing at some bar...Element's Rest or something...when I noticed her sitting at the back of the normal venue club. Normally, I'd have just gone 'huh, another snooty moron' and gone back to pumping bass.

(Hey! I said normally! Don't raise that hoof! I didn't think that, honest!)

So anyways - no, you can't slap me for that until I'm done - I thought different 'cuz I'd seen her before. Like, at all my recent gigs. I thought she was stalking me, which wasn't unusual when you had fans, but I gave her a chance. When I got a chance, I snuck away from the mix-table, and gave her my patented greeting:

"Hey, I'm DJ Pon-3! What're you doin' at the back? Come up front and go wild! This is me you're talkin' bout!"

It wasn't patented, really, because that was the first time I had ever used it. I managed to get a bit of a mumble, a surprised blink, and then more mumbling. I took that as sonething good, since by that point I'd normally been slapped. I decided to ask question 2.

"So...you gay?"

(I'm not asking you now! Don't give me that look!

...quit laughing, seriously. So I got knocked flat on my butt before, so what? Betcha' couldn't do it again!

OW! MERCY, MERCY! Just let go of my tail! And get my leg out from behind my head!

I don't care if you took Tae-kwon Pony, get off of me unless you're making a move!

...okay, I deserved THAT one.)

RIGHT SO I'LL JUST SKIP TO THE IMPORTANT PARTS.

Apparently, telling a story with your own thoughts gets you slapped. A lot.

(What are these? Questions? Ugh, as long as you don't slap me.)

OK, so Tavi' just gave me some question card...thingies...I guess I'll answer them.

'What do you hate most about me?'

...I have a feeling that's a trap, but...eh, might as well say it. She slaps me WAY too much. She says it keeps me in line, but I think she just does it to be a jerk.

(Yes, Tavi', it HURTS. Pff, you tell ME to think twice.)

'What do you like most about me?'

(Tavi', are you SURE nopony will here this? I...don't feel comfortable answering that to an audience. I have a reputation, y'know?

Well, all right... As long as it isn't STRANGERS...I guess it's fine.)

I'd have to say...well, everything besides the slapping. She's classy, so I can get into high venues, she's my own sister in a really sarcastic clone way, I do have to admit her cello sounds good.

(I am NOT telling them about Friday! Yes, I know, it was, quote from me, 'the best thing since dubstep', but nopony needs to know about the bow, the box, and the bi-

...they can hear me when I yell, can't they? Right.)

And I suppose that she's hot in her own way. Li'l bit of eye candy, y'know?

(No, not beautiful. I meant hot. It's a compliment, Octy - take it.)

Alright, last one.

'This isn't a question, but by the time you finish reading this, I'll have snuck into your room and stolen your actual thoughts, which I know you keep in your dresser. Love, Octavia.'

...

OK I GOTTA GO. DJ PON3 SIGNING OUT GOTTAGOBYE

*clunk*

(OCTAVIA! DON'T YOU DARE OPEN THAT BOOK! I SWEAR, THE INSTANT I GET TO YOU, YOU'RE DEAD. YOU WILL BE MINE.)