“When you find you’ve got the musi-”
Toe-Tapper slammed his hoof down on his alarm clock. Ever since that whole episode with Fluttershy, the song had been overplayed everywhere. He had to admit, it was one of his better pieces, but he desperately wished to get it out of his head.
Great. Now he wouldn’t be able to get it out of his head for the rest of the day. It was bad enough that he was certain that he would have to stop by Barnyard Bargains to replace his alarm, but this would make this day close to unbearable. Oh well. At least his pillow was especially comfortable this morning.
Wait. Since when did he have a pillow? For that matter, since when did he have alarm clock? Due to his tight budget, he had been sleeping on his couch at night, relying on the sun to get him up. Startled, he opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling.
This definitely wasn’t his house. There weren’t any cracks in the ceiling, and the air smelled vaguely of fresh lilacs. A crushed rose was lying on the bed beside him, along with a pony-sized impression in the mattress. There were only two things that could have happened, and he was fairly certain that he was still alive.
Pinch. Nope, he was definitely alive and kicking. Well, he might as well try to figure out who he had slept with last night. No point in being a rude houseguest. He bucked the sheets off of him, and got out of bed.
Apparently last night had been a little crazier than expected. The dresser drawers were a disorderly mess, bedsheets were sprawled across the floor, and the vanity closet mirror was partially shattered. He wasn’t looking too swell, either; He could in the remnants of the mirror that he was suffering from a horrible case of bedhead.
Thankfully for him there was a comb that had avoided the chaos sitting on the vanity. He carefully made his way over to it, avoiding the pieces of glass on the floor. A blue and yellow bow tie was hanging haphazardly on frame, probably left there by him the night before. Ignoring the bags under his eyes, he picked up the comb and fixed his mane.
Good. Now he was presentable for whoever’s home he was in. Now just to make sure he didn’t leave anything important up here. He grabbed the bowtie from the vanity and scanned the room for anything else of his. Only noticing his Ponytones jacket, he picked it up and headed for the door.
‘I still don’t know whose house this is. It certainly isn’t mine, but I’m going to presume it’s somebody I know. Now if only-’
His thought process was interrupted by a large object in the hall which he tripped over. It must have been a worse fall than he knew, since a large pool of blood had formed under him. Torch Song must have taken a pretty bad fall too, since she was out cold.
That last part took a second to click in Toe-Tapper’s head. That wasn’t his own blood he was lying in, and it was unlikely that Torch Song was merely unconscious. “Oh, sweet mother of Celestia…”
The situation was significantly worse than expected, but it at least answered a few questions; namely where he was and why the mirror was shattered. Glass shards were scattered throughout her mane and scalp, with blood streaming down her head to the floor. Toe-Tapper turned away from the scene,his gag reflex kicking into high gear.
This certainly was not how he wanted to start his morning. At that point, he had essentially two choices: he could either go to the police station, file a report and get asked a bunch of questions he didn’t have the answers to, or he could run home and try to pretend that this never happened. Actually, that last option wasn’t really a choice either, since his working relationship with Torch Song most likely put him high on the suspect list and it wouldn’t be long before somepony else found the body.
Then again, he had no proof that he wasn't the one that killed her. With no recollection of the night before, it was highly possible that something had gotten out of hand and he had killed her by accident. If that was the case, then he certainly didn't want to be handing himself over to the police. If only there was some way he could get this sorted out without risking his freedom.
He glanced at his coat, which had become matted with blood. He would definitely need cleaned up before he went anywhere if he wanted any chance at not living the rest of his life out in prison. He anxiously walked away from the corpse and headed towards the only other room on the floor.
Just as he anticipated, it was the bathroom. It wasn't in much better shape than the bedroom; towels were scattered about the floor and the mirror was in poorer shape than the vanity. Thankfully for his hooves, the large majority of the fallen pieces were lying in the sink. The shower was also in decent condition; he tested the knob, and water started to pour from the shower head.
He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run down his back. Oh, how good it felt! He grabbed a bar of soap from the shelf and began scrubbing to a very familiar tune. "When you find you've got the music, got the music in you..."
Toe-Tapper stepped out of the shower, feeling clean and refreshed. He had nearly managed to forget the traumatizing events of the morning. Horsefeathers! He still hadn't decided what to do about things. He grabbed a towel off the floor and dried himself off as he reviewed his options.
If he turned himself into the police, the odds of him ever living as a free stallion again were slim to none. But where could he go where he wouldn't have to deal with this ever again? Well, he could-
His stomach gave a menacing rumble. Maybe something to chew on would help him figure things out. Plus, if he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison, he might as well enjoy one last meal before things went to Tartarus. He set down the towel, grabbed his Ponytones jacket and headed into the hall.
Much to his chagrin, Torch Song was still lying there, dead as a doornail. Afraid that he might puke, he turned away from the scene a and hurried downstairs.
Torch Song's living room and kitchen were in significantly better shape than upstairs. It was surprisingly comfy compared to his own house, with plush furniture and bright colors decorating the space. He really should have gotten some decorating advice from her before her untimely demise. Oh well. Time to grab some oatmeal from the pantry.
Setting his jacket down on the table, he opened the pantry to find it chock full of fresh fruits and vegetables. Sadly, no oats, but a nice fruit salad wouldn't be a bad way to start the day. Plus, he was badly in need of some variation in his diet. His shoestring budget didn't allow for much more than oatmeal and apples in his diet, even with the apples mostly being gifts from Big Mac.
As he took his choice of ingredients down from the shelf, he thought he heard the front door being opened. He inquisitively turned his head around, but the front door was still closed. Back to work. He grabbed a paring knife out of the drawer and began cutting up some pears.
"Good morning. May I ask what exactly you're doing at Torch's house this early in the morning?"
Startled, Toe-Tapper missed the pear and nicked his hoof. Still wincing in pain, he turned around to see that Rarity had managed to sneak up behind him. "Oh dear. Are you alright? I didn't mean to scare you."
"Yes, I'm fine,” he said as he grabbed a towel off the counter and ran it under the sink. He wasn’t exactly lying; there was a little blood, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a few minutes. He pressed the towel to his leg and sat down on the floor beside Rarity. “So… what exactly brings you here this morning?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Rarity batted her eyelashes at him. “It seems so odd that you’d be here this particularly early in the morning.”
A cold sweat ran down his neck. He wasn’t a good liar, especially when it came to big secrets, and there was no doubt in his mind that this morning was a doozy. “Oh…, I just stopped to… say hello! Yeah, that’s what it was.”
“Don’t kid yourself, dear. You can’t pretend like it didn’t happen.” He knew it. She had known about it all along. “Spare me the lies and tell me all the juicy details.”
Toe-Tapper’s stomach did a backflip. There wasn’t any hiding the truth now. A quick exhale, and the words came pouring out his mouth. “I admit it! Torch Song is dead, and I’m to blame! I don’t know what happened, but I woke, and she was there, and I’m sorry!”
He broke down into a sobbing mess, his tears pouring out like waterfalls. Rarity stood off to the side, quietly making an attempt to comprehend what he had just said. “Excuse me, Toe-Tapper, but I’m not quite sure I understand what you're getting at. Did you say that Torch is… how do I put this… dead?”
He nodded, still unable to grasp the reality of the situation himself. Rarity acknowledged him, but he could clearly see ambivalence in her eyes. Not that he could blame her; how could he expect her to understand when he didn't himself? If only this had never happened. It would certainly make life easier for both of them.
Rarity snapped to attention. "Alright then. This was certainly not what I was expecting when I came over for breakfast, but I suppose now that you've gotten me into this, I've ought to do something. Toe-Tapper, where exactly did you find Torch's... er... corpse?"
He took a deep breath. Torch Song was dead, and that was that. No amount of moping around was going to bring her back. Might as well buck up and try to figure out what happened. "She's upstairs. Follow me. Just warning you, it isn't a pretty site..."
He set the towel down on the floor beside him and headed upstairs, Rarity following behind at a cautious distance. The image of the corpse still fresh in his memory, he consciously slowed down as he plodded up the stairs. He closed his eyes at the top of stairs and walked down the hall until the stench of dried blood hit his nostrils.
The change in aroma startled his eyes open. In front of him, the scene was just as horrific as he remembered it. Rarity gasped as she bumped into him, her eyes glued to the blood soaked mare in front of her. "Oh, dear. This is worse than I imagined." She levitated a couch from a nearby room to her and promptly fainted.
This was going just great. Huffing, he marched back toward the bedroom, wondering how the day could get any worse, unaware of the pool of blood where he was stepping. One careless move later, he slipped, banging his head on the wall and promptly falling unconscious.
