780 [OLD]

We'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.