It's Always The Bassist, After All
Rainbow Dash slammed the door and sat on her chair, hiding her face in her hands. Trixie and Sonata were both quiet, as if they were afraid that the smallest noise would trigger a reaction that’d put the late Keith Moon to shame. And, unlike him, they couldn’t afford demolishing the backstage.
“What went wrong?” Rainbow Dash asked nopony in particular. “I don’t get it...”
Trixie said nothing. She was wise enough not to provoke Dash further. After all, it was her who persuaded the club owner to let them make their debut there. If Rainbow broke something, she'd never be able to talk to him again.
Sonata, however, wasn’t that wise. “I think some of them liked it...” she muttered, avoiding her new bandmates’ gazes.
“They were throwing condoms at us!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, banging her hand agains the table. “Condoms! I used to play gigs after which the whole drum kit was covered in bras and panties my fans were throwing at us... But condoms? I don’t get it. Not to mention that one of those kids first chewed the condoms and then threw them at me... What's wrong with those people?”
“Trixie doesn’t get it either,” Trixie said. “That supergroup idea was perfect... The songs were great... Just the fans were weird...” She shrugged and opened a drawer. “Do you want some peanut butter crackers?”
“Yes!” Sonata exclaimed, smiling. Dash, on the other hand, told Trixie where she could stick a peanut butter cracker.
“Calm down, Dash,” Trixie muttered. “Trixie thinks it could be the title of that song... ‘Blue Oyster’ sounds kinda peculiar... It's not the sixties and we're not hippies...”
“Exactly, why was it called ‘Blue Oyster’, Dash?” Sonata asked, munching a peanut butter cracker.
“Umm...” Rainbow scratched her head. “I thought that since we’re all blue and you’re a siren... Yes, that was definitely why I wrote that song. Hmm... Maybe people are still pissed at you, Sonata?”
“Hey!” Trixie exclaimed. “And who said that a controversial frontman would only make us more popular?”
“I said that? When?” Rainbow Dash stood up. “Are you saying that it’s my fault?”
“You said, quoting, ‘the only thing better than a controversial vocalist is a dead vocalist’. Right after you explained to Trixie that ‘Blue Ball Blues’ is about a guy who attends a New Year’s Eve Ball without his girlfriend and not about... Well, nevermind. Does Trixie has to remind you who did you use as an example?”
For a moment, they were facing each other, ready to start a fight at any moment. Sonata looked at them unsurely. “So, does it mean that I should lock myself in a garage, write a letter totally not saying that it was my wife’s fault, and shoot myself with a shotgun?”
“Yes,” Rainbow Dash muttered through gritted teeth.
“No!” Trixie exclaimed. “Trixie doesn’t want to be a new Courtn–”
“Enough!” Rainbow Dash interrupted her. She sat down, scratching her chin. “Let’s start from the beginning... The idea was perfect. Two best guitarists in Canterlot High and, after Sonata remembered how to sing, the best vocalist who doesn’t want to bite my head off, forming a supergroup. The songs were perfect. I wrote them myself.”
“Using Trixie’s riffs,” Trixie muttered, glaring at her angrily.
“Hey, I changed them.”
“Yeah, because you can’t read tabs and play at the same time, so you improvised half of the stuff. And it wasn’t good.” Trixie sighed.
“Better than yours. Lyrics were fine...”
“As long as you think that ‘fire’ and ‘desire’ is the coolest rhyme ever made,” Trixie deadpanned.
“Hey, it’s a cool rhyme!” Sonata exclaimed. “So many songs use it... Especially those Dash gave me to show me how music in this world sounds like” She started to sing, “Gimme fuel, gimme fi–” She was interrupted brutally by Trixie who smacked her at the back of the head.
“So that’s how you take care of her musical education, Dash?” Trixie’s hand connected with her forehead. “I need peanut butter crackers. A lot of them.”
“Okay...” Dash muttered. “Lyrics weren’t good, but they were good enough for an average dude who comes to a gig to look at Sonata’s tits and maybe listen to my epic riffs.”
“Trixie’s epic riffs.” Trixie exhaled loudly, giving Rainbow Dash a nasty look.
“The epic riffs of both of you,” Sonata said, looking at her breasts and squishing one of them.
“Okay.” Rainbow Dash raised her hand and started to count on her fingers. “Idea was fine, music was fine, lyrics were fine... How about the execution?”
“We were flawless,” Trixie said. “Even you, though you usually have a problem when you have to play slower.”
“It was you who wanted us to include that vomit-inducing ballad...” Rainbow Dash pointed her finger at Trixie.
“Yes, because Sonata sounds nice in it!” Trixie exclaimed. “How Trixie could know that you just can’t play anything that has less than twenty notes per second?”
“Same with the drummer,” Rainbow Dash replied. “I’d say our problem lies in the rhythm section. A propos, where are those two idiots?”
“Knowing them, they managed to get some girls anyway. Trixie would look for them in the toilets... If you really, really want to...”
“With girls, in the toilets? Why’d girls want to go to the boys’ toilets?” Sonata asked, looking at Trixie and Rainbow Dash and raising her eyebrows.
Trixie looked at her. Then she looked at Rainbow Dash and scratched her head. “Umm... Dash... To think about it... Where do little sirens come from?”
“Oh, it’s easy!” Sonata exclaimed. “When mommy siren and daddy siren really love each other–”
“It was a rhetorical question...” Trixie hid her face in her hands.
“Erotica question?” Sonata asked. “I was just getting to that...”
Rainbow Dash sat next to Sonata and wrapped her arm around her. “I’m interested... How do sirens... you know?”
“ENOUGH!” Trixie shouted. “THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE WANTS YOU TO STOP!” She lowered her voice to a bit less deafening register. “Trixie doesn’t want to listen about, umm... habits of the other species since Lyra told her that horses pee on each other before–”
“Eww...” Rainbow Dash winced.
“I like horses,” Sonata said. “I had a pet seahorse when I was a little mermaid...”
“Nevermind,” Trixie said. “Anyway, Trixie thinks it was the bassist. This guy always plays out of tune and can’t play anything complicated Trixie comes up with. He doesn’t even listen to her.”
“He’s a bassist. He hears only infrasounds,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “Besides, it was your idea to hire him.”
“Yeah, because your idea was better...” Trixie groaned. “Seriously, Dash? Borrowing a bassist from a progressive metal band? He could play in 6.5/8... Trixie never even heard of such meter...”
“It’s not my fault that you suck at playing guitar,” Rainbow Dash muttered.
“Trixie would like to remind you that you can barely play in 3/4 without slipping into 4/4...” Trixie approached Dash, her fists clenched. Rainbow Dash stood up, ready to throw the fellow guitarist across the room, when somebody knocked at the door.
“I’ll open!” Sonata exclaimed, running to the door. She pushed them open, nearly slamming a man behind it with it.
“Oh, it’s you,” said the guy who she recognised as their drummer. He sighed. “Thank you very much... Now we’re screwed, you know? All the girls say that they’re afraid of catching something from us...”
Sonata looked at him, her eyes widening. “Is it because I’m a siren?”
“No, it’s not,” he replied. “It’s because of our name...” He chuckled. “After all, people get blue when they hear that they caught an–”
“Hey, that’s racist!” Sonata exclaimed. “And what’s wrong with it?” she asked.
He looked at her unsurely. “Are you serious?”
“No, I’m Sonata. I thought you know that. After all, we’ve seen each other during the rehearsals...”
“And they say that drummers are dumb...” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing," he said quickly. "Are you okay there, girls? I think I heard Trixie.”
“Yes, we’re okay,” Sonata replied. “Trixie and Dash were about to start a fight, but we don’t need any help.”
“Take a photo,” the drummer said. “Maybe a little scandal will save us...”
“Sure.” Sonata smiled. “See you!”
“What did he want?” Rainbow Dash asked when Sonata closed the door.
“He thanked us,” Sonata replied. “And he said that something was wrong with our name. And that people turn blue when they catch something.”
“What could be wrong with our name?” Trixie asked. “That’s just our initials put together...”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Rainbow Dash said. “My initial is the last. It should be first, but you and Sonata...”
“Hey, I only said that I didn’t want the D, and you started to laugh!” Sonata shouted.
“And don’t forget that Trixie’s initial isn’t first either,” Trixie said.
“Exactly!” Sonata said. “It was a result of...” She scratched her head. “A well-thought-out... Umm... complication? Constipation?”
Trixie sighed. “Compromise,” she said. “And you call yourself Canterlot High’s student?”
Sonata smiled sheepishly. “I started only recently,” she said. “Also, that girl, Vinyl Scratch told me that she was gonna show me why they call it ‘Canterlot High’. She has some funny plant on her windowsill and said that soon it’ll be ready to hit from the bong. Do you know what does it mean?”
Rainbow Dash and Trixie looked at each other. “Umm... I think you shouldn’t hang out with her,” Rainbow Dash said. “It’s not safe.”
“Trixie, on the other hand, would go there.” Trixie gave Dash a nasty look. “Vinyl’s stuff, unlike those pills Pinkie Pie gives you is safe. Anyway, we’re talking about everything and we still don’t know why our show went down like a lead balloon... And no Led Zeppelin will come out of us, unfortunately...” She looked at the poster on the wall of their room – a large photo of them, along with “STD” written above it in large, blue letters. “Hey, Trixie doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it...”
“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash muttered, looking at the poster too. “It’s definitely the bassist. The drummer only wanted to cover his ass.”
Sonata nodded, standing between her new bandmates. “It’s always the bassist... Those guys can’t be trusted.” She shrugged. “Nevermind... Who wants a taco?”
Author's Note
For some reason, writing humans, even pony-like technicolor humans feels weird to me...
