Every Breath You Take

by AlwaysDressesInStyle

Rating: everyone
Tags: Human, Other, Comedy, Minty, Self Insert, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 6112

Little ponies come to karaoke night.

Ponies are musical by nature. I enjoy making a fool out of myself in front of crowds. It was bound to happen sooner or later... Karaoke is love it or hate it, and the ponies have no idea what they're in for.

Additional Characters: Razzaroo, Sunny Daze, Sparkleworks

Special thanks to Admiral Biscuit for pre-reading and cover art!

Published 2022-01-07 23:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-01-07 23:30:01 UTC

Every Move You Make

Say what you will about Minty’s car, but it’s impossible to lose in a parking lot. I park my Mustang next to her mint green Mustang II Ghia. Some of her other friends have already arrived, and I see Razzaroo’s early ‘80s Foxbody in the parking lot as well. Little ponies like Mustangs. I’m okay with this. Given the choice between hanging out with human pony car enthusiasts and their equine counterparts, I’ll take the latter every time. I’m not the standard Mustang owner, a point that has been hammered home to me repeatedly over the years.

Of course, I’ve also never blown my motor by revving it to show off, nor run someone over trying to do a burnout leaving a car show. YouTube is full of videos of moronic ‘Stang owners failing to impress equally idiotic crowds that don’t have enough common sense to get out of the way. Ponies tend not to do stupid things like that. They also gravitate towards some of the least liked, lowest performance variants of the pony car, like Minty’s Deuce or Razz’s four-eyed Foxbody. I’m okay with this, too. Someone has to appreciate them.

Impromptu Mustang meet in the parking lot or not, tonight isn’t about cars. Tonight… tonight we sing. Or more correctly, they sing, and I butcher some of the biggest hits of the ‘80s. Ever since I first met the ponies when they opened a car wash, I’ve been entranced with their musical voices. I could listen to Minty read the phone book. I know it to be true because she has, and I have.

Karaoke is one of those things people really love, or really hate. There’s no real in-between on the topic. I can’t pay my friends to join me. I have no doubt that they would pay me to never hear me sing ever again. Not that I can blame them for that… Karaoke, to me, is putting on a show. For some, it’s about cringe. There would doubtlessly be cringing later in the evening. Then there are the folks who take it seriously. An ex-girlfriend of mine used to take karaoke so seriously that she’d bring her own disc of show tunes in case the DJ didn’t have her selections available. With their musical voices, I suspect the ponies are in the latter category. They’re in for an experience tonight.

Finding a table full of ponies in a crowded restaurant is even easier than finding their cars in the parking lot. I don’t bother waiting to be seated, I pull up a chair to their table and Minty introduces me to some of her friends that I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet. The first is Sparkleworks, an orange mare with pink hair and bursting fireworks for a cutie mark. One of Minty’s best friends plays with explosives. There’s no possible way this can end well. She insists that I call her ‘Sparks’.

Razzaroo is next, though I already know her well enough that she greets me with a nuzzle. I return her affection with an ear scratch. Sunny Daze rounds out the group, a white pony with a sun cutie mark and beautiful pink, purple, yellow, and orange hair.

Normally, it’s up to the singer to carry the mic while they sing. With so many ponies in the audience, however, a microphone stand has been set up.

Minty’s up first, and she’s picked an Equestrian ballad that’s somber and melancholy, exactly the opposite of the silly, bubbly mare I know. Even though most of the audience doesn’t know what the song is about, by the time she’s done, there’s not a dry eye in the house. It’s a side of Minty I’ve never seen before. There’s even a tear in her own eye as she sits down at our table.

“That was beautiful. What’s it about?”

“It’s a song about being far away from home and missing your loved ones. Life happens and she never makes it back.”

The words ring true for the gathered ponies. I can tell they’ve each been thinking of loved ones a world away. I sometimes forget they’ve left so much behind to come here to Earth. The only thing I can think of is to hug the mares closest to me, Minty and Sparkleworks, and before long the whole table is one giant group hug.

Sparkleworks is the next from our group to get up, and she selects a popular tune from this side of the portal, bringing high energy to Lady Gaga’s The Edge Of Glory. The song only serves to highlight the need for more saxophone solos in today’s popular music. From the crowd’s reaction, she’s knocked it out of the park.

The bar has been set high and I’m up next. I bring out my A-game. It doesn’t matter that I can’t carry a tune if you hand it to me. This is the one of the few songs I can do that gets a positive reaction from the audience. I grab the microphone and wait for the music to start. There’s a gasp as someone realizes what I’ve picked. People think I’m crazy. They’re probably right…

“Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnny Ray…”

We Didn’t Start The Fire is my signature tune. Billy Joel’s ears would bleed if he heard me sing it, but nothing fires up a crowd like nailing the lyrics. Bonus points for not needing to look at the prompter.

“Rock-and-roller cola wars, I can’t take it anymore!” The song fades out, repeating the chorus too many times. Joel could’ve crammed in some more verses if he’d have cut the outro down a bit.

The ponies have no clue what I’ve just done. Half the audience is applauding, and my equine friends can’t figure out why. I don’t think any of them know the song, but they can all tell that it very much wasn’t in tune.

“That was, um, good? I think?”

I pat Minty’s head. “It isn’t about singing it right; it’s about memorizing the lyrics. That’s apparently impressive. Personally, I just think it means I’m too fond of the song.”

Minty nodded.

Sunny Daze is up right after me, and she sings Katrina and the Waves’ Walking On Sunshine with a twist. She’s trotting instead of walking. The mare’s absolutely glowing, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s got something to do with her cutie mark. It’s a happy, quick song, and the kind of thing I would’ve pictured Minty singing.

The next person in line sings Alabama’s I’m In A Hurry and then it’s Razzaroo’s first turn for the evening. She picks an upbeat Equestrian song. I have no idea what’s she’s singing about, but it’s fast and she pours a lot of energy into it. Everyone’s clapping along/stomping hooves to the beat by the time she’s done.

She declines to explain what it’s about, though the other three mares at the table are smirking when she sits back down.

The rest of the crowd cycles through, and we’re treated to/tormented by various genres. Mostly classic rock, with some country and pop mixed in. And one country-rap abomination. I didn’t know rap and country could be fused. These are things that should be mutually exclusive. If it’s urban, it isn’t country, and if it’s country, it isn’t urban. My imagination is running wild. Yo dawgs, Keith Urban here, talking about what it was like growing up on the mean streets of Davenport, Iowa. Eminem here to tell you about how special it was when my Dad handed me the keys to my first pickup truck. Just no.

As we wait, the conversation turns to small talk. I learn that Minty and Razzaroo used to be in a band called the Gee Threes. Razz was the guitarist, and Minty was the drummer.

After hearing Minty’s first selection, I can’t help but make a suggestion. She doesn’t know the song, but goes outside to listen to it a few times on her phone. With her magical voice, penchant for sad ballads, and the revelation that she’s also a drummer, there’s only one possible choice. Or rather, dozens of choices from one particular artist.

Minty only has the chance to listen the song twice before her turn rolls around again, but she gives it her best. Minty’s not Karen Carpenter, but her voice does Superstar justice, and she gives it her own unique take. Carpenter’s voice was rich like butter. Minty’s is sweet like honey. The song is a bittersweet tune about a groupie who loves a superstar singer, and wants nothing more than to see him again, and will never get her wish. Minty’s version gives it just a tinge of optimism.

Because our group arrived early, we dominate the first part of the rotation. When Minty’s done, it’s Sparky’s turn, with me following. Sparkleworks has given in to my pleading, and has picked a Gee Threes song. She was unconnected to the band, aside from being friends with the members, but it gives me an idea of what their music is like. It’s a genre I know well from this side of the portal: disco. You can call it ‘electronic’ or ‘dance’ but it all boils down to disco.

If the instrumental background is anything at all like the original, Minty’s got the disco ‘four on the floor’ beat down, and Razz is incredibly good on the guitar for, you know, not having fingers. Now that I’ve had a taste of their music, it’s only whetted my appetite for more.

Sparkleworks finishes and I’m up next. ‘80s power ballads are my preferred genre, and Air Supply’s my favorite band. Making Love Out Of Nothing At All is pretty much their only fast song. This is the song I know inside and out. It’s not in tune, there’s no way I could ever hope to hit Russell Hitchcock’s soaring tenor notes. I don’t care. This isn’t American Idol or America’s Got Talent. This is karaoke night. I’m not even recording this to put on YouTube. If you’re not here, tonight, you’re not seeing this. Period. There’s no need for there to be evidence that this is a thing that happened. Mic in hand, I wander around the restaurant, making it blatantly obvious I’m not looking at the screen to help with the lyrics.

I stop by my table and sing, “Making love…”

“Out of nothing at all!” answer the mares.

Sure, the part I’d just sung was part of the background music, and the ponies had sung my part, but the audience is eating it up. I stand up and the ponies follow me like I’m the Pied Piper as I continue roaming the restaurant.

“Do you really wanna see me crawl?” I drop to the floor, crawling on my knees before springing back up to my feet. I’m going to feel that one tomorrow. The floor’s not carpeted and I’m wearing shorts. Apply knees directly to concrete. Oof.

I don’t know if she can sense that I’m in pain, or if perhaps I’m favoring one leg or the other, but Minty pushes underneath me and takes me on her back. Now I’m riding around the restaurant on a miniature pastel green pony while singing Air Supply. I’m grateful for the ride. I’m even more grateful that I don’t see the ubiquitous cell phone cameras being held up to record this.

Sunny continues to follow me in the rotation, and with her second selection of the night a theme becomes apparent. She croons Sunshine On My Shoulder, once more choosing to alter a word in the chorus to something suitable for a pony, in this case ‘shoulders’ is cut in favor of ‘withers’. As she continues singing, it feels like the ambient temperature in the restaurant has gone up ten degrees. Had I known she was going to sing this, I’d have chosen a different Carpenters song for Minty to sing: Rainy Days And Mondays for the irony. Sunny’s singing has an intensity that isn’t matched by the slow instrumental. She’s reimagined John Denver’s soulful ballad as a power ballad, and she could use the E Street Band or REO Speedwagon backing her instead.

Once more there’s a break before Razz’s turn. Someone with a penchant for country and western snuck between us when we were putting in our song selections, and this time around he’s picked The Gambler by Kenny Rogers. While we wait, Minty is fussing over my knees. I shoo her away, not because I’m trying to be macho, but because she’s Minty, and I don’t want her to make things worse.

Razzaroo makes it worth the wait, belting out Girls Just Wanna Have Fun so well that even Cyndi Lauper would be proud. It shocks me that neither she nor Minty was the lead singer of the Gee Threes.

Once again we’ve got a long wait until any of us are up again, and the mares slip into the comfortable conversation that comes from old friends who’ve known each other for years. Remembering days past that I have no reference for; I excuse myself and wander the restaurant. Sports memorabilia lines the walls, celebrating the ‘local’ sports teams from the nearest big cities, as well as the Pittsburgh teams, since the restaurant chain is headquartered there. Many of the pictures are signed, implying that the celebrities had visited this location at some point in the past.

There are televisions spread out throughout the restaurant, all tuned to various sporting events. Most are tuned to the same college football game, though a few are playing a hockey game and one is showing wrestling. I’ve never been interested in sports, but I know enough about football to at least enjoy a decent game. Sadly, this is anything but a decent game, with a score so lopsided there should be a mercy rule in effect. At this point in the game, the team that’s ahead could bench their third string and play their cheerleaders and they’d still win.

I take my time getting back to our table and the ponies all hush as I draw near. That’s never a good sign.

Everypony looks at Minty and she clears her throat. “So the girls and I were talking…”

Yup, I already don’t like where this is going.

“We’re all willing to chip in to get you singing lessons.”

They’re completely missing the point of karaoke. I assure them that that won’t be necessary. They look disappointed.

“But your singing…” Minty trembles her lower lip. “It hurts.”

“You’ve got a nice baritone. It comes out periodically,” Sunny adds.

“I assure you, that’s entirely by accident.”

“We know!” they chorus.

“Everypony’s a critic.” I roll my eyes.

“Everypony has Harmony. It’s inside all of us.” Minty thumps her chest, probably where her heart is, if I had to guess. I make a mental note to look up equine anatomy when I get home.

“I’m not a pony.”

“There’s a spell for that!” Razzaroo offers, helpfully.

“I’d probably be a really ugly stallion. I bet I’d be some garish color scheme.”

“Humans always turn into ponies with black coats and red hair for some reason. If you ever see a pony in that color combination, there’s a 90% chance they used to be human.”

I ponder that for a second. “What happens when they change back?”

Razzaroo blinked. “Change back? You mean back into a human? Why would anypony want to do that?”

“Hypothetically then. Would it be possible to go back to being a human?” They all shrug in response, and that’s enough of an answer for me.

That leads to the single most uncomfortable discussion I’ve ever taken part in. The girls debate what I would look like as a pony. In great detail. Then they debate who I’d find the most attractive among them. I finally suggest Flitter, since she had wisely not joined us for karaoke night. That leads to them suggesting I have a crush on her, and Minty goes so far as to offer to set us up on a date. Sometimes I can’t win for losing.

Minty’s next turn can’t come fast enough. I really need more human friends. Ones willing to do things other than going to car shows. Credit where it’s due, the ponies are always up for trying something new, which is more than I can say for most of my other friends. It’s more than I can say for myself most of the time too. The ponies are surprisingly good at getting me out of my comfort zone.

After several unsuccessful tries, I finally manage to change the subject.

Minty was kind enough to humor me by singing a song I picked, and it’s only fair I return the favor and sing something she picks. Minty’s suggestion is something that… well, when I get up to the microphone I’m just going to say I lost a bet. That’s the kind of thing the crowd will eat up. It also sets the bar low, and it gives me an excuse to stand outside for a few minutes, listening to the song I’m about to maul on Minty’s cell phone.

Sparks sends a text to the phone and it vibrates. That’s my cue to get back inside. Minty’s up and much to my surprise, Razzaroo is up with her.

Sunny Daze grins at me. “They’re doing a Gee Threes song. Just for you.”

It’s pure, unabashed, unashamed disco. It’s the kind of song I could really shake my groove thing to… if I knew how to dance. I ask if there’s a dance that goes with the song, and Sunny and Sparkleworks hop out of their seats and start shaking their rumps. I get up with them, doing my best to imitate their moves. It’s a quadrupedal dance, and I’m bipedal. I have an excuse for not being any good at it. Several others get up with us, and a few of them manage to do a convincing job of adapting the dance to two legs.

When they’re done, I give Minty and Razz a hug, thanking them for indulging me. Sparkleworks responds by singing the national anthem. Not the Equestrian national anthem, but The Star-Spangled Banner.

I’m not a regular at karaoke night, but I’m not a newbie by any stretch of the imagination either. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard it being performed at karaoke. It’s a complex song not particularly suited for novices. The crowd rises to its feet, though some of them are leaning on others for support.

I’m next in the rotation, and I take advantage of the situation. “Gentlemen… and the Busch brothers… start your engines!” A couple of people in the audience chuckle, and I instantly know who the NASCAR fans are.

My third pick of the night is one of the most-played songs in the world. Almost everyone knows it. It opens with a title drop. “Every breath you take…”

There are a few reasons I’ve picked this song. The first is it’s one of my favorites and I know it well. Creepy stalker lyrics aside, it’s an iconic song known the world over. Secondly… Sting holds the ‘please’ in the middle of the song for an extended period of time and it fades out gradually. I keep holding it. My voice wavers the longer I hold the note, and when I look over at my table, every equine ear is pinned to their scalps. The rest of the audience, however, responds favorably to the long note.

I sit back down at the table when I’m done, but Sparkleworks is preoccupied by something outside.

“What’s so interesting in the parking lot?”

“Nothing. I’m checking the window for cracks.”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes, it was,” Minty argues. “You’re taking those vocal lessons. End of discussion.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Minty rolls her eyes.

Sunny Daze makes her way to the microphone and continues her theme with You Are My Sunshine. Another song I’ve never heard performed at karaoke before. It’s hard to believe that the schoolyard classic was ever popular on the charts, but it was a big hit in the 1940s, covered by a bunch of artists in different genres.

The country fan has dropped out of the rotation, and a quick scan of the restaurant doesn’t turn him up. That means Razzaroo now directly follows Sunny, and she’s got KC and the Sunshine Band on tap. She’s chosen (Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty, and she shakes her rump to the lyrics.

I avert my eyes, not needing to have Razz’s butt burned into my memory. Others in the audience aren’t as lucky, and stare slackjawed as if watching a train wreck.

She finishes and sits back at the table. “I shook my booty, yes, yes, yes!”

“You certainly did. My eyes may never stop bleeding.”

She sticks her tongue out at me.

It’s a longer wait until we’re next up. Our turns get fewer and further between as liquid courage starts flowing ever more freely as the night rolls on. The nice thing about doing karaoke stone cold sober is that you can get more turns that way. The bad thing about it… well, you remember when you miss with a song. Or when someone else does. A very drunken performance of Bohemian Rhapsody flattens every equine ear, and I wish mine could join them.

“I’ll give him some credit. He sings it better than Freddie Mercury does these days.”

“How long has he been dead?” Sparkleworks catches on quickly.

“Since 1991.”

Sparkleworks nods. “His song joined him tonight. May they both rest in peace.”

This is immediately followed by a rendition of Old Time Rock And Roll that’s so flat that Alexa or Siri could’ve sang it better in their robotic monotones. The only thing this singer changes is his volume. Looking around the table, I think this has legitimately traumatized the ponies.

Sunny Daze turns to me. “I’ll give you credit. Even if it’s by accident, you at least get some of the notes right, periodically. This, however, is well and truly torture.”

“Make it stop…” Minty whimpers.

I stand up and motion for the girls to follow me. It’s a mild evening, and I lead them to the parking lot for some fresh air, and much needed silence. The distant sound of a train blowing its horn is the only noise breaking the tranquility.

“I thought this was supposed to be a night for singing.” Minty’s ears are still flattened.

“It is. But that doesn’t mean everyone who comes out can actually sing. If you’re lucky, some of them can. Karaoke is really more like cringe comedy. It’s a great way to have some fun making fools of ourselves. But some people do take it seriously, and the band Journey found their current lead singer by looking up videos of people singing their songs on the internet. I go to have fun and hopefully entertain people. I want to make them laugh.”

“Have you considered stand-up comedy instead?” Razzaroo’s sarcasm cuts deep.

“Pretty sure my karaoke is funnier than any of my jokes. It’s why I’m not really interested in taking singing lessons.”

“No, no, no. You’re not getting out of that so easily. If you’re going to keep hanging out with us, you will learn how to sing. Even if we have to turn you into a pony.”

Minty, Sunny, and Sparky all nod in agreement.

They drive a hard bargain: take vocal lessons or lose what little social life I have.

At first I think they’re just being a pain in the neck for no reason, but as they keep talking, it turns out Harmony is more or less their religion. Harmony of voice, harmony of being, everyone and everything in harmony. Bad singing causes them physical pain. Not that there aren’t ponies who can’t sing, but even those with no vocal talent still find themselves in tune during the many crowd songs that take place in Equestria. That’s where the bone of contention is coming from – without Equestrian magic, I won’t be in harmony when they inevitably burst into song around me. I also won’t know the words to the song, and hence won’t be joining in anyway, but my logic is ignored. The mares have made a decision.

Now that I know that bad singing hurts their ears, I regret inviting them out for karaoke. There’ve been a few good singers tonight, but they were outnumbered by the ones who, like me, aren’t.

We sit on the benches in front of the restaurant for half an hour, watching the cars come and go and having a deep conversation on Equestrian spiritualism. I’d never thought to ask them what their religion was like. I know their princesses can raise the sun and moon, and I’d basically thought that it revolved around them. Religion and politics are the two subjects I don’t get into with any frequency. But they’re not trying to convert me, and I’m genuinely curious.

It's not what I expected.

Minty’s phone buzzes, letting her know it’s almost her turn again. We walk back in as the last notes of a Puff Daddy song fade away. Next is a Shania Twain tune, and the college co-ed who’s singing it is pretty, not to mention pretty tipsy. She misses her cue, and only starts singing three lines into the song.

Despite that, we’ve heard worse tonight. The ponies’ consensus is that she can probably sing, but needed too much liquid courage to perform, which has impaired her talent.

Then Minty’s up. It’s another sad ballad, but this time I’m flabbergasted when I hear the first opening notes. All Out Of Love. Normally, I’m the only person who picks anything by Air Supply. I didn’t even know Minty knew this song.

There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s picked this song because of me. But why?

She returns to our table and hops onto my lap. She’s sat on my lap enough times that we both know how she should be positioned so that her mass of solid earth pony doesn’t hurt my legs. When she blatantly ignores that, I know she’s trying to get my attention. “You’re going to take those vocal lessons, right? We don’t want to be ‘so lost without you’ any more than you do.”

We’re missing Sparks’ singing, despite how loud the speakers are. Minty’s made her point, and she rests her forehooves on my shoulders to look me in the eyes. There’s no way to avoid eye contact. That’s unfair.

“You’re really going to torture some poor vocal coach? How about I just promise not to sing around you guys? After tonight, that is.”

“That’s not fair to you. You obviously enjoy singing. So why be so resistant to improving?” I don’t have an answer, and she smiles victoriously. “Exactly. I’m so glad we came to this agreement.” She nuzzles me, and slides off my lap and onto the seat next to me.

We’ve completely missed Sparkleworks’ song, and it’s my turn. This one is Minty’s selection, and for the first time in a long time I actually feel nervous. Even prefacing my performance with the little white lie of having lost a bet doesn’t help ease my nerves. Normally, I know the songs I’m singing better than this. I may not sing them well, but at least I know the lyrics well enough to not need to look. This time I need the lyrics in front of me, and even then I’m unsure about my performance. I always thought if I was going to sing a song about the eyes of a tiger, it would be by Survivor, not Katy Perry. The ponies have all joined me by the mic, and it becomes apparent why soon enough.

My performance is met with laughter, and I can’t help but laugh along with the audience. I’m the wrong gender, age, and demographic for this song. It doesn’t help that my backup singers are all saying ‘neigh’ instead of ‘hey’ for the roaring part.

If they gave out awards for karaoke, this would take ‘funniest’ on this given night for sure.

A table of six college-aged girls sings along, and I point the mic at them for a verse. They’ve all grown up with this song, and know it far better than I could ever hope to.

Sunny Daze once more takes the mic from me, and once more her song contains ‘sun’ in the title. This time she’s picked the Beatles’ Here Comes The Sun. You would think the Fab Four would be more popular at karaoke. Maybe people respect their songs too much to butcher them. Sunny certainly gives the song it’s due, and I can’t help but think that George Harrison would be proud to see his song appealing to a demographic he never could’ve imagined when writing it more than fifty years ago.

Razzaroo’s performance is next, completing our turns in this rotation. She’s picked Working For The Weekend and she encourages the audience to join her in singing it.

When her song is over, it’s back to the waiting game. It’s still early enough that we can all get another turn. The next person in line takes me by surprise and sings a Devo song that isn’t Whip It. The only things missing from his performance of Girl U Want are the yellow jumpsuit and the flowerpot hat.

Our server comes around to top off our drinks, and advises that the kitchen will soon be closing. The ponies don’t order any additional food, though I place an order for a pastrami sandwich to go. I don’t eat meat around the ponies, but their pastrami is too good to leave without. It can be lunch tomorrow.

I’m not the only singer taking a crack at a song I shouldn’t. Not to be outdone by my performance of Roar, a man nearly a full head taller than me belts out The Bangles’ Eternal Flame. The difference is, his version’s actually good while my cover was… comedic.

The night wouldn’t be complete without a dubious performance of Don’t Stop Believin’, and the only hard part to believe is that it took three hours for someone to finally get up and sing it. The singer’s no Steve Perry, but I’ve heard worse. I’ve sang worse, too. The memory of performing Barry Manilow’s Can’t Smile Without You and having cleared out the bar save for the DJ, the bartender, and my friends will never truly leave my head. Slow songs require someone who can actually sing. That’s not me, and never will be… unless the ponies get their way and I take lessons.

I’m not sure if it’s my area, or if they’re the demographics that enjoy karaoke, but classic rock and country songs dominate. I’d expect to hear more rap or R&B, but there’s very little of either on offer. Sir Mix-A-Lot’s Baby Got Back catches my attention. I usher the ponies outside, fibbing that it’s another performance from the guy we’d dubbed ‘Johnny Onenote’, who’d mangled Bob Seger’s classic earlier. As Razzaroo’s earlier performance demonstrated, ponies need very little excuse to shake their rumps, and a song about liking big butts is more of an excuse than any of them need. They’re all earth ponies, and all very proud of their bulk. My understanding is that earth ponies are proud of their muscles, because it shows they’re hard workers, and their fat, because it shows potential mates that they’ll never want for food. But the fat has to be in the right places. Their hindquarters is one of those places, hence why they show off. As with most mysteries in life, one can often find the solution by asking the gossip queen. At the car wash, that’s Surprise.

We walk in ten minutes later, as a cover of Matchbox Twenty’s Real World is ending. The crowd has thinned out from its peak, as the various sporting events have ended. Sports fans with no interest in karaoke had been the first to leave, while some of the college students have stayed. It’s Saturday night and there are no classes tomorrow – they can sleep off the hangovers.

The college crowd eggs one another on, and most of their selections are songs I’ve never heard before. They’re also songs I never want to hear again, at least not performed by any of them.

A few other diehards have stuck around, and I recognize some of them from earlier in the evening as they get another turn. Journey is always popular at karaoke night, and Any Way You Want It and Who’s Crying Now both get selected. As much as I like Journey, I’ve never picked any of their songs because they’re too clichéd.

Minty’s last song of the evening is another Equestrian song, a Hearth’s Warming carol, even though the holiday is still months away. Sparks’ final selection is also an Equestrian song.

My last turn rolls around, and I break my rule and do a slow song. Half the audience has already left, most of the rest are drunk, and the ponies and I are among the few sober guests left. I’m no Weird Al, but I altered the lyrics to America’s Lonely People. “This is for all the little ponies, sitting at that table over there…”

It’s short and slow and I’m butchering it almost as badly as that other fellow’s earlier performance of Bohemian Rhapsody. I don’t care, because the ponies are smiling. They’re cute when they smile.

Sunny Daze sings her last song of the night in Equestrian. I assume it’s something to do with the sun, based on her previous picks, so I ask and it’s confirmed that the loose translation would be ‘Towards The Sunlight’. It’s a pretty song.

That leaves only one last song from our group, and there’s no doubt it, Razzaroo has saved her best for last. If people thought I was nuts for picking We Didn’t Start The Fire, their jaws are absolutely dropping as the first notes of Take On Me start to play. “Talking away... I don't know what I'm to say, I'll say it anyway…”

Not only is everyone who’s here for karaoke paying attention to her, she’s commanded the attention of everyone in the restaurant, from the waitresses to the guys watching Sportscenter on the television over the bar.

This is a song no one expects to hear, and when it does get picked, it’s usually done poorly. A good rendition demands respect. An awesome cover will bring everything else to a crashing halt. The only thing missing is a comedic record scratch, because everything else has come to a crashing halt.

When she’s done, she bows to a standing ovation. I’m glad I was ahead of her, because I definitely don’t want to follow that performance. I feel bad for the girl who does, as her rendition of …Baby One More Time leaves much to be desired.

We stick around until the end, even though most of the remaining singers are lackluster at best.

The DJ ends the night by inviting everyone up to sing Sweet Caroline. The ponies aren’t familiar with Neil Diamond, but it’s a crowd song and I get to witness their Equestrian magic firsthand. There’s no hesitation, the notes come to them, as the lyrics flash on the screen. It’s hard to believe such a sweet, slow song has become a sporting anthem, yet it’s seen a surge of popularity since the 1990s because of exactly that.

“So good! So good!” Even without being official lyrics, the ponies have somehow sensed they were supposed to echo this line, and they do so unprompted. Equestrian magic can be freaky when one stops to think about it.

The song ends and the restaurant starts shutting down for the evening. There’s no reason to stick around, we’ve all already settled our respective tabs, and we walk out into the cool autumn evening.

“My bad singing aside, I hope you all had fun tonight.”

The mares all nuzzle me, and assure me they’d had fun.

“Also, your vocal lessons start two Saturdays from now. I’ve already scheduled you.” Minty holds up her phone. “We’ll even pick you up! You know, so you can’t ‘accidentally’ forget and sleep in instead.”

“Would I do that?”

“Yes!” they answer in chorus.

My little pony friends may know me a little too well.

Author's Note

Story notes: https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/976003/story-notes-every-breath-you-take