"I had a dream the other night. Did I tell you that? It was like, just imagine yourself waking up in a world that's just... empty.. alright? So it's like, I woke up in my house and I just sat up and I thought, something's wrong. I dunno what it was. It was like... I had like a feeling that something was wrong when I woke up. So I, y'know, I got up and I looked around my room and everything was the same. Except I knew that it wouldn't stay like that. So I walked out of my room and I went down the hallway and just took in what my house looked like. I finally reached the front door, so I stopped, took a deep breath, and then opened it. Just immediately I was overwhelmed by... nothing. It was as if I had earplugs in. I couldn't hear anything. No birds chirping. No ponies talking. The only sound that came to me seconds later was a draft of wind... but that was it."
"So I uh.." he coughed into a hoof to clear his suddenly dry throat, "I uh, you know, I went up and down the street just looking around in case someone was trying to... I dunno, pull a prank on me. Checked the clouds, checked the houses from their windows and such, I seriously looked for any sign of, well, civilization in a town that I realized was abandoned. So, after realizing this, I felt a wave of... everything hit me. Everypony was gone. Not a single thing in sight that lived. So I just kind of fell to my ass and I thought, wow, this is amazing. I'm alone in this world. And the first thing I thought after that was that I could do anything that I wanted. No cops to watch me, no paparazzi to follow me, no obsessed fans bugging me for a picture or a signature or an ass-signing or whatever, nothing." He raised the mug to his lips and drank for a few seconds. Placing it back onto the table with a resounding thud, he sighed into the air and continued.
"So I proceeded to just immediately head to the grocery store and take all the food I wanted. I mean, hell, there was no one to stop me, so why not, right? Went down aisle one and threw some toilet paper and a plunger into my cart, then I went down aisle two and got a single thing of paper towels and stuck it underneath with them. So then I went down the rest of the aisles and just picked whatever I wanted. Ice cream, crackers, those expensive little containers of coffee that taste the exact same with some creamer - which I also got later - and just whatever I wanted." He gave a short laugh, leaning back in his seat, "It was exhilarating. Just running down that store with that shopping cart, hearing the sound of the wheels squeaking on the old floor and shouting the whole time. I sang a couple of my songs as well, it was an amazing cover of Bountiful Autumn I swear I would've signed myself onto an album right away. I hadn't felt that feeling in a long time. It was absolutely wonderful."
"So eventually I got through with my shopping spree, so I looked over the collection of carts that I had acquired and I realized I couldn't pull them all at once. I was thinking like, what kind of dumbass made these things anyway? We have ta get up on our hindlegs and just... push these things around and hope we don't fall. It's stupid. I mean, I never did it myself, I always just nudged it in front of me without actually having to touch it, but I thought, okay, I gotta find a way to pull all these to the check-out. Just then I popped up and a light bulb sprang above my head and I was like, rope! So I flew down to aisle seventeen and grabbed the biggest piece of rope I could find and I ran back to my carts and started to tie them together. Just as I was done I noticed that I needed another one for the last five or so, so I went back to the ropes and got another one that I thought would be big enough. Sure enough it was, so I finished up with tying them together and I looked at it and I was really proud of it. Twenty carts in a train line tied together with rope, filled to the brim with food that I wanted."
He gave a small, short sigh as a hoof went to his stomach. He groaned slightly, "I uh, had to pick a few boxes off the floor when they fell out a lot, but it wasn't too hard. So I, ha, I pulled up to the check-out and I just stopped. I blinked probably fifteen times to myself and I just said to myself, 'wow, you're an idiot.' There wasn't anypony at the check-out counter to bag my groceries. So I thought, damn, what am I gonna do? Who's gonna bag my groceries now? Is there another pony that worked at Jolly Roger who could somehow come back and bag my groceries for me? So I kinda waited for a bit just to see if something would happen, and nothing did. I just sighed and looked around in boredom, and finally I found something. There was an apron hanging up by the returns desk, you know, the ones that the employees wore so they wouldn't get mistaken for regular shoppers. I thought to myself for a second and I just had this smile grow on my face."
Suddenly, he rose from his seat, grabbing the mug by its handle and holding it as he stepped toward the window sitting to his right. Stopping in front of it, he took a swig from his mug and smiled at the outside world staring back at him. "I went up and grabbed it, put it on, and went back to the register. Looking at my name tag, which said Miguel by the way, I took an item out of my cart and put it against the scanny-thing whatever it's called. Waited for the beep. It didn't come, so I tried to scan it again and still nothing. Then I realized that, with nopony alive, the generators and the electricity weren't working. So I was just like, damn, that sucks. So I put the bag of chips back into the cart, looked at it, and wheeled them out of the store. Taking them back to my house, I just started eating. I ate so much that I exploded, and then I woke up."
He fell to his haunches, bringing a hoof up to rub his chin. Feeling the rough texture of his beard, he hummed at nothing in particular and spoke, "I've always really wondered why I'm here in the first place, y'know? Like, what brought me here of all places?" He put his mug down, then promptly threw his forelegs out like a flying eagle and watched them ascend toward the sunlight. "What brought me, Time Bomb, lead singer and founder of Cigare Brûlé, to snowy Vanhoover? I mean, why, you know? What purpose do I think I'll acquire here?" Time turned his head, a frown on his lips. "I thought it was because of the break-up, but, pfft, I'm over that. What am I really doing here? Do I think that lightning's gonna strike twice? One more album, and yet I still have one song left. One song that I can't quite think up." He let his hooves plop to the ground by his sides, then simply fell onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Giving a cheek-pressed grimace, he let out a sigh that flew into the air in a wisp of visible fog.
Smacking his lips together, he looked back toward his dinner table and pointed a hoof at the seat across from his, "Thanks for being here, by the way. You've always been a good listener. Glad I met you all those years ago in my closet." The burlap sack shifted, its baseball cap falling to the floor in a clatter. The brown wig was left to suffer from a now-bloodthirsty draft. Shouting its name to him in the form of the large bold letters across its chest, it slowly leaned forward and banged its head on the table. Time Bomb groaned, running his forehooves down his face, "Listen Flour, you don't have to be a bitch about it. You're literally a sack of baking material, I don't have to listen to you, hell, I shouldn't even be talking to you right now."
The sack's middle began to descend from the gap it was presented in between the table and its chair.
"Gods, what am I doing here." Staring up at the ceiling fan, he watched it for a time before scrambling back to his hooves with an audible huff. Wiping his legs from the dust that had plagued them, he hummed a short note and walked toward his left. The floor making itself known with its audible creaks and pops, he stepped into the main hallway and opened the first door on his right. Standing in the doorway, he brought a hoof up and searched for the light switch, finally hitting it and illuminating the room.
The drum set still sat against the oak dresser, its exterior scratched and worn as if it had rolled through a battlefield. The collection of microphones sat in a cardboard box right by them. His guitar stood against the wall next to him. The lovely, black signature still shone at him in the light of the ceiling fan. A smile crept upon his lips, and he turned his head to his left and approached the music stand that held his folder. Opening it, he looked through the first few pages and gave off a sigh. Intrepid Wind. Red Velvet. The Approach. Songs he had named, each having only a few simple notes penciled on them before being shoved back into storage.
Time Bomb blew a raspberry.
Useless.
He picked up his guitar and walked toward his drum set, taking a seat on the wooden stool he had recently made himself. Adjusting his position on the seat, Time Bomb brought his instrument up to his hooves, cradling the neck in a trained, strong grasp. Sitting there for a time, he stared straight ahead and fixated on absolutely nothing. His recording room was silent. The hallway was silent. His cabin was silent. He was silent, and then at once, he raised his left hoof up to adjust the mic in front of his face, returned it, and strummed a single note. And as he began to play, he realized that he might finally have something.
The cold wind raging outside his cabin continued its horrible torrent in peace, undisturbed but oddly enthralled with the song currently taking form inside the lowly house by the lake.
Author's Note
Just an idea I thought I'd throw out there. I can't exactly say this is a strong opening chapter, but I thought I'd introduce Time Bomb in a way that didn't immediately put him in a bad light. If you liked it so far, I'd love to hear it in the comments! Same goes with any complaints or negative things as well, those help tremendously. Hope you enjoyed!
