There are a few things in the world that Noteworthy Clifford Parchment loves. The first is his music, which he toils endlessly to make a name for himself. The results are less than satisfactory for him, but the silver lining is that what he is able to do gets the bills paid. The second is Octavia Melody Pie-Parchment. Despite her being the middle child of fifteen Pie kids, she did not come out mentally damaged, unlike her fourteen sisters who all appear to have a social malfunction of some kind. She is beautiful, too, so he got a great deal of amazing looks and personality in one package. He truly feels for her father, though. As any stallion knows living with multiple mares only works in hentai, fan fiction and poor writing. That aside, his last love is sleep. Wonderful sleep.
Sleep would be at the top of his list since it has all sorts of health benefits and leaves him rejuvenated. Plus it gives him a chance to sleep on his bed with the two thousand thread count sheets that cost him a fortune and a half. Only five years left on the payments, really. Now, Noteworthy is sleeping on his comfortable bed with his comfortable sheets sleeping a comfortable sleep in a comfortable darkness.
That brings in the next point. If there are three things Noteworthy hates, they are being interrupted, having his sleep disturbed and a critic trashing his work. He'd like to see these “critics” write something, but they never do. As for being interrupted, such things ruin the flow, and a good run of productivity turns into a five hour distraction, a day wasted and depending on the situation, either a visit to the jail, the hospital or Bon Bon's so she can go to the jail or hospital. The sleep disruption he hates above all else, for it is detrimental to his health and throws his internal clock into a terrible spin in which there is no escape... For three weeks.
Now, he has come face to face with his mental foe, and its presence is signaled by a tap on his head and a psst.
At first Noteworthy tries to ignore it, but the tapping and psst-ing persists, and when the tapping gets harder and faster and the psst-ing more quick to the point where it sounds like a box of soda having the last of its syrup sucked out, he shields his head with his hoof.
“Stop, demon,” moans Noteworthy.
“Hey, Notes, I need to talk to you,” says Lucky.
“Wut?” groans Noteworthy. His hoof drags his retro, digital alarm clock so he can get a better view of it. He has some trouble focusing on it due to the crust in his eyes and the tired tears that cloud everything, but when the little card flips to the next number he groans and slams his face in his pillow. “Lucky, its one thirty in the morning. Can't it wait?”
“No. We need to talk, right now. Its super, duper important,” Lucky bangs his hoofs just in front of Noteworthy, making the mattress squeak and the other squeeze his eyes tighter and pull his pillow around his face. “Come on, don't be a butt wipe. Please listen to me!”
Noteworthy huffs, pushes the pillow down and glares at Lucky with bloodshot eyes burdened by dark bags.
“Fine, but make it quick,” says Noteworthy.
“Okay,” says Lucky, smiling.
The ticks and tocks of the retro clock sound like drums in the silence, and moonlight reflects off of Noteworthy's wet, tired eyes as he stares at Lucky with dwindling patience. A patience so rapidly fading, in fact, that a burning match tossed in a cup of water has a longer survival rate.
“Well?” says Noteworhy, barely able to lift his hoof for emphasis.
“I had a dream,” says Lucky.
Noteworthy yawns and puts his face back in his fluffy pillow. “That's nice.”
“And I dreamed that I was punching a midget.”
Noteworthy cracks a tired eye open and frowns at Lucky. “And why were you punching midgets?”
“That's the thing, I don't know.” Lucky sits down and looks at the floor, ears drooped and eyes aimlessly searching below. “I think it was because this midget was so happy and that happiness just really, really ticked me off. Sort of like when your alarm clock does that scree-scree-scree-scree thing at four thirty in the morning. Only, I've never wanted to punch your clock, only light it on fire and beat it with a bat.”
Noteworthy drags his alarm clock closer to himself. “Why are we roommates again?”
“Because we're best friends?” offers Lucky
“I'm you're only friend, Lucky. And that's being generous.”
“I got Bon Bon.”
Noteworthy's body cramps up when he adjusts himself so he is laying on all four hoofs, keeping his front limbs tucked underneath him, and he cranes his neck so he and Lucky are nearly nose to nose.
“Yeah, and how long will that last with all times she's had to bail you out of jail or hide stuff from your parole officer?” says Noteworthy harshly, which appears to have zero effect on Lucky. “You're taking advantage of that poor girl's kindness and sooner or later she's going to get sick of it and kick you out of her life.”
“Hey, she does it because she likes me. Besides, you hide my stuff, too, so I know you like me,” says Lucky, his smile returning.
“I don't hide. I strongly imply that I don't know anything. Big difference.”
Lucky scrunches his brows. “Really?”
“Yes, and frankly I don't think anypony likes you. You're destructive to yourself and others, you're a liar, a cheater, and honestly there are days where I think you might be a sociopath.”
Lucky rubs his chin thoughtfully. “So, what does this have to do with me punching midgets?”
Noteworthy groans irritably and burrows himself under his sheets, speaking along the way.
“How should I know? I'm not a dream pony,” says Noteworthy. Once comfortable, he pulls the blanket over himself and closes his eyes. “Why not ask Luna for help or something? Now go away so I can get some sleep.”
“You really think Luna or something will help me?” says Lucky, his tone devolving from innocent to aggravated. “I'll tell you what, Notes, Lucky may be my name and my special talent may be luck and gambling, but help was something I was never lucky with.”
Lucky looks down, swallowing and blinking the shimmer out of his eyes.
“In fact you're the helpfulest and luckiest part of my life,” says Lucky quietly.
Noteworthy looks at Lucky, still tired at a crippling state, but his annoyance is gone and replaced with concern. His roommate/questionable friend is staring at the floor, eyes locked, ears down and body sinking, and even though Lucky is a pain, physically, emotionally and financially, it still tugs on his heartstrings to see him like that.
“You said that you punched the midget because the midget was happy, right?” says Noteworthy after some silence.
Lucky nods.
“Has it ever occurred to you that you are so miserable inside that just the mere thought of somepony being happy drives you nuts? Like, the midget was a manifestation of the happiness you can't have and you just, I don't know, lashed out?” says Noteworthy.
Lucky and Noteworthy stare at each other, both wide eyed but for different reasons,and Lucky's hoof, ears and eyebrows rise with his growing smile. Soon enough his smile looks painfully large and disturbs Noteworthy a bit, and him taking a long, deep breath is not helping the sleepy pony's nerves, any.
“That...” begins Lucky. “Is incredibly stupid.”
Lucky's hoof drops like a rock and Noteworthy snorts explosively and presses his face into his pillow while his roommate giggles.
“Like, wow, what a stupid idea,” says Lucky. “You know what, thank you for your help and all, but I think I'll just go to Twilight's place. I'm sure she's got a dream dictionary I can use so I can get to the bottom of this mystery.”
“Yeah, you go do that,” says Noteworthy moodily, wishing Lucky would go away so he can finish sleeping. However, sleep is kept away just a bit longer since his shoulder is being poked at and his name called constantly. After the tenth round Noteworthy snaps up like a whack-a-mole target, and his crazed bloodshot eyes lock on to Lucky's with damnation clear on his mind. “What!?”
“By the way, I just wanted to thank you for listening. My moms and dads never did that,” says Lucky. He smiles and pats Noteworthy on the cheek. “Have a good night, buddy. Tomorrow, I'm making waffles. No, wait. Today I'm making waffles. Yeah, waffles!”
“Yeah, whatever. Good night,” says Noteworthy as he lays back down, gripping his pillow tight.
Next to him, Octavia yawns and nuzzles her pillow, covering most of her face in her messy, bedhead mane and her hoof flopping on Noteworthy.
“Whenz yer friend gunna git hiz own place?” slurs Octavia.
Noteworthy sighs and turns on his back to look at his incredibly bland ceiling, keeping his hoof above Octavia's. “Probably never. At least he's making us waffles, tomorrow. Or today. Whatever. I'm going back to sleep.”
AT SUNLIGHT!
Noteworthy stares at the scene, eyes bulged and jaw dropped, and Octavia's face is hidden in her hoof while Lyra offers a comforting hoof for Bon Bon, who is crying hysterically. Around them is a group of ponies, all shocked and murmuring among themselves in response to a super market being engulfed by a green, sparkling inferno with skulls in the flames. And being led away in chains by Flash Sentry and half a dozen guards, bloodied and bruised and still fighting, is Lucky.
“Arresting me for what? Arresting me for what?” says Lucky, his voice slurred from the blood in his mouth. “I'm not allowed to stand up for myself? I thought this was Equestria, huh. Is this Equestria? I'm sorry, I thought this was Equestria!”
And then he is shoved in a prison cart and taken off towards the sunset.
The.
End.