780 [OLD]

There 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.