780 [OLD]

I'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.