The Call of the Massacred

Her whole family was dead. Stone dead. But Vinyl Scratch didn't shed a tear behind the plum purple shades she wore. They'd been dead for many a year now. Sometimes Vinyl would remember the warm hug of her mother, and she'd be a little gloomy, but she'd get over it. She lived a pretty good life. She was a great musician, she lived in an affordable apartment, she'd always been popular, she had a nice roommate and a great best friend. What else could a pony need? Well. Maybe a mom, or a dad. A brother, or a sister. A grandpa, a grandma, a cousin. But now was no time for an emotional breakdown. Vinyl Scratch wasn't Vinyl Scratch right now. She was DJ PON-3. And she was performing.

Everypony loved DJ PON-3, the most successful techno, hip hop, and dubstep artist in Canterlot. And beside her stood MC-1SH, the ever famous agent, manager, light technician, pyrotechnic and rapper, Vinyl's best friend. The crowd cheered and screamed as the two stepped onto the stage. There was something about them that everyone loved. Was it DJ PON-3's clean white fur, blue and silver streaked spiky mane and large purple shades? Or perhaps WC-1SH's dull light tone, swag hair, and rock star getup? The large, round aviators did go well with the black suit vest.

The roaring applause began to dye down as the DJ took her seat behind the mixing table. Vinyl spoke into the mic that stretched over the table. "Wazzup," was all it took to get the audience cheering ad screaming (and fainting) again.

MC spoke into his mic. "How's everypony tonight?" His response was a increase in screech volume. "Right! Let's Goooooo!"

The attention turned bak to Vinyl, who shouted into her microphone, "DJ PON-3!"

From across the stage came, "MC-W1SH!"

"W-w-w-w-why can't we just get DOWN!!!" Shouted Vinyl Scratch, and as the word "down" exited her lips, the wobble base that everypony was waiting for made it's first appearance. Wub, wub, wub, EERIE! EEIRE! wub, wub, wub, EERIE! EERIE!

Two hours, nineteen bass drops and three hundred forty-six wub-wubs later, the floor beneath the two beloved ponies finally began to sink down into the stage, taking the performers with it. Vinyl Scratch stepped off her platform. Beside her, MC-1SH, known to everypony off stage as Neon Lights, had just given one more "Thank you Canterlot!" and was now slowly submerging down below the stage. Immediately, the stage crew came to congratulate them.

"All right, all right," Neon announced, "Thank you, everypony. That turned out pretty well I guess. Although next time," his voice swung to a threatening sound directed at the lighting crew, "Try and get the timing right on that strobe." The four ponies hung their heads in shame. "Right then. We've all had a long night. Time to go home and get some rest. Big day tomorrow." It was a big day. Vinyl knew it. She was supposed to perform for at Princess Cadance and Captain Shining Armor's one-year anniversary. "All right. see you all tomorrow. Goodnight."

The trip home was a pain. Vinyl departed from the park she'd played at, then walked three blocks down to the bus station. She boarded 324 and took it all the way to the other side of Canterlot - far from her home. From there she took the 250 for twelve blocks, then got off and got on the 402, which dropped her off a couple blocks away from her apartment. She walked the rest of the way. When Vinyl finally arrived at her building, she had to then take the elevator up to floor nine, then walk down the hall, turn a corner, down another hall, turn the corner and half way down the next until she finally reached room 422. Home.

Octavia was a elegant cellist, whom lived in an apartment with her crazy roommate. A very loud and out of control pony indeed. So the classical artist took advantage of when her hipster friend was away. Finally. Piece and quite. When a pony could practice her cello. The pony strode across the room, to fetch a large, black, case. Ziiiiiip. Octavia pulled the case open and gazed in at the smooth finish of the large, stringed beauty. Just then, the door flung open and the ever so loud ad disruptive roommate, Vinyl Scratch, entered.

"Sup, Tavi," the pony exclaimed, tossing her shades onto the couch.

Octavia sighed. "Veenyl," was all she said as she reluctantly closed the case. No point in trying to practice with her here.

Vinyl proceeded to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and pulled out a Moxie. "Aren't ya gonna ask me how I did, Tav?"

"How deed you do?" Octavia questioned.

"Eh. Come see, come saw."

"You're pronouncing eet wrong."

"Whatevs."

Octavia snorted. She and Vinyl were friends, but sometimes she wondered if they still would be eve if they weren't roommates. Vinyl answered that question fast. She marched into her bedroom, shut the door, and turned on some death metal, blasting loud. But her roommate was used to this. Octavia just pulled out the earplugs she always kept in her favorite striped socks.