Button Does the Toxic Waltz
“Hmm...” Button Mash frowned as he looked at the box he found in his parent’s closet. “ ‘8-bit’s Lost Youth’?” He cast a quick glance to the clock on the wall of their bedroom, then smiled. Plenty of time.
With an attempt at a menacing cackle, Button hefted the old box into his arms and backed out of the closet. A tiny part of him felt guilty about snooping, but he quickly silenced it. It was his Mom’s own fault, after all. She was the one that grounded him. And for what?! All he had said to Miss Cheerilee was that if she minded her own business, maybe she wouldn’t have so many gray hairs. It was the truth!
Oh, Love Tap had been upset with him. She spouted stupid little phrases like, “immature,” “rude,” and “disrespectful,” and then grounded him: no video games for a week. A week!
To his Credit, Button had tried to be good on his own. He even lasted one minute and forty-seven seconds of sitting quietly on the couch before he got bored and decided to find something to entertain himself with.
Now back in the living room, Button peeled off the masking tape on the box and peered inside. Underneath an old musty blanket were several photo albums. Cracking one open, he saw...
“Why is Dad wearing a Viking helmet?” he wondered aloud. “And... why are there two cups of cider on the horns?” He flipped to the next page to see what looked like his Mom holding some kind of glass tube filled with smoke to her lips, while Dad was standing on his front hooves atop a metal barrel, drinking from a tube attached to it. “Adults are weird.”
Shrugging, he tossed the album aside and kept digging for something more cool. Beneath yet another blanket were a bunch of old jewelry, but it didn’t look like anything he had ever seen his mom wear: a black leather hoofband with metal spikes, a necklace with some kind of skull pendant, and what looked to be a belt made of bullets.
Button was just about to call it a bust and return to his bored fate when he saw something beneath a folded leather jacket. He tossed the mottled jacket aside and picked up an old vinyl record. It puzzled him. He knew his mom was a big fan of show tunes and pop songs, but he’d never seen his dad listen to music.
The record sleeve was black with what looked like a picture of the sun in the middle. On top, in faded gray letters was the name of the band: Metallicolt. Turning it over, he saw found ponies glaring back at him, each with short cut manes save for one.
“Oh, well. Why not?” Button took the record in his mouth and trotted over to the record player in the corner of the room. He’d never cared about music too terribly before. Oh sure, he had nodded his head along with whatever his mother played, but that was more because it was something to listen to, not really because he enjoyed it. Gingerly, he removed the record from the sleeve and laid it on the player, pressing the power button and carefully placing the needle on the record. A hiss and a few pops came from the speakers as he turned the turntable on and the record began to spin. Button reached out for the volume knob, but leapt back with a yelp as the first track played.
“Gimme fuel, gimme fire, gimme that which I desire!”
Button winced at the crunching, chugging guitar riff. He sat stunned for a moment. He had never heard such a thing before. The drums came in, pounding along with a steady, yet heavy beat, perfectly in tune with the thumping bass.
His eyes widened slightly as the vocals came back, snarling with such force that Button felt a flutter in his chest. The power of it touched something.... new inside him. Before he knew it, his left hoof began to thump against the rug in time with the rumbling music, slowly at first, but quickly growing in enthusiasm. The music built to a crescendo and a wailing guitar solo began. A smile broke out on Button’s face. He had no idea what this new music was, but he liked it. It spoke to something inside his mind, a voice he never knew he had, but one that was growing louder as he stood, transfixed by the sheer intensity of the song.
All too soon, the song ended. Button blinked, waiting for the next song to start. However, when it did, it was a slower tempo, almost laconic. He frowned. It was still good, but it just didn’t have the same power as the last song. Button turned off the machine, quickly turning back to the box. If this was just the first album...
A quick search brought another record to his hooves, and Button gasped at the artwork. Being the avid gamer he was, Button was no stranger to violent images, but what he held in his hooves was something that even made the most violent game in his collection look tame: a centaur-like figure sat on a throne that seemed to be made of bones, one hand held outstretched and leaking blood onto a tortured-looking pony that was pulling the throne through a sea of blood. Severed heads floated in the vile river, while pony bodies were nailed to the walls of whatever Tartarian cave they walked through. Flipping the album over, A quartet of what looked like reindeer with long, ragged manes smiled evilly at him, almost as if they knew some dark secret of his. On the top read Sleigher: Reigns in Blood.
Button felt a giddy feeling in his chest. If the artwork was enough to give him chills, just what would the music sound like. With a large grin, he made his way back to the record player and placed the disc on top. When the crackle and hiss of the machine came, it brought a sense of excitement, like waking up on Hearths Warming day, just knowing that loads of presents awaited.
If the crunching guitar of Metallicolt had shocked him, the rapid fire riff that exploded from the speaker all but made him jump in fright. It was so fast, Button could feel it in his teeth, but it was nothing compared to the shrieking, piercing cry that accompanied the pounding drums.
“Horsewich, the meaning of pain, the way that I want you to die!”
As the singer began to growl about such horrible things, Button began to move his head in time with the music like he had seen his mother do when listening to her pop music. However, while she would merely bob her head softly along with the mild tempo, Button’s head was whipping back and forth with fervent speed. His mane was hitting his face every downstroke, and a light sheen of sweat formed on his brow. His neck began to hurt, but he just couldn’t stop. Still bobbing... no, banging his head along with the incalculably fast music, he reached to the volume knob and cranked it as far to the right as he could.
The increased volume only fanned the flames inside of him. His ears ached, his neck was already sore, and yet this music would not let up. An electric tingle built up in his limbs, and he had to move. Had to run. Button raced over the the couch and jumped up, still banging his head. His mother had always told him not to jump on the furniture, but he honestly didn’t care at the moment. He had to move.
Button’s limbs began to flail about, his hooves and elbows flying wildly with the music. Unlike Metallicolt, this band just kept up the speed. As soon as the song had ended, another one took it’s place, just as fast, just as... brutal. Button was so entranced with the song that he barely registered when his elbow hit the lamp on the end table, sending it flying and smashing against the wall.
Hours later, a rapid pounding on the front door snapped Button out of his haze. His mane was plastered to his head, and his neck felt like it was on fire. Bruises were forming on his legs from where he had thrown himself against walls, furniture, and anything in range. He had burned through three more of his dad’s records—Cowcolts From Tartarus by Ponetera, Something Wicked This Way Trots by Iced Equestria, and Ponyslave by Iron Mareden—each played at full volume. He needed it louder, but sadly, the knob on the stereo only went to ten. Currently, a band called Megatrot was blaring out of the speakers.
“What do ya mean, I don’t believe in Celestia? I talk to her every day!”
The knocking at the front door came again, but Button ignored it. The music had awakened something in him, a tiny voice that grew louder with every crunching riff. Why should he answer the door?! That was just what society wanted him to do! He was nopony’s pawn! All his life he had done what everypony had told him to do. Cheerilee, his Mom and Dad, everypony always just ordered im around, but no more! From now on, he would—
The front door came flying open. Button whipped his head to see Miss Weathermane, the old, wrinkly pony from next door, staring at him. “What is this horrible thing you’re listening to?! Turn it down, I’m trying to listen to the news!”
Button glared right back at her. “This is the news!”
“Button Atari Mash!”
Just like that, all the youthful rebellion in him died. There, behind Miss Weathermane, stood his Mom and Dad.
Button gulped. “Uh-oh...”
“This is so not fair!”
Button laid on his bed, rubbing his now very sore rump. His mother hadn’t spanked him in years, but apparently his little comment to their neighbor was a bit too much.
“Well, you should have thought of that before you were so rude to Miss Weathermane!” Button’s mother, Love Tap, was pacing back and forth in his bedroom. His father, 8-bit, simply stood beside his bed, a curious look on his face.
Love Tap continued, “Honestly, Button, what has gotten into you lately? Mouthing off at your teachers, snapping at the neighbors, blatantly disobeying me! I told you that you were grounded, no electronics for a week, and the first time I turn my back, you not only break into your father's things, but you start blaring that... ugh, ‘music.’ Goddess, what awful racket!”
Beside Button, 8-bit chortled, but was quickly silenced by a death glare from his wife. “Eh-heh... sorry.”
She held the look for a few more seconds before looking back to Button. “Listen, sweetie, you’re not a little child anymore. You’re almost eleven! You’re getting to the age where you need to start acting more mature. Think about your future, and what kind of cutie mark you want! What do you want to do with your life?”
The words sparked that same feeling the music had. Button fixed his mother with a determined glare, and spoke with more conviction than he ever had in his young life. “I wanna rock!”
8-bit gasped and turned to the closed bedroom door with an expectant grin. Silence reigned in the bedroom for several seconds as he seemed to be waiting for somepony to burst in. After a few moments, he let out a defeated sigh and turned back to Love Tap. She simply glared at him. “And you and I need to have a long talk about when you told me that you threw those records away!” With that, she opened the bedroom door and stormed out.
After she had gone, Button turned to his dad. 8-bit was looking around chewing on his lip. He turned to Button and opened his mouth, but lowered his head. Then, he glanced around, as if checking to see if Love Tap was really gone. Seeing the coast was clear, his horn lit and he floated out a small object to Button. “Oh, no,” he said in a low voice, “I seemed to have dropped something.” With that, he turned and left the room, as well.
Button watched him leave with a puzzled look, then took in what his father had given him: a small cassette player. He opened the side and looked at the writing on the tape:
Motörhoof- Ace of Spades
Button grinned. “Metal...”
Author's Note
