Midnight

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?" Midnight's demeanor instantly downturn as I swing the Trailduster around in the parking lot.

"No – why would I?"

"Really? You're really gonna ask me why?" she laments. Not waiting for an answer, Midnight proceeds to tap the glass on her side of the truck, directing my attention to the sign hanging out front of the single-story establishment.

'Buckboard Bar and Grille.'

More of a bar than grille, but they have good food; furthermore, there aren't a lot of food options out in the middle of virtually nowhere. But it's not lost on me that we've been here before, and I thought there might be a bit of hesitation when Midnight saw where we were dining tonight...

After all, the last time we were here, Midnight inadvertently got very, very drunk. The result of that was... interesting. I still have the video of her singing karaoke that night – tucked away so Middie can't delete it if she wanted to.

But I hadn't anticipated Midnight to come off legitimately irritated returning to this spot; after all, it's been months since our one and only visit here. "Middie, do you really think anyone that's in there tonight is going to remember a night from months ago, if they were even present?" I propose for consideration.

Despite my efforts to use logic here, Midnight narrows her eyes at me. "It may have been months – but that's not long enough," she grumbles.

"Okay... how long should we stay away from this place? Just a ballpark answer is all I want."

"At the very least, a decade. Maybe two, just to be safe. I guarantee if anyone here tonight was there that awful night... well, how could they have forgotten?"

"You do have a point there," I say, crossing my arms. "It was a damn fine performance, if I do say so myself."

Those narrowed eyes and hardened face turn into a proper incensed glare upon hearing my attempted joke. That may have not been the correct tactic to use at this point...

"I guess that wasn't what you meant. My bad," I apologize.

"You know, I could really go for some liver tonight," Midnight comments in an ominous voice. She moves toward me, lowering her head toward my torso. "How's yours?"

"Sorry, I like that organ," I reply, unfolding my arms to block my abdomen now. "You can't have that. I think I need it, anyway."

At least I get a snort out of Midnight, who retreats back to her side of the truck now. But it doesn't resolve the current predicament we find ourselves in as we sit in the parking lot.

"Well, if not here, where do you want to eat? The drive in?" I offer as a settlement.

Midnight's face twists into a thinly-veiled cringe. "We just were there last week," she protests. "I kinda feel like that's become the same old, same old."

"Alright... there's the choke and puke staples. McDonald's? Burger King?"

This time, Midnight responds with a fervent shake of the head, not needing to add anything verbal.

"Well, neither you nor I wanted to make anything tonight, which is why we're here. We can reconsider what home has to offer or eat here," I explain, setting out my final ultimatum. "I'm not driving an hour out of my way for food tonight, Mid."

Looking like a toddler with choices not to her liking, Midnight hangs her head and pouts. Whether that pout is accompanied by internal thoughts on an impending decision is hard to say. If it comes down to it, I guess I'll make the decision to go home and cook something quick; it doesn't thrill me to have driven this way just to make a loop back for no reason, but I'm certainly not going to force her to go in.

"Look, I know it's a bit late for that, but I'm sorry I didn't ask if you were okay with coming here. I figured it had been long enough, and considering the indirect results of that night..." I trail off, pointing repeatedly to myself and her. "I guess I didn't think this would be an issue. Shouldn't have assumed."

"It was still an embarrassing evening, John," she whines, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"I know... but time heals all wounds, right?"

A distinct lack of amusement accompanies Midnight's face as she looks at me again following my feeble argument.

I don't think I'm winning this battle. Having left the truck running in a parking spot this whole time makes heading home a simple affair, and I decide to throw in the towel. Reaching up to grab the shifter and throw the Trailduster in reverse, I'm startled by the engine suddenly dying, watching as all the gauges in the dash fall to zero even as I blip the gas pedal in hopes of saving it.

"Relax, I did that," Midnight speaks up, sliding the keys from the ignition and levitating them in front of my face. Only briefly – for they suddenly get snatched away and dart toward the passenger seat. "I yield, but if anyone says anything about that night or remembers me, we are out of there. Got that?"

"Uh... what if we're legitimately in the middle of our meal and—"

"We pack it in and jet. It's the risk you take on this," Midnight interrupts.

Well... I really don't think anyone's gonna speak up even if they do recognize her. The choice here is a no brainer; I nod my head, and Midnight hands me my keys before popping open her door and hopping out with little fanfare. When I join her in front of the truck, she retains a steely, serious face that puts me back on edge. "No stupid comments in there, either," she warns me.

"Outside of the normal realm of stupidity, you mean?"

"There's strike one." Despite the response, there's enough sass evident in Midnight's voice to let me know she's not quite that bitter and vindictive.

There may be hope yet to make this a good night and a place we can frequent. As we enter the building, I have my fingers crossed for both.

"Been a while since we were here, but damn – the food is still awesome."

"Mhmm. But you're still kind of an asshole for bringing me back here without warning."

Well, I suppose that's a couple of steps above complete asshole, right? It's a musing I know is better off left unsaid – there's no way it will lead to a positive interaction between me and Midnight.

I get her reasoning for being perhaps a little disappointed in me, but this mood has dragged on through the evening and the meal. Midnight has been the only one to make mention of 'the last time' while we've been in here. But that hasn't stopped her from being unnaturally quiet tonight; her eyes have been busy darting around the interior, trying to catch someone, anyone, staring at her.

Other than the looks we got walking through the restaurant to our table, that is. That's a normal occurrence, and Midnight no longer sweats that sort of attention anywhere we go. No, she is still convinced that there are people here that remember her and secretly... remembering, I guess. I'm not sure.

I may have not helped matters when the waitress brought drinks out. Offering to sample Midnight's water for her might not have been the best idea. But it was a serious and honest gesture... for the most part. Regardless, I'm a bit disappointed with the night – I had really hoped and even expected Midnight would relax and let go of past events. Events that eventually led to where we are now.

Maybe that's what bothers me the most – this place is sort of special for actually bringing me and her together, even if it was by accident. Sure, we probably would have figured each other out at a later time – I doubt our relationship hinged on this evening of chance. But that being said, I wish Midnight could see it in the same light that I do.

Somehow, I need to figure out a way to get the non-existent spotlight off of her ‐ even if it is to my detriment. I don't care about how I look; I'm already a guy in a relationship with a pony. I don't think there's much left of a public reputation to tank for folks that can't look beyond that – but I'm good with it.

So, as I continue to pick at what's left of my food, my eyes begin to wander. Scanning across the thin dining area on this weekday night, then off toward the more popular bar...

From there, memory drives my vision toward a small television screen set up in the corner on a small stage – complete with microphone.

Of course – what better way to wipe away a memory of 'bad' karaoke? Witness a legitimately bad karaoke performance. I can easily do that. Without uttering a word to Midnight, I slip out of our booth and head toward the bar.

The bartender tonight is a younger guy, probably about my age. While in the process of shaking up a customer's drink in a stainless tumbler, he spies me making my way in his direction; he's all ears once I get there, sensing I have something to ask.

"Hey, you got any plans to run karaoke tonight?" I ask, thumbing in the direction of the setup.

The bartender eyes grow a bit wide at the question, but that fades as he shrugs off the initial moment of surprise and sets down the mixer in his hands. "I suppose it's always open, if you wanna try it. Not often I get asked that from someone sober."

"I might be better drunk, but I'll just have to settle for relying on my stupidity," I wisecrack.

The man slips out from behind the bar and leads me over to the karaoke setup. Along the way, I shoot a glance back over to my table, where Midnight remains seated. Her eyes are glued to me as I make my way around the dining room; the faint blue glow from them is able to be seen even from this distance as she tries to discern exactly what I'm up to now.

"Uh... you know what song you want?" the bartender asks, drawing my focus back to the task at hand.

I have to shake my head. "I need to get a look at what's on offer," I reply as he starts flipping through songs on the television screen via remote.

With my answer, he hands off the remote to me. "Alright then – go ahead and scroll through with these, and whenever you find what you want, just hit enter, then play," the bartender explains, pointing out the buttons on the remote for me. "I gotta get back to the bar. By the way, this thing shuts off by itself after a few minutes of inactivity, so you don't have to worry about fussing with anything else when you're done."

"Alright, thanks," I answer, just before the bartender heads back to his work. For the next few moments, I'm busy picking through the wealth of options on order for songs. I really have no idea what I want; actually, I really don't want to do this at all, but it's for a good cause. I'd just like it to be something that... fits.

Unfortunately, there's a lot of stuff that I don't even know or recognize...

"What the fuck are you doing?" Midnight's hushed voice rings out behind me. As I turn to look at her, the terse face she greets me with matches the tone of her voice.

"Nothing. Just sit back down, I won't be too long," I assure her, refusing to explain myself.

"I am not singing again."

"Never said you were," I idly reply while I return to the TV screen.

Oh. I kinda remember this... and the lyrics sorta fit the moment – kind of. At least, from what I can recall...

Screw it. We're going with this one – I'm not going to sit here and scroll for the 'perfect' song that may or may not exist. I turn back to Midnight and put on a big smile for her. "Go back to your seat and just enjoy the show, Middie," I croon.

"John, I swear—" Before she can finish, I hit play on the remote, starting up the music and sending Middie scurrying back to our booth.

I snap up the microphone from its stand as I spin around to face the room. A few folks have directed their attention toward me with the start of the music, and I offer up a wave. "Good evening everyone, my name is John," I announce. "Pleased to be your entertainment for the night as I make an ass of myself."

I get a few chuckles and murmurs from people, but I swear above all that, I can hear Midnight groan. Back at our booth, she's slumped down in the seat, using her hooves and wings to shield herself from second-hand embarrassment.

Can't worry about that now – it's showtime.

"We had a life, we had a love..." As I start off, I'm already feeling unsure of this choice. I apparently don't remember near as much of this song as I thought I did, and it's not fitting the vibe I wanted...

"How many times can I say I'm sooorry?" Well, that line at least carries some meaning. And thankfully, they have the backup singers to aid in carrying out the song properly. I shuffle up to the edge of the stage and hone my focus solely on Midnight. "Yes, I'm sooorry!"

As the song continues on, I note Midnight is ever so slowly creeping out of her cocoon. Little by little, I can first spot her eyes, then a bit of her face. Hard to tell from this distance, but I can imagine she's still probably cringing a bit at this whole charade.

That's alright, I'm cringing at my own efforts to sing right now. If there were music producers scouting for talent in attendance tonight, I guarantee they won't ever be coming back here with the show I'm putting on. As the music swells towards the chorus, this is the part of the song I do remember, and I guess the reason I actually went with it.

"Well you know, you can run, and you can hide. But I'm not leaving 'less you come with me!"

As I launch into it, a little bit more of Midnight's shield falls away - but she still keeps her head low to the table.

"We've had our problems, but I'm on your side! You're all I need, please believe in meee!"

I really don't know what to do while I'm up here, aside from singing. I start slowly pacing the stage as I continue the song, having to focus on the screen for lyrics. I start to wonder if I should have given Midnight my phone to record me – just to make this an even score between us, too. But I'm not drunk dancing...

As the chorus comes up again, my eyes dart back toward out table – and surprisingly, Midnight is nowhere to be found. Frantically scanning the room for her while I sing, I feel stupid when I draw my gaze closer... and find her standing about a foot from the stage.

"You're a dumbass," she says, just loud enough for me to hear. Despite her insult, Middie is fighting hard to keep a grin from taking over her face.

"You're all I need, let me show you..." It's part of the lyrics, but I make sure to lock eyes with Mid as I sing the line. She quickly drops her gaze to the floor, awkwardly kicking at the carpeting.

But I keep my attention on her, only straying away for the next set of lyrics as they come.

"They say you can't take it with you when you go – and III believe it!"

Midnight shakes her head in defeat. When she looks up, she's smiling back at me, unfiltered.

"But taking what I got, or being here with you – you know I—I'd rather leave it!"

Feel like I've scored a little victory now, I myself give up and try doing a little shuffle with the beat, waiting for the next bit to kick in. It gets Midnight to laugh, and thankfully, no one in the crowd is hucking AAA batteries at me for this yet.

Perhaps most surprising, as I finish off the song, Midnight mouths the lyrics along with me. However, she's sure to position herself to where I'm the only one that can view this sight – but that's fine. She wasn't supposed to be singing this.

"You're all I need – please believe in meee..."

As the music dies off and I set the microphone back in its place, a few claps come in from the folks still in attendance. Granted, that may be in thankfulness that it's over rather than appreciation of my attempt to emulate Phil Collins, but I don't care. The one I do care about walks beside me as we make our way back to the table.

"I can't believe you actually did that," Midnight murmurs as she hops into the booth. She's trying to regain some semblance of a straight face, but it's not coming together well.

"Yeah well... to use someone else's famous words, 'it felt right'," I comment, trying to keep a straight face myself – and also failing at it. Midnight reaches and lightly raps the back of my hand with her hoof as I fiddle with my plate.

"So... any chance we'll be able to come back here again after that?" I suggest.

"That depends," Midnight quickly replies, pretending to mull her decision for a moment. "You think you can stomach showing your face in here after that embarrassing show?"

"I think I can manage. Maybe we could do a proper duet next time."

Midnight recoils, scoffing at the idea. "Dream on, fucker."

"Mid, I don't think I can get anywhere close to Steven Tyler's vocal range. I'd butcher that song."

"Hoo boy. I think you just need to stop while you have my approval for a return visit. You're gonna make me reconsider with comments like that."