780 [OLD]by lonkfaniaChapters1234561.5Meanwhile...1I'm driving down the road to Manehatten in my 1972 Buick Skylark thinking to myself why I am even driving this car right now. Like, I have a dozen modern cars like the new Ford Mustang or whatever that could be given to me by my agent, but I don't really care. I like this car. Even though it was created about 10 years before I was even born, It just has some non-existent nostalgia to it that I love. Just about like every thing else that I like. With or without the "non-existent" part of it. I see the tall skyscrapers of Manehatten, all the ponies trotting about getting hot dogs or pizza or a book, and I'm just driving down the road in my 1972 Buick Freakin' Skylark. And a lot of ponies are looking at me funny. My excuse to a lot of ponies as to why I drive this car is because when I'm doing something I'm not really supposed to by my agent, I don't get their cars, but of course they let me do that. I'm Vinyl, the world's number one EDM artist. Heck, maybe even number one just artist. Some ponies have the notion that whatever a pony does for a living is exactly what they have wanted to do. Do you think a pony who cleans the sewers loves what they do? Do you think they go and say, "Ahhh, the sewage smells nice today!" Heck no.The reason I do EDM is not only because I like making music in general, but also that it gives me "dat green, yo," as the "hip" folk would say to try to be the metaphorical definition of "hip". Why do you think I would be talking about having a dozen new cars like the Ford Mustang if I didn't have "dat green, yo" coming out of my ears? It's like when you're rich, you stop saying "Oh, it's only a couple bucks" and start saying "Oh, it's only a couple hundred bucks". I see my destination, this night club called the "Bang Sistah". It isn't as bad as it sounds. I've been there many times, performing like I always do. It was my first venue ever. There's not many cars here, but that's to be expected. It's not that popular, or big. I'll blend right in with these old 60's and 80's cars. I pull in and get out. I almost forget my trademark glasses, which I still to this day have no idea why I have to wear, and I take them as I shut and lock the door. I open the trunk and see all of my equipment: A Mac, a Push, some special headphones of special-ness, and my new device that I'm trying out this venue. Not much of a- "Need help?" I turn around. I see a bluish-gray mare with some purple funky glasses the same style as mine, but darker. He has a black vest on with some embellishing. "It's nothing," I say. "If you try to help, it would certainly help with trying to steal this later!" He and I chuckle at my joke. "Just wanted to make sure," he assures. He turns around and trots away. I get some of my stuff via magic (insert *snort snort* here), but I carry the rest on my back. I close the trunk, lock the doors, and head in. It's, again, a small venue. A small stage, a small dining area, a small everything. Everything has an yellow-orange oldies vibe to it. It's even playing some classic rock in the loudspeakers at the moment as background music. The best reason I like this venue. I go onstage and set up, like I always do. I get a whole bunch of stares from the audience, and some chatter coming from them which is probably like, "Is it really her?" It happens at every venue now, so I pay no heed. I get a table and place my Mac and Push on it. I plug everything in, including my weird contraption. I place it on my hoof. It has five metal pointer-things on it. It's custom-fitted, and slides right on perfectly. Now I get stares at the finger-contraption. I get my mic. "WHO'S READY TO PARTEH!!!!" Everypony cheers. I get my first song put up. It's the one specifically designed for this contraption. How it works is that there are special unheard "notes" that motion the contraption to move a certain way, like "F1 J1 25 degrees" and such. It gives me more precision and tactile-ness in my Pushing. It's a simple track made more complicated by the finger-contraption. I think that's going to be its trademark now, "Finger-Contraption". Tell that to the marketing reps. The crowd seems to enjoy it. Next, I get some of my more well-known songs and mess around with it. I get more applause than in the Finger-Contraption device, but that's fine. Everypony knows it, and so more ponies will enjoy it. When I'm done, I scream out a "GOOD NIGHT EVERYPONEH!!!!!" and put everything back together. I get my stuff and start to trot out. I get calls for autographs and crap, but I don't listen. I just trot out. I find my car. I hastily unlock and open the truck and put my stuff in there, like my body is in auto-pilot. I slam the trunk down. I unlock and get into my driver's side, an- "Hi there." I gasp, and turn around for the third time today. That bluish-grey mare is sitting in my back seat. "How did you get in here, you son of a-" "Spare keys. Got 'em in a bet. Contest. Whatever." ... "I thought those didn't work..." I got out slowly. "I didn't either, 'till I tried 'em." "What do you want from me then?" "Oh nothing, just this fancy back seat... Say, where'd you get this?" "The back seat, or-" "The car, you idiot." "At Plexelton." "Okay then. Let's drive... somewhere, your house?" "Whatever you say, 'Neon Lights' or something." "*gasp*" "That's your name, isn't it? Stage or real?" "Real." "Whatever. I don't care, but we're going to Plexelton after I get back to my place." "Ok." I started the car. 2"Why is your home so far away from Manehatten?" Neon asked. "What, just because I'm an EDM artist means I have to live in a really big city? Who came up with that?" I replied. ... "Never mind." ... "Hey, we're coming into Plexelton. Need to grab something?" "Yeah. Is there a Mickey D's?" "There's five." ... "I thought you said you didn't live in a city." "A really big one, not just a city in general. And anyways, this isn't where I live. I live in a suburb." "Well, thanks for elaborating, Vinyl Scratch." ... "This feels weird." "What feels weird?" "Driving a car with a random stranger in the back seat. Being a celebrity and just driving down the road to Plexelton. All of this." "There's two ponies in this car that feel that way." ... "You know, if we were in a romantic movie, we'd start showing the lovie-dovies towards each other only to 5 minutes later 'break up' because reasons?" "But this isn't a romantic movie." "I know that. If I didn't, I would be a mass murderer because I watched too many action movies." "Good point." ... "You saw Terminator II?" "Yeah..." "That would be the biggest influence." ... "Here we are, McDonald's." In front of the parking lot was a good-sized building with a "McDonald's" sign on it. It had ponies and foals alike outside and inside. McDonald's is popular in pretty much every place you can imagine. I and Neon get out of the car. I lock it, and we go inside the Mickey D's. There's a moderate line to the counters. We step in line. Immediately I hear gasps and whispers, not only because I forgot to leave my trademark glasses in the car, but for the same reason they are trademark in the first place. I'm the freakin' number one EDM artist in freakin' Equestria. No pressure. The young mare in front of us tuned around and immediately gasped. "OH MY GOSH IT'S VINYL!!!!11!!" Oh boy, here we go. "IT'S REALLY YOU!!!! WHATCHA ORDERING??!!!1!!!" OOOHHH boy, HEEERE we go. "Does it really matter?" I fan the fire burning in the mindless fanboy's heart. "'DOES IT REALLY MATTER?' OF COURSE IT DOES!!!!" I turn to Neon. "psst, what are you ordering?" I whisper. "you can't order for yourself?" "yes I can, but the thing I'm going to order is what everyone else is going to order. Just pick something simple and pretend I'm eating it." "so you're telling me that you want to pretend you're ordering a McDouble just because you want to save everyone else's wallets?: "YEEEEEES." I throat harshly. "ok, Charity." Neon jokes harshly back. The young mare lets us go first. I wonder why... Anyways, we get up to the counter. "Hello, welcome to McDonald's, how may I help you?" the counter pony asks. "I would like a Bacon Clubhouse for me and a McDouble for this gal over here." I do a fake blush. And maybe a real one too, IDK anymore. This does seem like some sort of a romantic movie. I'm scared. Every single person in the room gasps, including the counter pony. Well, not us, but you get the point. "Oooookaaayy, That will be 13 bits please." Neon and I fish in our pockets for some change. We bring up enough money for the 13 bits. "Thanks. Have a nice day!" the counter pony says. "You too," we say in unison. I have an urge to say "JINX" but I don't. We sit down at a random table. I overhear the young mare order a McDouble with joy. I thought so. We wait a while before a waiter mare comes and dishes our food. I didn't think McDonald's did that. Oh well, nice touch. "Are we really going with the food-swap-thing?" Neon asks. I answer by stealing "his" Clubhouse, taking it out of the box with magic (insert *snort snort* here), and taking a bite out of it. "Oh you..." I laugh while chewing. I'm calling it, this is a romantic movie. 3We're leaving the borders of Plexelton and coming into the borders of a nearby suburb, Charleston, where I live. The tidy houses, the not-too-busy traffic, and just the calm atmosphere make this place a home I love. Not what you would expect for an EDM artist, I know. And I covered that. Shut up. "Are we almost there?" Neon asks. "You sound like a spoiled foal saying that, you know?" I argue. "Yeah..." I chuckle. "We're almost there, widdle Neon Lights!" "Oh shut up," he says between chuckles. ... "You know we're conversing like a couple already, right?" he asks. "What do you mean?" ... "Well... It's just that the 'widdle Neon Lights' joke I don't think would have been made if you didn't have feelings for me." "Friends joke about each other all the time." "Well, not in that context, right?" ... "We're here, shut up." It was a nice compact little house. It had a big yard, nicely paved driveway and sidewalk, and some prunes growing next to the house. My house. "Nice place, Vinyl." "Thanks." We get out of the car, I lock it, and we walk to the house. I unlock the door and open it. It's a little chaotic, but not that much. There's papers scattered across a desk (bills, darn bills), a piano with some sheet music (Levon), and a desktop computer currently turned off, all in the living room. There's more in the bedroom, but I thought I didn't need to go there any time soon with Neon around. "A piano?" Neon gawks, somewhat in amusement. A piano is kind of a hard instrument to play, 'cause not only do you have to learn how to do cords with your hooves, but also how to actually play individual notes with hooves. But, once you get the hang of that, the world is your oyster. And it isn't yet for me, but I'm getting there. "Yes, a piano. It's good that you aren't blind." I joke. "Oh shut up." He trots over to the piano and sits down. "What, 'Levon'? What's this?" He then attempts to play notes, muttering stuff like, "Oh, that's the C..." and etc. He, of course, just sounds like a two-year-old playing on a toy keyboard. I try to stifle laughing out loud. But I can't hold it any longer. He turns around and looks at me with something that, if it can, would probably kill me. I just laugh even harder. He grunts, and goes back to Baby's First Piano Lessons. He eventually figures out a cheat method of using magic to push the keys, and seems to enjoy it, but then he tries cords and he literally passes out, plopping onto the floor like a fish. Oh dear. I laugh so loud the neighbors can probably hear me. I'm starting to pass out too, I think. I drag him to my bed. My bedroom is the only part of the house that IS a mess. Papers everywhere (I TOLD YOU ABOUT BILLS, BRO), posters of REO Speedwa- REO Speedwagon. An 80's rock band. The first band I got to listen to live, and the one that got me started to this hell-hole of stereotypes. In my bedroom. Where a total stranger is going to be resting in. I start to pull Neon out of the bed, but his head bumps on the floor, and he wakes up. "Eeehhggghhoookkkk..." He must be pretty worn out. I see him glance at the poster. "Eehhwweeehhh..." I drag him out of my bedroom and shut the door, much to his apparent distaste. He passes out again. What the heck was he doing? Trying to do two G cords at the same time while playing a complicated melody? No wait, he saw the poster, now he gets to study it. He'll pester me about it anyway. I open the bedroom door again and shove him into bed. I don't put any covers on him 'cause that would be embarrassing. I shut the door. I trot over to the piano. I straighten the sheet music and start playing. I'm playing the intro, and decide to go full-on with the song. I don't care anymore. "Levon wears his war wound like a crown. ... He calls his foal Jesus ... 'cause he likes the name. And he sends him to the finest school in town. ... Levon, Levon likes his moneeeeeey. ... He makes a lot they saaaaaaaay. ... Spends his days counting In a garage by the motorwaaaaaaay ... He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas day When the Manehatt' Times said God is dead and the war's begun. Alvin Tostig has a son today..." I hear rustling in the bedroom. I pay no heed. "And he shall be Levon And he shall be a good mare And he shall be Levon In tradition with the family plan And he shall be Levon And he shall be a good mare He shall be Levon..." I hear another person in this house sing the ending line. I turn around. Neon is kinda wobble-y but seems to have rested up. That was quick. "Why were you playing Levon by Elton John? And why do you have a REO Speedwagon poster in your freakin' bedroom?" "I'll explain later. Now, I'm asking you why you know Elton John." ... "You know what? If you're gonna explain later, then I will. Gender equality, you know?" "Oh shut up." I chuckle. I go into my closet and bring out some boxes. I set them out on the floor. "Whatcha doing?" "Packing for Plexelton," I say as I put random stuff in the boxes. "Why?" "Gonna move to Plexelton because I have to. Agent forced me too so I can get 'public visitors'. I'm getting the bills settled for this house, then I'm selling it. You want it?" "No." I chuckle. "Why? It's nice and calm out here, a-" "That's the same reason I'm not moving here. My apartment in Manehatten is fine enough." "Fine enough for what? Seeing you're 'Neon Lights' and you have Vinyl-Glasses, it seems like you're a male version of me." "Yeah... I guess so. I mean, I have a Push. Not a 2, but a Push nonetheless. Why do you need a Push anyway? If you suck at the piano, you might as well suck at the Push. Besides, there isn't really any use to it. There's like, 8 buttons. Whatcha gonna use 8 buttons for? Drum kit? I thought it was supposed to control everything?" "You know there's a Pro version? More buttons? So you can actually play a song with it?" "There is? Never saw that." "It's expensive. Well, for you at least. Plus, apparently you suck at the piano." "And now it's my turn to tell you to shut up." We chuckle. I get some more packing done. Neon keeps asking me random questions about my equipment, and I "We're gonna have to come back here in my Coporate-Van so I can put more stuff in here," I clarify. "So no more Skylark?" "No more Skylark." "Aww... I liked the backseat..." I chuckle a little. Chuckle is now the word of the day. And so we head out towards the Coparate-Home and see what awaits us. 4"So... Does this count as later?" Neon asks. "No," I reply. "Well, it isn't really fair if the definition of 'later' is determined by the user." "Yes, it isn't." I stare at Neon, who is now in the front seat, only because the back seat is full of crap. "Ok, ok, fine, I'm stupid, you're stupid, we're all stupid in our own special way, now, again?" I look back at the road. "No." "I'm sounding like a spoiled foal right now, aren't I?" "Yes. You are." ... We're about a mile to my house, as I can tell. My house is about in the center of Plexelton, and we're just approaching its borders. The skyscrapers aren't as tall as Manehatten's, but they are skyscrapers nonetheless. It's the same deal as Manehatten with the city ponies trotting around getting hot dogs and pretzels, shopping in the fashion district for, well, what do you think, and a great deal more. It could have been Manehatten if it weren't for the fact that Manehatten came first. Neon finally speaks up again. "Look, I know everyone has their preferences, but, isn't it ironic that although we both create EDM music, we don't like to listen to it as much as we like making it?" "Mmmaaaaayyyybeeeee..." ... "So does that mean we're hypocrites?" ... "Mmmaaaaayyyybeeeee..." We laugh. "Well, not really," comments Neon, "because we have the right to like whatever the heck we want." "Tell that to the thousands of fans screaming my name, and then see what you get." Neon laughs. "Oh come on, if a hundred of them will buy your McDouble, then a thousand of them will buy REO Speedwagon." "Then the conspiracy theorists will listen to it, hate it, and release theories that I am working with them to sell more copies." "Wait, you have your own conspiracy theorists?" "Seriously. Some say I'm a changeling. Making EDM music to sway the masses and steal them of their love for everyone else but me." Neon bursts out laughing. "YOU SERIOUS?" he says in-between laughs. "Yeah," I say, now laughing as hard as he is. "THESE PONIES ARE CRAZY!" "Hey, all my fans are kinda crazy too, so don't worry." Neon laughs even harder. I'm worried he's going to pass out. "Ok, ok," I say, "We're done now, we're done." Neon calms down a bit. "But I don't wanna be done laughing!" "Ya think?" Neon heaves a big sigh. "Aww, man." We arrive at our destination. It's a very, VERY tidy home, with trees and plants planted all throughout the lot. It's a big house too, about three times the size of my old one. "Looks like you got promoted," Neon jokes. I say nothing. We get out of the car. "Hey, I need you to help me with this." I command Neon. "And by 'help' you mean 'use some magic with this along with me'." "Yeah, I guess." I chuckle. I open the trunk. My computer is in there along with some other trinkets, like a "bass cannon" one. I can't believe how that "bass cannon" joke got to be immensely popular, so popular in fact, that the marketing reps command me to keep it on me at all times. It's like the world is hopeless against the mass marketing wizardry and manipulation these guys pull off. The bulk of my cargo is in the back seat. All the loose papers I had (if you guess bills, then congratulations, The Price is Right) and a folding table I had for no apparent reason were stuffed in there. The rest of my belongings will have to be moved in my Coparate-Van, which is already in the garage. I will be noticed from a mile away, but hey, you gotta pick your poison. As we're unloading the car, I get a question stuck in my head. "How did you hear rumors that I actually gave a spare key away?" "The company said it." WHAT? "What do you mean?" "They said that the winner will get a spare key to your Buick Skylark which was said to no longer be in use by you." "Well that's bull. Were they trying to get it stolen from me?" "I guess, IDK." ... "What was the bet anyway?" "Some guy told me that one of your sponsors are doing a contest to see who can re-create your music the best." "I could probably have guessed you won." "That's how I got these glasses. I could choose whatever color I wanted. But not your color. That will be confusing." I chuckle. We get the last of our items into the Corporate-House. It's, again, a roomy house, with a very elaborate stairwell into the second floor. The first room you go into is possibly supposed to be a party floor (for "guests"), so ponies that invade your house don't have to see the REO Speedwagon poster you have in your open bedroom door. The entrance-way below the stairwell goes into the living room. It has a lit fireplace (for some reason), a piano (no, it wasn't for me, it's for a professional to play during "special events", even though I'll probably use it more), and some more rich-pony stuff that I didn't ask for but I got anyway because I'm rich. That's where all my stuff is going for right now until a "professional" designer goes in and messes with my stuff. Of course, I could call that off, but they never told me how to even though I could look up online the designer and contact her saying I'm calling it off and not call it off through my agent. Oh well. Life happens. I get the last of the stuff in the living room, and I trot over to the garage. The Corporate-Van is right there. It has my face, with my trademark glasses hugging my face as I give a cheesy smile; my logo, a pair of headphones firing out blue electricity at the ear pads, and "DJ-PON3" written on the side of it. So stupid. But, I didn't tell them how to make it, so they market-sized it. That's life. I get in the van along with Neon, open the garage door, and head off to Charleston. When we get there, there isn't much to be moved other than the furniture. We put as much as we can in the van (hey, that rhymes) and go back to Plexelton. And then crazy stuff happens. 5There is a car wreck blocking our way. It was a gruesome car wreck. The front ends of both cars folded into each other, and blood is scattered in and out of the car. One pony is being dragged out of the car, presumed dead. The other is sitting there, possibly sobbing, his tears mixing with the blood trickling down his forehead. It isn't bad, but it isn't good either. We take a right. As we do so, ponies start to notice that there is a certain DJ-PON3 traveling through town, and they start to cheer. Some ponies even get out some DJ-PON3 signs and wave them as we pass by. It's both a pleasing and disturbing sight. Pleasing because they care about me so much to make signs. Disturbing because they care about me so much to make signs. "Wow," Neon exclaims. "You really have thousands of fans screaming your name." "Yeeeeeup." I find the road we're supposed to be on again and go on it. More ponies show up with even bigger and more extravagant signs. I hear a collective chant as we pass by, and it is both exciting me greatly and making me worried. A stop light emerges. We stop, but the ponies that were going to walk are pushed out of the way, and we are motioned to go. We just stand there. The cheering emerges into a roar, now finding an opportunity to show dedication to the one and only Vinyl Scratch. It scares me to think that ponies would prevent others from doing what they want to do just to be nice to some superstar. I motion the ponies pushed out of the way to walk. Instead, all of the fans walk across the crosswalk, holding their signs right in front of me. The other ponies are pushed back to make way for the fans. The light turns green, but the fans still walk. I hear horns behind me motioning me to move. But I can't. The fans are blocking me. Finally, one of the cars decide they had enough, and blare their horn as they trudge through. One unlucky fan gets hit. It isn't bad, but it knocked him out. The car stops, and as he gets out, he gets hit by the fans. Ponies are pummeling this guy for hitting one of them. I can't take it anymore. I open my van door and trot out. I motion Neon to stay. He glares at me, but submits. I gallop over to the brawling fans who are now fighting each other. Ponies are getting black-eyes. "WHY NOT YOU PONIES JUST STOP, HUH?" I yell. Everypony freezes. You know what? I don't care anymore. "JUST BECAUSE I'M BIG AND POPULAR MEANS THAT YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT, HUH? YOU SAY, 'OH, SCREW THIS MARE, HE DOESN'T LIKE DJ-PON3!' WELL, SCREW YOU TOO. NOW GET OUT OF MY WAY." I trot over to the van. Somepony throws a punch at me, and I punch him back. I connect, and he falls over unconscious. Crap. I get in the van, close the door, honk my horn, and plow through. Everypony gets out of my way as I go on to my destination. As I drive, the only thing I can ask myself is, "Why?" Why did all of these people do some sort of cruel ritual just because of music? Is this what has happened to the youth? Them being blind corporate puppets? Following what they picture as an idol or god when in reality he/she's just a pony like them who just got in the right/wrong place at the right/wrong time? If I had the will to, I would punch all of these ponies unconscious. Just a god darn waste. Why? Why did this have to happen? Why has this world become just a mass movement of... Changelings? Why? "Why?" Neon asks as we approach Corporate-House. "Why not?" "Seriously. You need to go to karate school." "Why would they do that? Push people out of the way and brawl with a bystander to please me?" "Well, one thing's for sure." I look at him in question. He finishes, "Well, these are probably the people who those conspiracy theorists think are your victims." We both laugh a little to lighten up the mood. We go into the garage and unpack the van. It takes a little longer this time, with the weight of the furniture, but we accomplish it. The living room seems a little more living-room-ish and less moving-in-ish. We both like the look. Looks like those corporate house designers had some brains after all. We are both worn out by working our magic, and we decide to get some rest. I head up to the new bedroom. It's a plain and simple bedroom with a nice, tidy bed and a desk with... A new computer on it. Hmm. That's kinda nice... I don't want to think about it. I plop on the bed. I groan in tiredness and start to doze off. I feel another plop on the bed. "Neon. What are you doing here?" "Can't I use this bed too? The couch is too short." I think of the implications this could mean. "Fine then." I close the door and plop down again. We both doze off. I pretend not to silently observe the snoring from the opposite sex. 6I had a dream. It was of me as a 6 year old being taken to watch the live concert of REO Speedwagon. My mother was a big fan, and when she heard that REO was coming to Plexelton, she literally screamed in excitement. That woke me up. My mother raced up the stairs into the nursery, picked me up in her comforting magic and raced down the stairs again, me flying through the air scared and excited at the same time. She, while carrying me, blazed through breakfast and forgot to feed me as she head into the car with my dad and drove off, all while geeking out at my dad like a fangirl. At this point, they realized what they had done, so they went to McDonalds and ordered me a small french fry. I ate it all. It was delicious. They kept driving through the road, and that's when REO came on. It was Keep On Loving You. Of course, I never heard this song before, or REO, but it sounded cool. "And I meant, every word I said When I said that I love you I meant that I love you forever" "Do you know we're gonna see these guys in concert?!?! Yaaaaaaay!" Mom said during the chorus in that baby-talk voice. I, of course, having no idea what a concert is, just sat there and said, "Ok," because I had no other response. We arrived at the big stadium with me being a little bit confused. This year, they took me to a hoofball game there. They told me about the game, how the players move the ball down the field and kick it into the goal, but I still didn't really grasp it. I didn't really care that much for it anyway. That was all I thought of it, just a hoofball stadium. So, I asked, "They're going to play hoofball?" "No, silly, they're playing music!" Mom replied. "But how are they going to play with all the hoofball players playing hoofball?" "There's no hoofball game." "Oh." My parents both laughed, and I instinctively laughed with them. I sometimes wish that child-like innocence would come back some day. It was so fun. We trotted into the stadium where we bought tickets at the door and went into the stadium. It was a roomy stadium, with about a thousand seats. We sat in the top rows. I remember being shocked at how high up we were. Even though there were many rows of seats below and in front of us, I was a little scared about falling. Then, I saw ponies set up some... Things. There was a club-like thing, many circle-like things hooked together somehow, and many other... Things. I wondered what they were going to do with all of this. Then the music started. The music blared through the stadium, crowds cheering and amazing lighting affects taking center stage. It hurt my eyes a little bit. I was fascinated by the performance, on how the ponies strummed the big club-like thing, banged sticks on the circle-like things. I thought to myself, I want to do that. It seems so cool. I had no idea what exactly it was, but it was interesting. All this time I was listening to lame foals' songs. This was something different. It was cool. "Is this a concert," I asked I remember the song that I loved the most. The one where I found out who I am. The one where I got my cutie mark at just six years old. Ridin' the Storm Out. The signature guitar note played and my mom went nuts. Then the song started. "Ridin' the storm out, waitin' for the thaw out On a full moon night in the rocky mountain winter..." My mom got up and, without asking, carried me on my back, jumping up and down. I got a little dizzy trying to watch the band while my mom kept shaking my view. I called out to her to stop, but she couldn't hear me over the loudness of the performance. Oh well. "And I'm not missing a thing watchin' the full moon crossing the range Ridin' the storm out, ridin' the storm out Ridin' the storm out, ridin' the storm out" My mom stopped jumping but was still screeching with excitement. I wondered if she was going to pass out. Eventually, she calmed down, her throat possibly hurting from all the screaming, and got back down. I still was just laying on her back, watching the show. "Lady beside me and she's there to guide me She says that alone we've finally found our home And the wind outside is frightening But it's kinder than the lightning life in the city It's a hard enough to live but it give back of what you give And I'm not missing a thing watchin' the full moon crossing the range ridin' the storm out, ridin' the storm out ridin' the storm out, ridin' the storm out Woah, yes I am" I felt all the instruments combine into some sort of epic melody. All the parts just felt great with each other. I felt more than ever the desire to do what they do. Heck, I'll carry all the instruments in magic and play them all at once. I'll be a one-mare-band. I just want to do this. But I still have no idea what exactly it is. During the last bridge, I asked my mom, "What is this?" "It's rock, sweetheart." Rock. A lot of things were rocking here. The crowd, the club-like things, the ponies on stage... I guess that's why it's called rock. Everyone rocks in Rock. Then something ticked in my mind. "It's cool!" I said, realizing that this is what I want to do with my life. Rock. Rock, rock, and rock some more. This is where I belong. In a concert, fascinated by the displays. In a tour bus, putting together a gig. At home, playing a riff on a guitar. I want to rock. "I know, right? You wanna be like them?" By now, I knew my answer fair and square. "Yeah!" In the big finale, I felt a little warmer on my butt. My cutie mark is not signifying me of being a DJ. It's signifying me as being a music fanatic. And to this day, when I get the chance too, I pick up my vintage Fender Stratocaster and play a tune on it. Preferably REO. I was thinking about this when I woke up. 1.5We're driving down a land of corn fields. We've been driving for two days now. I don't want to go into the details, but I'll go into one big moment. I needed to fuel up my car, so I stop by a 7-Eleven and magic-grab the pump. Neon gets out of the car as I start pouring the gas in. "So, what brought you here?" asks Neon. "To Bang Sistahs?" I confirm. "Yeah." "I wanted to test out that finger-contraption." "What?" "You weren't there watching, weren't you?" "Nope, I was outside with my bro's, smoking a joint." ... "What?" "Just kidding, I was hijacking your car." ... "I don't know which one's worse." ... "Me neither." We chuckled at that. I got up to full, put the pump back, and closed the fuel door. I headed towards the 7-Eleven. "You want a Coke?" I ask Neon. "Sure." He follows me in, I get a Coke and a granola bar, he gets a Coke and a Rice Krispies Treat. We check out and get back in the car. "This is the first time I had a Coke with a celebrity," he says. "This is the first time someone said that to me," I continue. "This is the first time someone said THAT to me." "This is the... Oh, whatever." We enjoy the nice crispy Coke and... food item and get back on the road. Meanwhile...===MEANWHILE, IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE...=== A mare is sitting at his computer wondering what the heck he's doing. He looks at the self-post he is typing. Is he even supposed to do this? Is this a good way to convey to the audience of this fanfiction that he doesn't have a clue where this story is supposed to go? He looks up. 47 unique visitors. 143 total. 2 comments, about nothing, really. 4 likes. 2 dislikes. The same figures as the 3rd of December, more or less. Is this going anywhere? Did he miss the opportunity for more people to come? Does anyone care anymore? All these questions plague this pale-green young mare and more. He then sets his grass-green gradient hooves onto the keyboard, and clicks on the color wheel. And then he starts typing again. Dear FIMFiction. I am sorry for the delay of content for my fanfiction, 780. I haven't been motivated to work on this project anymore. Nobody really seems to care. I am releasing a new chapter today, just for you. Then, I'll work on the next chapters of the story to be delivered by Hearths Warming Eve. Thanks. -Lonk Chase He clicks save, and then publish. ===AND NOW WE RETURN TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING===
1I'm driving down the road to Manehatten in my 1972 Buick Skylark thinking to myself why I am even driving this car right now. Like, I have a dozen modern cars like the new Ford Mustang or whatever that could be given to me by my agent, but I don't really care. I like this car. Even though it was created about 10 years before I was even born, It just has some non-existent nostalgia to it that I love. Just about like every thing else that I like. With or without the "non-existent" part of it. I see the tall skyscrapers of Manehatten, all the ponies trotting about getting hot dogs or pizza or a book, and I'm just driving down the road in my 1972 Buick Freakin' Skylark. And a lot of ponies are looking at me funny. My excuse to a lot of ponies as to why I drive this car is because when I'm doing something I'm not really supposed to by my agent, I don't get their cars, but of course they let me do that. I'm Vinyl, the world's number one EDM artist. Heck, maybe even number one just artist. Some ponies have the notion that whatever a pony does for a living is exactly what they have wanted to do. Do you think a pony who cleans the sewers loves what they do? Do you think they go and say, "Ahhh, the sewage smells nice today!" Heck no.The reason I do EDM is not only because I like making music in general, but also that it gives me "dat green, yo," as the "hip" folk would say to try to be the metaphorical definition of "hip". Why do you think I would be talking about having a dozen new cars like the Ford Mustang if I didn't have "dat green, yo" coming out of my ears? It's like when you're rich, you stop saying "Oh, it's only a couple bucks" and start saying "Oh, it's only a couple hundred bucks". I see my destination, this night club called the "Bang Sistah". It isn't as bad as it sounds. I've been there many times, performing like I always do. It was my first venue ever. There's not many cars here, but that's to be expected. It's not that popular, or big. I'll blend right in with these old 60's and 80's cars. I pull in and get out. I almost forget my trademark glasses, which I still to this day have no idea why I have to wear, and I take them as I shut and lock the door. I open the trunk and see all of my equipment: A Mac, a Push, some special headphones of special-ness, and my new device that I'm trying out this venue. Not much of a- "Need help?" I turn around. I see a bluish-gray mare with some purple funky glasses the same style as mine, but darker. He has a black vest on with some embellishing. "It's nothing," I say. "If you try to help, it would certainly help with trying to steal this later!" He and I chuckle at my joke. "Just wanted to make sure," he assures. He turns around and trots away. I get some of my stuff via magic (insert *snort snort* here), but I carry the rest on my back. I close the trunk, lock the doors, and head in. It's, again, a small venue. A small stage, a small dining area, a small everything. Everything has an yellow-orange oldies vibe to it. It's even playing some classic rock in the loudspeakers at the moment as background music. The best reason I like this venue. I go onstage and set up, like I always do. I get a whole bunch of stares from the audience, and some chatter coming from them which is probably like, "Is it really her?" It happens at every venue now, so I pay no heed. I get a table and place my Mac and Push on it. I plug everything in, including my weird contraption. I place it on my hoof. It has five metal pointer-things on it. It's custom-fitted, and slides right on perfectly. Now I get stares at the finger-contraption. I get my mic. "WHO'S READY TO PARTEH!!!!" Everypony cheers. I get my first song put up. It's the one specifically designed for this contraption. How it works is that there are special unheard "notes" that motion the contraption to move a certain way, like "F1 J1 25 degrees" and such. It gives me more precision and tactile-ness in my Pushing. It's a simple track made more complicated by the finger-contraption. I think that's going to be its trademark now, "Finger-Contraption". Tell that to the marketing reps. The crowd seems to enjoy it. Next, I get some of my more well-known songs and mess around with it. I get more applause than in the Finger-Contraption device, but that's fine. Everypony knows it, and so more ponies will enjoy it. When I'm done, I scream out a "GOOD NIGHT EVERYPONEH!!!!!" and put everything back together. I get my stuff and start to trot out. I get calls for autographs and crap, but I don't listen. I just trot out. I find my car. I hastily unlock and open the truck and put my stuff in there, like my body is in auto-pilot. I slam the trunk down. I unlock and get into my driver's side, an- "Hi there." I gasp, and turn around for the third time today. That bluish-grey mare is sitting in my back seat. "How did you get in here, you son of a-" "Spare keys. Got 'em in a bet. Contest. Whatever." ... "I thought those didn't work..." I got out slowly. "I didn't either, 'till I tried 'em." "What do you want from me then?" "Oh nothing, just this fancy back seat... Say, where'd you get this?" "The back seat, or-" "The car, you idiot." "At Plexelton." "Okay then. Let's drive... somewhere, your house?" "Whatever you say, 'Neon Lights' or something." "*gasp*" "That's your name, isn't it? Stage or real?" "Real." "Whatever. I don't care, but we're going to Plexelton after I get back to my place." "Ok." I started the car.
2"Why is your home so far away from Manehatten?" Neon asked. "What, just because I'm an EDM artist means I have to live in a really big city? Who came up with that?" I replied. ... "Never mind." ... "Hey, we're coming into Plexelton. Need to grab something?" "Yeah. Is there a Mickey D's?" "There's five." ... "I thought you said you didn't live in a city." "A really big one, not just a city in general. And anyways, this isn't where I live. I live in a suburb." "Well, thanks for elaborating, Vinyl Scratch." ... "This feels weird." "What feels weird?" "Driving a car with a random stranger in the back seat. Being a celebrity and just driving down the road to Plexelton. All of this." "There's two ponies in this car that feel that way." ... "You know, if we were in a romantic movie, we'd start showing the lovie-dovies towards each other only to 5 minutes later 'break up' because reasons?" "But this isn't a romantic movie." "I know that. If I didn't, I would be a mass murderer because I watched too many action movies." "Good point." ... "You saw Terminator II?" "Yeah..." "That would be the biggest influence." ... "Here we are, McDonald's." In front of the parking lot was a good-sized building with a "McDonald's" sign on it. It had ponies and foals alike outside and inside. McDonald's is popular in pretty much every place you can imagine. I and Neon get out of the car. I lock it, and we go inside the Mickey D's. There's a moderate line to the counters. We step in line. Immediately I hear gasps and whispers, not only because I forgot to leave my trademark glasses in the car, but for the same reason they are trademark in the first place. I'm the freakin' number one EDM artist in freakin' Equestria. No pressure. The young mare in front of us tuned around and immediately gasped. "OH MY GOSH IT'S VINYL!!!!11!!" Oh boy, here we go. "IT'S REALLY YOU!!!! WHATCHA ORDERING??!!!1!!!" OOOHHH boy, HEEERE we go. "Does it really matter?" I fan the fire burning in the mindless fanboy's heart. "'DOES IT REALLY MATTER?' OF COURSE IT DOES!!!!" I turn to Neon. "psst, what are you ordering?" I whisper. "you can't order for yourself?" "yes I can, but the thing I'm going to order is what everyone else is going to order. Just pick something simple and pretend I'm eating it." "so you're telling me that you want to pretend you're ordering a McDouble just because you want to save everyone else's wallets?: "YEEEEEES." I throat harshly. "ok, Charity." Neon jokes harshly back. The young mare lets us go first. I wonder why... Anyways, we get up to the counter. "Hello, welcome to McDonald's, how may I help you?" the counter pony asks. "I would like a Bacon Clubhouse for me and a McDouble for this gal over here." I do a fake blush. And maybe a real one too, IDK anymore. This does seem like some sort of a romantic movie. I'm scared. Every single person in the room gasps, including the counter pony. Well, not us, but you get the point. "Oooookaaayy, That will be 13 bits please." Neon and I fish in our pockets for some change. We bring up enough money for the 13 bits. "Thanks. Have a nice day!" the counter pony says. "You too," we say in unison. I have an urge to say "JINX" but I don't. We sit down at a random table. I overhear the young mare order a McDouble with joy. I thought so. We wait a while before a waiter mare comes and dishes our food. I didn't think McDonald's did that. Oh well, nice touch. "Are we really going with the food-swap-thing?" Neon asks. I answer by stealing "his" Clubhouse, taking it out of the box with magic (insert *snort snort* here), and taking a bite out of it. "Oh you..." I laugh while chewing. I'm calling it, this is a romantic movie.
3We're leaving the borders of Plexelton and coming into the borders of a nearby suburb, Charleston, where I live. The tidy houses, the not-too-busy traffic, and just the calm atmosphere make this place a home I love. Not what you would expect for an EDM artist, I know. And I covered that. Shut up. "Are we almost there?" Neon asks. "You sound like a spoiled foal saying that, you know?" I argue. "Yeah..." I chuckle. "We're almost there, widdle Neon Lights!" "Oh shut up," he says between chuckles. ... "You know we're conversing like a couple already, right?" he asks. "What do you mean?" ... "Well... It's just that the 'widdle Neon Lights' joke I don't think would have been made if you didn't have feelings for me." "Friends joke about each other all the time." "Well, not in that context, right?" ... "We're here, shut up." It was a nice compact little house. It had a big yard, nicely paved driveway and sidewalk, and some prunes growing next to the house. My house. "Nice place, Vinyl." "Thanks." We get out of the car, I lock it, and we walk to the house. I unlock the door and open it. It's a little chaotic, but not that much. There's papers scattered across a desk (bills, darn bills), a piano with some sheet music (Levon), and a desktop computer currently turned off, all in the living room. There's more in the bedroom, but I thought I didn't need to go there any time soon with Neon around. "A piano?" Neon gawks, somewhat in amusement. A piano is kind of a hard instrument to play, 'cause not only do you have to learn how to do cords with your hooves, but also how to actually play individual notes with hooves. But, once you get the hang of that, the world is your oyster. And it isn't yet for me, but I'm getting there. "Yes, a piano. It's good that you aren't blind." I joke. "Oh shut up." He trots over to the piano and sits down. "What, 'Levon'? What's this?" He then attempts to play notes, muttering stuff like, "Oh, that's the C..." and etc. He, of course, just sounds like a two-year-old playing on a toy keyboard. I try to stifle laughing out loud. But I can't hold it any longer. He turns around and looks at me with something that, if it can, would probably kill me. I just laugh even harder. He grunts, and goes back to Baby's First Piano Lessons. He eventually figures out a cheat method of using magic to push the keys, and seems to enjoy it, but then he tries cords and he literally passes out, plopping onto the floor like a fish. Oh dear. I laugh so loud the neighbors can probably hear me. I'm starting to pass out too, I think. I drag him to my bed. My bedroom is the only part of the house that IS a mess. Papers everywhere (I TOLD YOU ABOUT BILLS, BRO), posters of REO Speedwa- REO Speedwagon. An 80's rock band. The first band I got to listen to live, and the one that got me started to this hell-hole of stereotypes. In my bedroom. Where a total stranger is going to be resting in. I start to pull Neon out of the bed, but his head bumps on the floor, and he wakes up. "Eeehhggghhoookkkk..." He must be pretty worn out. I see him glance at the poster. "Eehhwweeehhh..." I drag him out of my bedroom and shut the door, much to his apparent distaste. He passes out again. What the heck was he doing? Trying to do two G cords at the same time while playing a complicated melody? No wait, he saw the poster, now he gets to study it. He'll pester me about it anyway. I open the bedroom door again and shove him into bed. I don't put any covers on him 'cause that would be embarrassing. I shut the door. I trot over to the piano. I straighten the sheet music and start playing. I'm playing the intro, and decide to go full-on with the song. I don't care anymore. "Levon wears his war wound like a crown. ... He calls his foal Jesus ... 'cause he likes the name. And he sends him to the finest school in town. ... Levon, Levon likes his moneeeeeey. ... He makes a lot they saaaaaaaay. ... Spends his days counting In a garage by the motorwaaaaaaay ... He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas day When the Manehatt' Times said God is dead and the war's begun. Alvin Tostig has a son today..." I hear rustling in the bedroom. I pay no heed. "And he shall be Levon And he shall be a good mare And he shall be Levon In tradition with the family plan And he shall be Levon And he shall be a good mare He shall be Levon..." I hear another person in this house sing the ending line. I turn around. Neon is kinda wobble-y but seems to have rested up. That was quick. "Why were you playing Levon by Elton John? And why do you have a REO Speedwagon poster in your freakin' bedroom?" "I'll explain later. Now, I'm asking you why you know Elton John." ... "You know what? If you're gonna explain later, then I will. Gender equality, you know?" "Oh shut up." I chuckle. I go into my closet and bring out some boxes. I set them out on the floor. "Whatcha doing?" "Packing for Plexelton," I say as I put random stuff in the boxes. "Why?" "Gonna move to Plexelton because I have to. Agent forced me too so I can get 'public visitors'. I'm getting the bills settled for this house, then I'm selling it. You want it?" "No." I chuckle. "Why? It's nice and calm out here, a-" "That's the same reason I'm not moving here. My apartment in Manehatten is fine enough." "Fine enough for what? Seeing you're 'Neon Lights' and you have Vinyl-Glasses, it seems like you're a male version of me." "Yeah... I guess so. I mean, I have a Push. Not a 2, but a Push nonetheless. Why do you need a Push anyway? If you suck at the piano, you might as well suck at the Push. Besides, there isn't really any use to it. There's like, 8 buttons. Whatcha gonna use 8 buttons for? Drum kit? I thought it was supposed to control everything?" "You know there's a Pro version? More buttons? So you can actually play a song with it?" "There is? Never saw that." "It's expensive. Well, for you at least. Plus, apparently you suck at the piano." "And now it's my turn to tell you to shut up." We chuckle. I get some more packing done. Neon keeps asking me random questions about my equipment, and I "We're gonna have to come back here in my Coporate-Van so I can put more stuff in here," I clarify. "So no more Skylark?" "No more Skylark." "Aww... I liked the backseat..." I chuckle a little. Chuckle is now the word of the day. And so we head out towards the Coparate-Home and see what awaits us.
4"So... Does this count as later?" Neon asks. "No," I reply. "Well, it isn't really fair if the definition of 'later' is determined by the user." "Yes, it isn't." I stare at Neon, who is now in the front seat, only because the back seat is full of crap. "Ok, ok, fine, I'm stupid, you're stupid, we're all stupid in our own special way, now, again?" I look back at the road. "No." "I'm sounding like a spoiled foal right now, aren't I?" "Yes. You are." ... We're about a mile to my house, as I can tell. My house is about in the center of Plexelton, and we're just approaching its borders. The skyscrapers aren't as tall as Manehatten's, but they are skyscrapers nonetheless. It's the same deal as Manehatten with the city ponies trotting around getting hot dogs and pretzels, shopping in the fashion district for, well, what do you think, and a great deal more. It could have been Manehatten if it weren't for the fact that Manehatten came first. Neon finally speaks up again. "Look, I know everyone has their preferences, but, isn't it ironic that although we both create EDM music, we don't like to listen to it as much as we like making it?" "Mmmaaaaayyyybeeeee..." ... "So does that mean we're hypocrites?" ... "Mmmaaaaayyyybeeeee..." We laugh. "Well, not really," comments Neon, "because we have the right to like whatever the heck we want." "Tell that to the thousands of fans screaming my name, and then see what you get." Neon laughs. "Oh come on, if a hundred of them will buy your McDouble, then a thousand of them will buy REO Speedwagon." "Then the conspiracy theorists will listen to it, hate it, and release theories that I am working with them to sell more copies." "Wait, you have your own conspiracy theorists?" "Seriously. Some say I'm a changeling. Making EDM music to sway the masses and steal them of their love for everyone else but me." Neon bursts out laughing. "YOU SERIOUS?" he says in-between laughs. "Yeah," I say, now laughing as hard as he is. "THESE PONIES ARE CRAZY!" "Hey, all my fans are kinda crazy too, so don't worry." Neon laughs even harder. I'm worried he's going to pass out. "Ok, ok," I say, "We're done now, we're done." Neon calms down a bit. "But I don't wanna be done laughing!" "Ya think?" Neon heaves a big sigh. "Aww, man." We arrive at our destination. It's a very, VERY tidy home, with trees and plants planted all throughout the lot. It's a big house too, about three times the size of my old one. "Looks like you got promoted," Neon jokes. I say nothing. We get out of the car. "Hey, I need you to help me with this." I command Neon. "And by 'help' you mean 'use some magic with this along with me'." "Yeah, I guess." I chuckle. I open the trunk. My computer is in there along with some other trinkets, like a "bass cannon" one. I can't believe how that "bass cannon" joke got to be immensely popular, so popular in fact, that the marketing reps command me to keep it on me at all times. It's like the world is hopeless against the mass marketing wizardry and manipulation these guys pull off. The bulk of my cargo is in the back seat. All the loose papers I had (if you guess bills, then congratulations, The Price is Right) and a folding table I had for no apparent reason were stuffed in there. The rest of my belongings will have to be moved in my Coparate-Van, which is already in the garage. I will be noticed from a mile away, but hey, you gotta pick your poison. As we're unloading the car, I get a question stuck in my head. "How did you hear rumors that I actually gave a spare key away?" "The company said it." WHAT? "What do you mean?" "They said that the winner will get a spare key to your Buick Skylark which was said to no longer be in use by you." "Well that's bull. Were they trying to get it stolen from me?" "I guess, IDK." ... "What was the bet anyway?" "Some guy told me that one of your sponsors are doing a contest to see who can re-create your music the best." "I could probably have guessed you won." "That's how I got these glasses. I could choose whatever color I wanted. But not your color. That will be confusing." I chuckle. We get the last of our items into the Corporate-House. It's, again, a roomy house, with a very elaborate stairwell into the second floor. The first room you go into is possibly supposed to be a party floor (for "guests"), so ponies that invade your house don't have to see the REO Speedwagon poster you have in your open bedroom door. The entrance-way below the stairwell goes into the living room. It has a lit fireplace (for some reason), a piano (no, it wasn't for me, it's for a professional to play during "special events", even though I'll probably use it more), and some more rich-pony stuff that I didn't ask for but I got anyway because I'm rich. That's where all my stuff is going for right now until a "professional" designer goes in and messes with my stuff. Of course, I could call that off, but they never told me how to even though I could look up online the designer and contact her saying I'm calling it off and not call it off through my agent. Oh well. Life happens. I get the last of the stuff in the living room, and I trot over to the garage. The Corporate-Van is right there. It has my face, with my trademark glasses hugging my face as I give a cheesy smile; my logo, a pair of headphones firing out blue electricity at the ear pads, and "DJ-PON3" written on the side of it. So stupid. But, I didn't tell them how to make it, so they market-sized it. That's life. I get in the van along with Neon, open the garage door, and head off to Charleston. When we get there, there isn't much to be moved other than the furniture. We put as much as we can in the van (hey, that rhymes) and go back to Plexelton. And then crazy stuff happens.
5There is a car wreck blocking our way. It was a gruesome car wreck. The front ends of both cars folded into each other, and blood is scattered in and out of the car. One pony is being dragged out of the car, presumed dead. The other is sitting there, possibly sobbing, his tears mixing with the blood trickling down his forehead. It isn't bad, but it isn't good either. We take a right. As we do so, ponies start to notice that there is a certain DJ-PON3 traveling through town, and they start to cheer. Some ponies even get out some DJ-PON3 signs and wave them as we pass by. It's both a pleasing and disturbing sight. Pleasing because they care about me so much to make signs. Disturbing because they care about me so much to make signs. "Wow," Neon exclaims. "You really have thousands of fans screaming your name." "Yeeeeeup." I find the road we're supposed to be on again and go on it. More ponies show up with even bigger and more extravagant signs. I hear a collective chant as we pass by, and it is both exciting me greatly and making me worried. A stop light emerges. We stop, but the ponies that were going to walk are pushed out of the way, and we are motioned to go. We just stand there. The cheering emerges into a roar, now finding an opportunity to show dedication to the one and only Vinyl Scratch. It scares me to think that ponies would prevent others from doing what they want to do just to be nice to some superstar. I motion the ponies pushed out of the way to walk. Instead, all of the fans walk across the crosswalk, holding their signs right in front of me. The other ponies are pushed back to make way for the fans. The light turns green, but the fans still walk. I hear horns behind me motioning me to move. But I can't. The fans are blocking me. Finally, one of the cars decide they had enough, and blare their horn as they trudge through. One unlucky fan gets hit. It isn't bad, but it knocked him out. The car stops, and as he gets out, he gets hit by the fans. Ponies are pummeling this guy for hitting one of them. I can't take it anymore. I open my van door and trot out. I motion Neon to stay. He glares at me, but submits. I gallop over to the brawling fans who are now fighting each other. Ponies are getting black-eyes. "WHY NOT YOU PONIES JUST STOP, HUH?" I yell. Everypony freezes. You know what? I don't care anymore. "JUST BECAUSE I'M BIG AND POPULAR MEANS THAT YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT, HUH? YOU SAY, 'OH, SCREW THIS MARE, HE DOESN'T LIKE DJ-PON3!' WELL, SCREW YOU TOO. NOW GET OUT OF MY WAY." I trot over to the van. Somepony throws a punch at me, and I punch him back. I connect, and he falls over unconscious. Crap. I get in the van, close the door, honk my horn, and plow through. Everypony gets out of my way as I go on to my destination. As I drive, the only thing I can ask myself is, "Why?" Why did all of these people do some sort of cruel ritual just because of music? Is this what has happened to the youth? Them being blind corporate puppets? Following what they picture as an idol or god when in reality he/she's just a pony like them who just got in the right/wrong place at the right/wrong time? If I had the will to, I would punch all of these ponies unconscious. Just a god darn waste. Why? Why did this have to happen? Why has this world become just a mass movement of... Changelings? Why? "Why?" Neon asks as we approach Corporate-House. "Why not?" "Seriously. You need to go to karate school." "Why would they do that? Push people out of the way and brawl with a bystander to please me?" "Well, one thing's for sure." I look at him in question. He finishes, "Well, these are probably the people who those conspiracy theorists think are your victims." We both laugh a little to lighten up the mood. We go into the garage and unpack the van. It takes a little longer this time, with the weight of the furniture, but we accomplish it. The living room seems a little more living-room-ish and less moving-in-ish. We both like the look. Looks like those corporate house designers had some brains after all. We are both worn out by working our magic, and we decide to get some rest. I head up to the new bedroom. It's a plain and simple bedroom with a nice, tidy bed and a desk with... A new computer on it. Hmm. That's kinda nice... I don't want to think about it. I plop on the bed. I groan in tiredness and start to doze off. I feel another plop on the bed. "Neon. What are you doing here?" "Can't I use this bed too? The couch is too short." I think of the implications this could mean. "Fine then." I close the door and plop down again. We both doze off. I pretend not to silently observe the snoring from the opposite sex.
6I had a dream. It was of me as a 6 year old being taken to watch the live concert of REO Speedwagon. My mother was a big fan, and when she heard that REO was coming to Plexelton, she literally screamed in excitement. That woke me up. My mother raced up the stairs into the nursery, picked me up in her comforting magic and raced down the stairs again, me flying through the air scared and excited at the same time. She, while carrying me, blazed through breakfast and forgot to feed me as she head into the car with my dad and drove off, all while geeking out at my dad like a fangirl. At this point, they realized what they had done, so they went to McDonalds and ordered me a small french fry. I ate it all. It was delicious. They kept driving through the road, and that's when REO came on. It was Keep On Loving You. Of course, I never heard this song before, or REO, but it sounded cool. "And I meant, every word I said When I said that I love you I meant that I love you forever" "Do you know we're gonna see these guys in concert?!?! Yaaaaaaay!" Mom said during the chorus in that baby-talk voice. I, of course, having no idea what a concert is, just sat there and said, "Ok," because I had no other response. We arrived at the big stadium with me being a little bit confused. This year, they took me to a hoofball game there. They told me about the game, how the players move the ball down the field and kick it into the goal, but I still didn't really grasp it. I didn't really care that much for it anyway. That was all I thought of it, just a hoofball stadium. So, I asked, "They're going to play hoofball?" "No, silly, they're playing music!" Mom replied. "But how are they going to play with all the hoofball players playing hoofball?" "There's no hoofball game." "Oh." My parents both laughed, and I instinctively laughed with them. I sometimes wish that child-like innocence would come back some day. It was so fun. We trotted into the stadium where we bought tickets at the door and went into the stadium. It was a roomy stadium, with about a thousand seats. We sat in the top rows. I remember being shocked at how high up we were. Even though there were many rows of seats below and in front of us, I was a little scared about falling. Then, I saw ponies set up some... Things. There was a club-like thing, many circle-like things hooked together somehow, and many other... Things. I wondered what they were going to do with all of this. Then the music started. The music blared through the stadium, crowds cheering and amazing lighting affects taking center stage. It hurt my eyes a little bit. I was fascinated by the performance, on how the ponies strummed the big club-like thing, banged sticks on the circle-like things. I thought to myself, I want to do that. It seems so cool. I had no idea what exactly it was, but it was interesting. All this time I was listening to lame foals' songs. This was something different. It was cool. "Is this a concert," I asked I remember the song that I loved the most. The one where I found out who I am. The one where I got my cutie mark at just six years old. Ridin' the Storm Out. The signature guitar note played and my mom went nuts. Then the song started. "Ridin' the storm out, waitin' for the thaw out On a full moon night in the rocky mountain winter..." My mom got up and, without asking, carried me on my back, jumping up and down. I got a little dizzy trying to watch the band while my mom kept shaking my view. I called out to her to stop, but she couldn't hear me over the loudness of the performance. Oh well. "And I'm not missing a thing watchin' the full moon crossing the range Ridin' the storm out, ridin' the storm out Ridin' the storm out, ridin' the storm out" My mom stopped jumping but was still screeching with excitement. I wondered if she was going to pass out. Eventually, she calmed down, her throat possibly hurting from all the screaming, and got back down. I still was just laying on her back, watching the show. "Lady beside me and she's there to guide me She says that alone we've finally found our home And the wind outside is frightening But it's kinder than the lightning life in the city It's a hard enough to live but it give back of what you give And I'm not missing a thing watchin' the full moon crossing the range ridin' the storm out, ridin' the storm out ridin' the storm out, ridin' the storm out Woah, yes I am" I felt all the instruments combine into some sort of epic melody. All the parts just felt great with each other. I felt more than ever the desire to do what they do. Heck, I'll carry all the instruments in magic and play them all at once. I'll be a one-mare-band. I just want to do this. But I still have no idea what exactly it is. During the last bridge, I asked my mom, "What is this?" "It's rock, sweetheart." Rock. A lot of things were rocking here. The crowd, the club-like things, the ponies on stage... I guess that's why it's called rock. Everyone rocks in Rock. Then something ticked in my mind. "It's cool!" I said, realizing that this is what I want to do with my life. Rock. Rock, rock, and rock some more. This is where I belong. In a concert, fascinated by the displays. In a tour bus, putting together a gig. At home, playing a riff on a guitar. I want to rock. "I know, right? You wanna be like them?" By now, I knew my answer fair and square. "Yeah!" In the big finale, I felt a little warmer on my butt. My cutie mark is not signifying me of being a DJ. It's signifying me as being a music fanatic. And to this day, when I get the chance too, I pick up my vintage Fender Stratocaster and play a tune on it. Preferably REO. I was thinking about this when I woke up.
1.5We're driving down a land of corn fields. We've been driving for two days now. I don't want to go into the details, but I'll go into one big moment. I needed to fuel up my car, so I stop by a 7-Eleven and magic-grab the pump. Neon gets out of the car as I start pouring the gas in. "So, what brought you here?" asks Neon. "To Bang Sistahs?" I confirm. "Yeah." "I wanted to test out that finger-contraption." "What?" "You weren't there watching, weren't you?" "Nope, I was outside with my bro's, smoking a joint." ... "What?" "Just kidding, I was hijacking your car." ... "I don't know which one's worse." ... "Me neither." We chuckled at that. I got up to full, put the pump back, and closed the fuel door. I headed towards the 7-Eleven. "You want a Coke?" I ask Neon. "Sure." He follows me in, I get a Coke and a granola bar, he gets a Coke and a Rice Krispies Treat. We check out and get back in the car. "This is the first time I had a Coke with a celebrity," he says. "This is the first time someone said that to me," I continue. "This is the first time someone said THAT to me." "This is the... Oh, whatever." We enjoy the nice crispy Coke and... food item and get back on the road.
Meanwhile...===MEANWHILE, IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE...=== A mare is sitting at his computer wondering what the heck he's doing. He looks at the self-post he is typing. Is he even supposed to do this? Is this a good way to convey to the audience of this fanfiction that he doesn't have a clue where this story is supposed to go? He looks up. 47 unique visitors. 143 total. 2 comments, about nothing, really. 4 likes. 2 dislikes. The same figures as the 3rd of December, more or less. Is this going anywhere? Did he miss the opportunity for more people to come? Does anyone care anymore? All these questions plague this pale-green young mare and more. He then sets his grass-green gradient hooves onto the keyboard, and clicks on the color wheel. And then he starts typing again. Dear FIMFiction. I am sorry for the delay of content for my fanfiction, 780. I haven't been motivated to work on this project anymore. Nobody really seems to care. I am releasing a new chapter today, just for you. Then, I'll work on the next chapters of the story to be delivered by Hearths Warming Eve. Thanks. -Lonk Chase He clicks save, and then publish. ===AND NOW WE RETURN TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING===
