Author's Note

Ida May by Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys

This is probably the one most loosely based on a true story in this story so far, but what’s a biopic without a little embellishment?

CW: Alcoholism and graphic detail

Posey Red

“Now, we welcome the head of this radio show, the Mills show, and the advertising head of Mills and its subsidiaries… your DJ for the evening, Poppy O’Daisy and his band, the Light Crust Doughcolts.”

“I’d like to welcome y’all to WBAP radio. We’ve got a collection of songs lined up for y’all to listen to. Classic Southern, Appleoosa stuff. Now of course, I’m good ol’ Poppy Oh, and I’ve got with me the Light Crust Doughcolts here. Would y’all care to introduce yourselves?”

“I’m Wills Weigh.”

“Hilt Edge.”

“Hay Austere—“

“That’s enough of that. Y’all have day jobs to get back to. Can’t be holdin’ up this station. Anyway, our first song comes from the Colts of the Pegasi. Tumblin’ Tumbleweeds.”

[scattered, pained laughter]

See them tumbling down…

“How long we been supportin’ that Poppy Oh colt?” the pony, a colt himself, attempted to give off an air of elegance. He sat still and gave a smile, though was hampered by his slightly worse teeth.

“Good question, Hilt Edge,” responded another pony, in a cowboy hat. He sat haphazardly, eyeing his empty cup as if he wanted more. His fiddle lay beside his hooves, carefully placed where he couldn’t possibly fidget onto it.

Four ponies, pegasi, sat together in an old-timey saloon. The smell of Appleoosian cider wafted through the air, as a pianist played an old earth pony song on a tinny piano. It might’ve been an old Blues standard, nopony was sure.

The four ponies sitting together were discussing what was going to happen. They’d been under Poppy O’Daisy for quite a while, and felt they could do more than be an advertising vessel for a wheat company. In their time away from the grain mill, they could discuss some options.

“It’s been ‘bout 3 years,” a pony responded, a bit more serious, true to his name of Hay Austere. He left his instrument at home, he didn’t want it to get damaged in any way.

“Ah wager that Poppy Oh colt don’t want anythin’ besides marketing for us,” the fourth and final colt added. Hilt Edge’s brother, he didn’t care about appearing professional. His mane unkempt, and his hooves splayed out as he laid, rather than sat.

“Now, Dagger, that may be true,” the hat-wearing pony added. “But we also ain’t gonna do much with him watchin’ over our backs.”

“Ah get where yer comin’ from, Wills,” Dagger added, “but we’re already a success, the least he can do is recognize that.”

“But he won’t,” Wills countered. “Not long as his business keep goin’, and we’re part of it.”

Dagger rolled his eyes, “We can just change the name. Put on fake mustaches or whatever.”

“As if that’ll work,” Wills added.

“Calm down, gentlestallions,” Hilt added. “Seems like Hay Austere here might have an idea.”

Hay Austere looked slowly around the table at the three ponies sitting around him. “Okay, so here’s my idea. Let’s record some old Folk tune, or whatever, under a different name. If Poppy Oh finds out, we’re gonna have to take it. We’re already popular.”

Wills Weigh sighed. “That’s basically just Dagger’s idea, but guess I’m outvoted.”

“What shall we record?” Hilt Edge asked.

“Just whatever, you know Nanny?” Wills replied.

“I think I do.”

“Let’s go then.”

“Hey, Ah know you folks.” a pony said. He was slated to be producing the Doughcolts as they recorded their first song. “You’re the Light Crust Doughcolts.”

Wills Weigh looked all around, as if trying to figure out if somepony was watching him.

“Uh, no, we’fe the uh… New Apploosian Doughcolts,” he denied.

“Well, Ah was promised the Light Crust Doughcolts, that’s how y’all got here in the first place.” the engineer contested.

“Ah, well, we’re the New Apploosian Doughcolts. Similar name, musta gotten them confused.”

“Ah don’t trust ya one bit. Ah’m gonna have to order y’all to leave.”

Beads of sweat coalesced on Wills Weigh’s brow. He worried that this was going to fall apart the second he started to say anything, thankfully, Hilt Edge stepped up.

“Please, listen to us? Once?”

The engineer rolled his eyes, but he saw they had instruments, so he let out a long sigh and continued.

“Fine, but don’t expect anythin’ to come outta this.”

Wills Weigh nodded, and took a position behind a microphone, holding his fiddle, ready to play.

“Rollin’ Nanny. One and a, two and a…

Wills Weigh started off playing a fiddle riff while Dagger and Austere banged away on their guitars. Austere was playing a simple stop-start percussive riff while Dagger punctuated it with two strums, keeping up with the waltz of the song.

It was a remarkably simple song, Hilt Edge would throw in floating phrases he’d taken from the various Jazz songs he heard, and Wills Weigh would answer with that same fiddle riff.

The band flowed with the music, they were all focused and incredibly cohesive as a unit. After all, Poppy Oh didn’t settle for anything less than perfect.

After the song concluded, without much fanfare, the engineer looked at the group cautiously.

“It’s a good song ‘an all… but it’s longer than 3 minutes.”

Wills Weigh flew over to the machine carving the disc and found that there was in fact quite a bit of recording time on it. He returned to his position near the center of the room to consult the group.

“What do we do ‘bout this?”

“Well, why not release it?” Hilt Edge answered. “After all, if it doesn’t become a hit, the better chance we got of keepin’ our feathers.”

Wills Weigh nodded, and looked towards the engineer.

“Get it pressed,” he said.

The engineer was surprised, but he complied.

“Y’ALL DID WHAT?!”

Poppy O’Daisy screeched into the ears of the Light Crust Doughcolts. Nanny sold a few copies, and he found out awfully quick. Now, he’d confronted them directly on Appleoosian streets.

Wills Weigh panicked just a little inside. Any chance they had at independent stardom was now shot down. How were you supposed to respond to Appleoosian elite? A unicorn in his prime, complete with a short temper and greedy demeanor? As a pegasus, you didn’t question these things.

Wills Weigh was understandably, very worried when Dagger did anyways.

“Yeah, we recorded somethin’. We did it without your approval. What’re ya gonna do?” Dagger challenged. “We’re obviously too much of an asset to lose.”

Poppy Oh was practically furious at the challenge. “AH CERTAINLY CAN! Ah’ll just get two more Light Crust Doughcolts, nopony will notice. Pegasi constantly have their head in the clouds anyways. Ah’ll introduce them. Business as usual, except Ah won’t have an ungrateful little guitarist under me.”

Dagger glared daggers at Poppy Oh, the tension was so thick you could cut it with one as well. “Ah’m pretty sure their listenin’ for us.”

“They’re listenin’ to Wills and Hilt, yain’t doin’ anythin’ they notice. Those two are the singers,” Poppy Oh sneered.

“Who’s to say Ah won't drag Hilt along.” Dagger contested.

“Ah do! Yer fired, and if you bring any pony from this group with ya, I’ll ruin yer reputation. Ah’ve got dirt on everypony here.” Poppy Oh declared.

Hilt stepped forward. “I’m leavin’, too. I can’t be under a pony who treats his performers like they’re expendable.”

Poppy O’Daisy’s eyes burned with the fire of a thousand suns, or maybe that was just Wills Weigh imagining things. Poppy Oh was almost so mad he lost all semblance of anger in his voice, uttering in a cold monotone,”See how well that works out fer ya. Just remember that Ah told you so.”

Dagger and his brother left the scene, walking off to some unknown place.

Meanwhile, Wills Weigh was absolutely terrified. Hay Austere probably was, too, but he didn’t show it.

“Wills, ya better. Not. Leave.”

Wills Weigh nodded his head viciously. “Yes Mr. Poppy Oh.”

“And you too Hay.”

Hay Austere merely nodded.

Poppy Oh straightened himself out and retruned to his jolly persona.

“Now let’s get down ta business, shall we?”

Hilt Edge looked at the pegasi around him. It was the same saloon where he’d talked business with the Doughcolts, the sound of Ragtime filled the air and ponies chattered all around the bar. Busy drinking their drinks which were, probably spiked a little too much. The new pony, a professional sort with a goatee, looked across at the two brothers whispering amongst themselves.

“This colt’s in, right?” Hilt whispered.

“He’s absolutely in,” Dagger whispered back.

The two brothers sat up and looked calmly over the table.

“Alright, so, Mr. Well Done. We’ve considered your performance,” Hilt began.

“And we’ve determined that you’re pretty much in.” Dagger finished. “For the record, we’re playin’ Country Swing here. Ah hope ya know what that entails.”

“Is it anything like Good Mare?” Well Done replied, in an unusually Canterlotian accent. “I’m a big fan of hers.”

Hilt waved his wings in an indecisive motion. “A little more Country then Swing.”

Well Done looked up at the ceiling. “I think I can pull it off.”

“Good, then you’re in.”

Hilt Edge sighed as he looked at the sheet he laid on the table regarding all the instruments he wanted to fill. Piano, steel guitar, double bass, fiddle, and voice and guitar, but those were accounted for. He flew over the the main bar, a nice mahogany construction. Taking a pencil usually reserved for editing the errors in the Ragtime sheet music, this one set to ‘Guitar Rag’, he crossed out steel guitar and surveyed the rest of the list.

“One down, three to go,” he mumbled.

Hilt flew back to the table, where Dagger was drinking some unholy cocktail.

“Hilt, how’s it lookin’?” he asked.

Instead of responding to Dagger directly, he looked at Well Done. “We’ll be recordin’ music eventually. In the meantime, do ya happen to know of any instrumentalists…” Hilt pushed the paper towards Well Done, “that happen to fit these criteria?”

Well Done surveyed the paper. “I think I could name a few.”

Hilt’s eyes widened, and he flew down, picking up his cocktail and coaxing a toast out of Dagger.

“Can’t believe we’re gettin’ a band!” Hilt enthused.

Dagger laughed a little, as well, “Wanna order somethin’?”

“Ah heard the brownies are pretty good. At least, they’re popular among the musicians who work here. They claim the increase their musical capabilities,” Hilt responded.

“Wait,” Well Done replied. “Is this some kind of Appleoosian thing, do you have musical brownies?”

Hilt once again looked around at the situated ponies, and he got an idea. “They do now! Hey, colts, how’d ya like to be called the Musical Brownies?”

The three ponies laughed. Not one of them was in disagreement.

He remembered.

He saw.

Wills Weigh slammed down a bottle of hard cider, even tougher than the usual stuff. Then, he slammed the bottle onto the table.

That sight…

Wills Weigh shuddered.

He was just walking along when he came across him. A lime green pegasus, one he inherently recognized. He was found dead, in the middle of the street. Maybe he fell off a house, flew to close to the sun, but ponies didn’t just fall off buildings like that.

Not with both wings broken, covered in bruises, scratches, cuts, fractures. Multiple other issues Wills Weigh didn’t notice… because he looked away before that. He didn’t report the body, he already was shaken enough just seeing his old friend as broken as that.

He tried drinking more of his cider, but he realized he’d drank it all already.

Wills Weigh knew that The Musical Brownies were doing well, and he remembered what Poppy Oh had said, about having dirt on everypony in town. He didn’t want Hilt and Dagger to take off and form their own band.

But… just how far would he go?

The last time he saw Poppy Oh, catching up with the local Appleoosian hits, he seemed awfully mad. Wills knew how bad he could get.

But was it that bad?

Did Wills Weigh want to risk it?

Would he end up as broken and bloodied as Hilt Edge was found?

Maybe he should record with Poppy Oh just a little bit longer. He’d need another cider to deal with it. How close was he?

Wills Weigh raided the pantry, the place where he stored all the drinks, ones he could afford with his increased pay. Opening the lid to that one, he drank a little.

“Celestia help me,” he muttered to himself.

Poppy O’Daisy lounged lazily. The radio show was starting soon, hopefully another thing he could use to race for the Appleoosian mayoral title. Wills Weigh’s eyes darted around the room, taking it all in.

It was a recording room, that was simple, though rudimentally constructed. It was really no better than a shack, and it was tough fitting four ponies in there. Records sat on a shelf beside the recording equipment.

Hay Austere remained in the Light Crust Doughcolts, and Wills Weigh did, thanks to a raise. In the meantime, Wills Weigh had been made the leader, and it didn’t take much convincing. All he had to do was see Hilt Edge…

He didn’t want to think about it.

He just had to convince Poppy Oh that he wanted to do whatever Poppy Oh asked with unwavering dedication. Then, he hired another guitarist, and another singer, Audio Screech and Dark Dancer respectively.

“‘Bout time colts,” Poppy Oh said. “Time ta run the commercial.”

Throughout the tiny little shack, the words that had wormed into Wills Weigh’s mind repeated their cheery and condescending cadence. He hated those words, but who knew what would happen when he left.

“Now, we welcome the head of this radio show, the Mills show, and the advertising head of Mills and its subsidiaries… your DJ for the evening, Poppy O’Daisy and his band, the Light Crust Doughcolts.”

A theme song played, and Poppy Oh started speaking.

“I got with me here everypony’s favorite. Say hello, Wills.”

“H-hello,” Wills stammered.

“Come on, you can say it louder than that!”

“Yes sir!” Wills Weigh shouted. “Hello everypony listenin’ in! We’re the— Light Crust Doughcolts, live in studio. Now, if you’d please introduce yourselves?”

“Hay Austere,” Hay Austere said.

“Dark Dancer,” a chocolate pegasus said. The ponies at home didn’t see it, but he knew he was going to do well. Every about him had a smug aura about it.

“Audio Screech,” said a pegasus with a messy haircut. Also smug, but not to the same degree.

“Wow, ya really gave them a full round huh?” Poppy Oh cajoled.

“Did… I do somethin’ wrong?” Wills Weigh asked.

“Ah’ll let ya know during this next song. It’s an old one, from way down South. Ain’t Nobody’s Fault but Mine.”

Poppy Oh grabbed the record in question and started playing it, then turned directly to Wills Weigh.

“What’s gotta into ya?” Poppy Oh scolded.

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry…” Wills Weigh replied, hiding his face between his wings.

“Sure as hell ya are! What’s this? Stammerin’? Friendliness?” Poppy Oh chided. “Ya used ta be the best. Ah didn’t make you a leader for no reason! Ya think I want to pay ya more than the minimum!?

“Ah swear, Ah thought you were different. Ya seemed ready to go no matter the circumstance. Now your friend dies and you’re a blubbering mess! Pull yourself together!” Poppy Oh yelled, leaving Wills Weigh in a collapsed heap on the floor.

Peaking up between the wings covering his head, Wills Weigh nodded.

“I’ll… try ta pull myself together,” he muttered.

“Ah don’t want ya ta try, I want ya to do,” Poppy Oh emphasized.

“U-uderstood.”

Poppy Oh turned back over to the microphone, where the record had long since stopped playing. He looked around in a panic. Wills Weigh slowly got back onto his hooves, and realized what that meant. The ponies in range could’ve easily heard that with no loud records to drown it out. Poppy Oh looked back at Wills Weigh and scowled.

“For our next song, Ah’ve got a copy of… In the Jailhouse Now. That’ll be the next song on deck.”

That record started playing, and Poppy Oh looked back at Wills Weigh, “We’re talkin’ ya hear?”

Wills Weigh swallowed and nodded. What he didn’t notice was the pegasi around him, trying to offer a comforting hoof.

“Wills Weigh, Ah got some serious business with you.”

“Wha?” Wills Weigh looked up from his drink, only to find the last pony he wanted to see.

“Ah said, let’s have a talk.” Poppy Oh declared, sitting right next to Wills Weigh and stealing the drink from him. Wills Weigh reached down, hoof groping the pristine table, before he belatedly realized that there wasn’t going to be any drinks.

“Wha d’ya wanna say?” Wills Weigh slurred.

"Ah wanted ta say that you, Wills Weigh are a lousy excuse fer not only a DJ, but a leader. Ah'm not payin' ya to stammer and drink!"

Wills Weigh looked at Poppy Oh as he said this. After Poppy Oh concluded, Wills Weigh laughed. "Haha, Ah'm glad ya think so highly a' me."

Poppy Oh grumbled, "Ah swear, if you don't get yer act straight, yer gonna end up like Hilt Edge."

Wills Weigh stared off into the distance, then the words registered, and he was reduced to hysterics.

“N-no, not— Hilt’s Edge!” Wills Weigh whinnied, “Ah-Ah don’t wanna end up dead!”

Poppy Oh slapped Wills Weigh across the face. “Ah didn’t meant it like that, ya dumb pegasus.”

Wills Weigh couldn’t help but still be panicked. Did he not, or did he really? What was another way he could’ve meant it? Of course, these thoughts went through his drunken head with no rhyme or reason to them. He grew so panicked he began crying.

“Ah want my drink back—“ Wills Weigh complained. He needed something to forget this entire situation all over again.

“Ah’ll give ya it back when ya listen!” Poppy Oh shouted. “Ah’m just gonna get to the point, ya got the radio station put on hiatus, and thus Ah’m not gonna win the mayoral race. Ah’ve been Appleoosa’s mayor for many years, and ya just had to ruin it all. Ah knew making a pegasus band would‘ve bitten me in the flank sooner or later. “

Wills Weigh, face ugly with tears from the beration, looked up at Poppy Oh, attempting to look past him into the world beyond, or rather outside.

“Ah see yer eyein’ that door. Well, don’t let it hit ya, because yer fired Wills! Ah won’t tolerate a pony who ruins my campaign!” Poppy Oh declared.

He threw down the bottle with a burst of magic and stormed out of the building, leaving a very broken Wills Weigh. He cried and cried, but couldn’t find a release.

“So you’ve all been hired for the new group,” Wills Weigh stated. He drank down another sip of his hard cider and looked at the four ponies around him. Half of them were from the Light Crust Doughcolts, the other half were new hires. Wills Weigh was surprised when Audio Screech decided to join him, despite his less-than stellar showings.

Their place of meeting wasn’t very high-quality, but Wills Weigh at least had enough amenities to prevent a mutiny.

“And why didn’t we meet at the saloon again?” Audio Screech asked.

Wills Weigh suddenly perked up and looked all around him. “I don’t want to deal with Poppy Oh!”

“We usually didn’t at the saloon,” Audio Screech added.

“Well, I don’t want any place at all where he could possibly be.” Wills Weigh countered.

“Ya afraid he’s gonna kill you?” Audio Screech snarked.

“Yes! Yes I am!” Wills Weigh shouted.

Audio Screech and a new hire, Blue Whale, looked at him.

“I have no idea where that came from…” Audio Screech added.

Wills Weigh hyperventilated for a few seconds before turning to the two ponies. “Ya haven’t seem what I have.”

Audio Screech and Blue Whale looked equally put off by Wills Weigh’s apparent paranoia. They stood up.

“Hold it there…” Dark Dancer said. The two ponies sat back down. “He’s a great musician, isn’t he? Besides, let’s get to the matter at hand. What’s the group called?”

Audio Screen chuckled. “The Wingboners,” he responded.

“I’m not callin’ my group ‘The Wingboners’,” Wills Weigh emphasized. “I don’t want people pickin’ up my records and thinkin’ we’e some kinda hokum group.”

“Well,” Whale Song pitched in, her perfectly melodious voice splitting the air. “We could always keep it simple. Most of you were in the New Apploosian Doughtcolts, weren’t you?”

Every pony around the room nodded.

“Let’s call ourselves the New Apploosian Gentlemares!”

The three stallions in the room looked at her as if she said something ridiculous.

“We’re callin’ ourselves the Gentlestallions,” Wills Weigh alluded, waving her off.

“No! No! How about the Gentleponies then? The New Apploosian Gentleponies?” Whale Song attempted.

“Fine,” said Wills Weigh. “That’ll work.”

The four ponies prepared to get ready to start recording.

Wills Weigh sat besides his fiddle, a drink of cider sitting atop a nearby coffee table— no doubt also containing a music magazine atop it.

Audio Screech had said that he had a new composition on his hands that morning, so in the downtime, after letting more than a few companies know that they were the Light Crust Doughcolts, or at least majority so, they had finally gotten signed. The engineer wanted results stat, though, so Audio Screech had come in with his steel guitar claiming he had something new to play.

After laying it down on the floor and attaching clamps to one of his wings, Audio Screech tuned it up and started playing. He slid his hands across the thing. Then, Wills said, “Kick it off Audio.”

Audio obliged, and started playing a tune that implied an almost Ragtime feel, likely thanks to all the time he’d spend in the saloons. In fact the song was eerily similar to those played on those old out-of-tune pianos.

Wills Weigh couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something innately familiar to it.

Regardless of any familiarity, the beat was incredibly infectious, before he knew it, Wills Weigh, and indeed, the entire group was stomping along as Audio Screech slid his clasped wing up and down the strings. The sound was rather dead— no means of getting amplification when your populous is majority pegasus— at least, not yet.

However, Audio Screech put his wings to some good use, bouncing with the stomping in the room. After the steel guitar went on, Wills Weigh offhoofedly said. “Mind if I try?”

Audio Screech lifted his wings off the steel guitar and pointed his clasped wing at Wills Weigh. He picked up his fiddle and started playing a simple Country solo. Nothing too complex, but something that fit just right.

After the fiddle solo went on for a bit, Audio Screech slid his wings across the guitar and cut the record.

“I’m certain that’s a hit,” Dark Dancer said.

Wills Weigh nodded. “What’re we callin’ that one?”

Audio Screech didn’t expect that question. His eyes darted around the room, then he came up with an idea.

“Let’s call it Steel Guitar Rag,” Audio mentioned.

Wills Weigh raised an eyebrow, “Ain’t that one of the Ragtime things they play at the saloon?”

Audio shook his head vigorously, he didn’t want the group to know that that arrangement was almost verbatim what the Ragtime ponies played. He didn’t know who played it, nor did he really care. Credit was overrated.

“Not that I can recall,” Audio Screech said. “Besides, nopony’s gonna care! What, it’s an Earth Pony song, ain’t it?”

“But I thought ya said it wasn’t an Earth Pony song.”

“I’m sayin’ that if it is, who’s gonna care?”

Wills Weigh sighed. “Fine.”

The engineer conceded. “Earth Ponies ain’t exactly popular ‘round these parts. Ah say release it.”

“They used to be the majority population,” Wills Weigh mumbled.

“Used to. They certainly aren’t now,” Dark Dancer said. “Besides, didn’t you used to—“

“Shut up!” Wills Weigh screamed. He dashed over to his cider and drank a few sips. “Fine, yes I played a ‘Mudblood’ in those old performance shows. But I don’t no more, so…”

Wills Weigh trailed off, and everypony looked at him. They all knew this, of course, he wasn’t exactly an obscure performer. However, they wanted to see what he had to say next.

Wills Weigh drank he rest of his cider. He wasn’t going to convince anypony’s minds.

“Fine.”

The engineer quickly ran off to make a copy of the newly christened ’Steel Guitar Rag’. Wills Weigh sat to the side and slowly drank his cider, trying to figure out how to proceed with what the group was likely to do.

Whatever the group did, it turned out to be a massive hit. Soon, all the Appleoosian stations were playing Steel Guitar Rag, and interest started being put onto Wills Weigh and his Gentleponies. Enough interest that they were asked to record another song, even though he very well knew Steel Guitar Rag was stolen, could he really complain when it was that big a hit?

Wills Weigh arrived at the studio drinking his second glass of cider for the day. His steps were getting a little wobbly, but he could still think clearly, at least he assumed. He’d remembered to bring his fiddle, so how out of it could he be?

Naturally, everypony was there before him, Dark Dancer, Whale Song, and Audio Screech. They were talking among themselves as Wills Weigh unceremoniously threw open the door, with a little tilt in his step.

“Howdy, gentlestallions and mare,” Wills Weigh intoned.

The three other ponies looked at him, a little off-put by his seemingly unsteady appearance.

“We were jus’ discussin’ our next song to record,” Audio Screech mentioned.

“What’s it lookin’ like?” Wills Weigh asked.

“Well, I remember ya did that whole Nanny thing with… Hilt Edge, the leader of The Musical Brownies? Right?” Audio Screech asked, attempting to clarify.

Wills Weigh put his glass of cider down and walked close up to Audio Screech’s face. “Ah don’t want Hilt Edge mentioned. Plain an’ simple.”

Audio Screech rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. But regardless, ya recorded that old folk tune and recorded somethin’, right?”

Wills Weigh nodded. “We did do that.”

“Why not do the same? If y’all know Posey Red, we could give that one a swing,” Audio Screech concluded.

“Ah hope this one’s not stolen,” Wills Weigh emphasized.

“No, no. Just an’ ol’ folk tune,” Audio Screech clarified.

Wills Weigh walked up to the microphone sitting in the center of the room, and started adjusting it. However, Dark Dancer pulled the mic away from Wills Weigh.

“You’re too drunk to be doin’ this. Stick to the fiddle,” he stated, pushing Wills Weigh away. Wills Weigh stumbled backwards, and lifted up his fiddle.

“Fine.”

Dark Dancer took a guitar lying around while Audio Screech and Whale Song endeavored to set their instruments up. Strumming the guitar, and realizing it made no noise, Dark Dancer grumbled.

“Bucking unicorns, stealing all the magic for themselves.”

It was at that moment when the engineer walked out with a big black box that almost looked like a speaker on a radio.

“Turns out the Earth Ponies found some way to concentrate the magic for brief use. Figured y’all could use it.”

Dark Dancer laughed. “Looks like Earth Ponies got some legs to stand on.”

Setting the black box down and taking the cord and plugging it into the spare guitar, Dark Dancer was able to amplify his sound. It still didn’t add much to the guitar’s tone, but it could be used.

“Didn’t know you could play, Dancer,” Audio Screech observed.

“I’ve been practicing, probably the best at my instrument in this room, honestly.”

Wills Weigh rolled his eyes. “Ah’ve been playin’ fiddle for years. Anyways, everypony back to their positions, let’s kick this thing off.”

Wills Weigh started clicking his hoof ferociously on the ground, trying to keep a slightly swung but still upbeat pace. He immediately kicked the song off with him sawing his fiddle, immediately kicking off with a fiddle solo. However, the solo only lasted a brief moment before Wills Weigh rested his fiddle and listened to Dark Dancer sing while playing a jazzy chord pattern on his guitar.

“Light from the parlor, fire in the grate.
The waiter right there says it’s gettin’ late.
Curtains in the window, drawn- snowy white,
parlor’s pleasant on a Saturday night.”

The first verse was delivered at a rapid fire place while Wills Weigh kept up his stomping. The lyrics for each verse differed each time they heard this song performed, but one thing that didn’t change was the chorus, and gang vocal tagging in what was assumed to be the favorite mare at this parlor.

“Posey Red! Posey Red! I’m plum fool ‘bout Posey Red!”

Without the urging of anypony, Dark Dancer launched right into a guitar solo. Wills Weigh sighed, but he kept his rhythm going. Dark Dancer ran up and down the strings of his guitar, plucking away with his wing. He ran through a couple scales as Wills Weigh intensified his stomping to watch what Dark Dancer was doing more intently.

However, the solo only lasted for as long as it need to get its point across, and so Dark Dncer stepped back up to the microphone, and the second verse began.

“Candle on the table, picture on the wall,
some mare’s on the sofa but that’s not all.
If I’m not mistaken, and I’m sure I’m right,
somepony else is here tonight.”

Once again, the gang vocal chorus occured.

“Posey Red! Posey Red! I’m plum fool ‘bout Posey Red!”

Apparently realizing that Dark Dancer had done the same thing earlier, Audio Screech launched into a steel guitar solo. The solo consisted of several slides and that Ragtime feel that was so prevalent on Steel Guitar Rag. However, this time, Audio used his left wing for a lot more, plucking at the strings rapidly to keep up with the frenzied pace of the song. Once again, the solo was short, so the next verse came in quickly.

“Chicken’s in the bread pan, pickin’ out dough,
Granny does your dog bite, ‘No child no’.
Hurry up colts, don’t fool around,
Come to the parlor and get yourself down!”

“Posey Red! Posey Red! I’m plum fool ‘bout Posey Red!”

Once again, Dark Dancer launched into an impromptu solo. It wasn’t too dissimilar from his first one, but he was plucking a lot more. In fact, several double stops appeared in this solo, which Wills Weigh reacted positively to. ‘Go at it Dancer,’ was soon to be immortalized in wax.

The solo ended with simple chord changes playing over Wills Weigh’s stomping, which wavered out into the distance.

“Candle’s burin’, the fire’s real low
Somepony says, ‘you gotta go’.
But then she whispers, gentle and light
‘Don’t forget to come next Saturday night’.”

“Posey Red! Posey Red! I’m plum fool ‘bout’ Posey Red!”

Wills Weigh finally realized for himself that these ponies weren’t being asked to take solos, so he pocked up his fiddle again and played one for himself. Sawing on the fiddle like he did at the beginning of the recording, he recorded a frantic fiddle solo, just as short as the other solos.

“Woo!” He said, lurching forward, as the stomping devolved into a light applause. The recording ended there, with the engineer coming out and declaring, “Ah think you’ve found yourself a hit!”

“We already did have one,” Wills Weigh said.

“But Ah think this’ll be even bigger than Steel Guitar Rag. After all, this doesn’t resemble earth pony music at all!”

Wills Weigh winced. “Now, Ah wouldn’t say that… the song’s got a bounce, influenced by Jazz as much as the other songs Ah’ve heard this year. Ah’d call it a bit more of a… Southern Swing.”

The engineer waved him off. “Whatever, Ah’m gettin’ this stamped. Ah hope it’ll be as good as it should be.”

Wills Weigh turned to the rest of his group. “What else should we do?” he asked.

To the surprise of nopony, Posey Red was a massive hit. But that was years ago. Wills Weigh stumbled into his house drinking his 3rd cider that day. Sure he’d drank them all in an hour, but he felt fine.

After Posey Red became a smash, Wills Weigh say and waited for his time to come. The longer he waited, the worse it got. Every day, the visceral scene flashed through his head, and every day, he had to drink it away. He dreaded the day his time came.

Wills Weigh didn’t even know if Poppy O’Daisy was still alive, but he didn’t want to risk it. He drank down his cider and tried to push the memory aside. In a frenzied rush to get his head clear, he stumbled over to the radio he had in his house, the one in his bedroom. He flicked it on with a wing.

Commercial, figures.

Suddenly Wills Weigh remembered something, the Gentleponies had a concert today! He pulled himself off the ground and dug through to try and find something to make himself presentable. Then, he looked at the clock… it was already half past starting time. It was no use.

He dragged himself back into his room. The radio was blaring out some song. Adding his now-empty bottle to the ever-growing pile of empty glass bottles, he pushed his muzzle down into his pillow.

A throbbing headache threatened to destroy him from the inside-out, but Wills Weigh persevered. He listened intently to the radio to try and get the pain expunged, but then he heard a familiar song.

“Dahlia! Dahlia! I’m plum fool ‘bout Daliah!”

…How long had it been since he heard that?