The Only Chapter, Its a One Shot.
One for the Road.
AKA: A Horrible Fic by Krass McWriter
It was late as the monitor lit the room. The cigarette smoke danced through soft light. The page simply displayed two billion four hundred and thirty five million . Crasher, as he was known, stared at it periodically for weeks, afraid to refresh it and see the numbers plummet further. He opened a new tab and brought up a news website. Black Horizon, his favorite band got ponified. The last great metal band. He went back to to page with the numbers and hit refresh. It had gone down further than he thought. The page told him that the total human population of the earth was two billion flat. “Where is the hate in this world?” Crasher murmured to himself. “Mankind is losing its hate. Its unfathomable rage is being drained. The horrors and pain its bore witness too are going. This is unacceptable.”
Crasher decided it was time to get the band back together, after a few phone calls and a hour, He had his old group of friends back together. ‘It has come to my attention that there are no longer any musicians preaching to the masses that they should hate their neighbor and the whole rotting world. I propose we fix that.” He explained once more, as he had over the phone.
“How do you aim to do that.” Called a wild looking man from the back.
“Thats simple Cardinal. We’re going to make a band. It will contain all the hate and rage and pain of the human race.”
“Well thats fine and dandy, but where would we even play?” Cardinal shot.
“Ive already lined up a gig the local house of blues. They’ve been short bands and we have a spot when we want it.” Crasher said with a smug smile. “So who's with me?” It was unanimous, on that day in that odd hour, the last great metal band was born.
----------------------------------ONE-MONTH-OF-PRACTICE-LATER-----------------------------------------
Crasher burst into the room where the other band members were relaxing. “All right guys. we’re ready. We need a name though, lets hear some ideas.”He announced to the room.
There was a short period of silence until Breaker spoke up, “How about The Pauper’s Pride?”
“Thats stupid and you should feel stupid for saying that. Next!” Crasher said blunty.
This time it was Eights who opened his word hole. “I got an idea.”
“Now thats something.” Titan chimed in.
“Ladies please!” Crasher intervened. “You were saying Eights?”
“Yeah, how about something that deals with hard ship? Like Broken Homes and Broken Minds?” Eights finished.
“Better, but not quite. Anything to add Cardinal?”
“No.”
Long moments past by before a fantastic idea struck Crasher. “I’ve got it. Five Years of Broken Glass.”
“I like it.”
“Kick-ass.”
“Sounds like we have a name.”
“Excellent, lets get ready Gigs in a week.
___________________________AT_THE_GIG_________________________________
The curtains parted, in front of him was a mixed crowd of humans an some ponies. Crasher grabbed the mic, “All right all you mother fuckers! We are here to bring back all the violence an death an sorrow and pain that used to be metal music. I am Crasher an Ill be on the bass guitar and lead vocals. On our rhythm guitar is the sexually sensational Cardinal. We have Titan on the lead guitar over there, and on drums and back up vocals is Eights! We are Five Years of Broken Glass and this song is Man vs Beast vs Self!” The music started and the mosh pit opened up immediately. Once their time was up, they packed up and got off the stage.
“You guys were amazing!”
Crasher turned to the sound. “Huh? Oh yeah, thanks. Just trying to bring back all the hate that seems lacking in music now a days. It used to be you kill some ones entire family and rape them repeatedly when your angry, now its you don’t give them your secret carrot cake recipe.”
“Yeah. Hey, I have revenue that would love to have you, maybe even endorse you given you message, give it a call.” The man handed him a business card that read simply Christopher Hall, HLF HQ with a phone number to contact him at.
____________________________________________LATER__________________________
*riiiiiiiiing* *riiiiiiiiing* *riiiii-* “Hello, you’ve reached the HLF HQ. This is Christopher Hall speaking. How may I help you?”
“Uh, this is Crasher from Five Years of Broken Glass, you said you had a gig for us, and maybe an endorsement?”
“Oh yes, I showed a video of your performance to the boss. He’d love to have you!”
“All right, when and where?” Crasher took down the details.
_______________________________________HLF HQ GIG.____________________________
“Alright, sound checks done.” Eights informed Crasher. Crasher ackknowledged this and went to check in with Hall. He was pleased. Some good humans that can truly appreciate his music, his rage. people who have themselves been through five years of broken glass. To hell and back. Fellow members of his dying race. He had the weirdest boner.
He sent a message to Hall stating that they were ready. Then he plopped down in a comfy chair that was behind stage and chilled until the show started.
Some time passed and he was informed that that it was time to go on stage. He introduced the band. Then, they put all the rage they had for the world on blast. The crowd went mad, as id the band. Kindred spirits, wanting nothing more than mankind’s hate to live on.
The show ended. They packed and mingled with the HLF members. The leader approached them and offered endorsement. They accepted readily.
_____________________________________________________OVER TIME_______________
The band played more and more gigs, were in shows, on TV, interviewed. They produced an album followed by a second and third one each spread out by a year. They became a sensation, a phenomenon, and over time, a movement.
They even had pony fans, growing in number as the human population plumetted. Then the band broke up. Conflicting goals and interests, they said. They announced that they would do one last concert, entitled “One For The Road: A goodbye from us to you.
_________________________The One for The Road Concert.___________________________
The heavy curtain separated the crowd from the band. Crasher looked back from his spot at the band he’s been together with for the last four years. “Alright, lets do this.” He set the curtain on fire. The band started, opening with the song the opened with all those years ago in the house of blues, as it burned away. The screaming, the shouting, the crowd was wild.
As the band was nearing the end of the concert, Crasher made an announcement, “Its been real guys, all the hate we spread, the rage we’ve caused, the five riots we started.” The crowd cheered at the mention of the riots, they lead to many pony deaths and burning of conversion bureaus. “Yes, yes. Its been a fun four years. I want to leave you with a parting gift, one last new song.” The crowed erupted again “This one is called One for The Road!” The band started, for the first time in their history, slowly.The tune was bittersweet.
The song came to an end, the band took a bow. Crasher heard a whistling noise as he was about to walk away. Looking the source he uttered his last words as a human, “Fuck!” Escaped from his mouth as a ponification potion hit him square in the chest. Thirteen bottles of potion flooded the stage, all the members were hit as well as some of the crowd. Crasher blacked out.
A brilliant white pony with wings and a horn came into view. It was wearing some sort of crown. Crasher didn’t recognize the area. everything seemed off. He realized he must be dreaming. Looking back to the intimidating figure. Then its smiled at him an he felt... warm? Everything started fading, as it disappeared from view, he swore he heard it say ‘You are forgiven, You can rest now’ before it faded out of view.
______________________________________A New Life_______________________________
Crasher awoke to a strange sensation. He tried wiggling his fingers an toes but they wouldn’t respond. He snapped open his eyes, there was a stone gray muzzle in his view. He was in the ruins of the stage, none of the other band members were anywhere to be seen. Something more was off. He felt perfectly fine, in fact better than fine. For the first time for years he felt happy, no, elated, like a weight was taken off his chest. He started laughing, he felt wonderful. “I need a new name... Crasher is dead. From now on I shall be Bass Treble. I... I need to spread this feeling, this joy.” He picked up his guitar an slung it over his back. “Where is the love in this world?” He asked himself, laughing, as he walked off to a new life.