Now Approaching Midnightby Roxy ShotChaptersFloat Up from DreamWhisky WalkHer Name Is P0N3Float Up from DreamYour body feels weightless as you drift through a warm void. Your hooves tingle with pins and needle like sensations as you try to move them closer to your body. You feel your mane and tail float effortlessly through space as if submerged in water, but in your lungs the sweetest smelling breath is inhaled and exhaled. Your eyes flicker open and you find yourself sitting sideways on a soft and fluffy blue recliner. Your appendages hang off the chair as you roll your head from side to side trying to turn the world right side up. After a few attempts, you manage to sit upright in the chair and brush a lock of two toned orange mane out of your eyes. With a sigh you plop back into the chair's cushions and look around one of the living rooms of your new house. Your parents sure knew how to live the life. The house was two stories with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. On the bottom floor were two spacious living rooms, the master bedroom, a bar and pool table, and a kitchen. Upstairs were the three guest rooms, a bathroom, and another living room type area. The place was now yours after your mother's passing. A nice ceremony had been held in her honor and the mayor of a small town called Ponyville had shoved a deed to your mother's house in your hooves between sobs. You had been living here for about a week now, or so you guessed. Your stomach lets out an agitated growl and you sigh back at it. It seems that the neighponese and Gentlemen Buck Daniels from last night did not satisfy your stomach too well. Note to self, never mix neighponese and whiskey again. You then roll your eyes and hop up from the chair. You then trot to the kitchen and slap a piece of toast in the toaster. A piece of bread in the toaster. When exactly does bread transcend being bread and become toast anyway? Your stomach growls again. Food, right. You let the soon to be toast start toasting and pry open the refrigerator, hoping for something better than toast. Fat chance, you still hadn’t been shopping in the last week. Oats it is then. Once done making breakfast, you sit down at an oak table and consume freely. A breakfast of starch isn't what you had in mind, but it does warm your stomach and stop it's complaining. On the way back to the kitchen sink, you spot the love of your life out of the corner of your eye. You walk into the other living room with her and lightly caress the surface of her smooth vinyl. You then trace your hoof along the four channel mixer and across the turntable on the other side. You had become a disk jockey from a young age, imitating and wanting to impress your father who was also a DJ. Your father only played local clubs and came out with two albums. Instead of touring Equestria, he stayed home with your mother and you, leaving you with a memorable childhood. He had passed away four years ago in a train accident on the way to DJ in Stallingrad for a college friend who was getting married. He passed a year after your first album had been released, at the time you were seventeen. You then chose to work harder at your career and became a hit amongst the underground DJ movement. Along on tours, your mother was happy to let you pursue your dreams while she moved to the small town of Ponyville. You had offered to live with her, but she was a very firm mare in insisting you make the most of your young life. Six years and three albums later, your mother passed away due to type A influenza. Your stomach growled again, snapping out of your day dream. Food, right. You left your DJ table and headed to the kitchen were you leave two large saddle bags for shopping days. You preferred buying in bulk, less price and you could last longer before needing to head into town. Strapping on your two bags, you lock the front door and head into the small town of Ponyville that you've not heard so much about. You step out to the warm afternoon air and stretch out your wings to the fullest. Your buttercup yellow coat shines in the morning light and you pull your wings back to your side. You decide to walk to Ponyville and enjoy the radiant sunlight provided by princess Celestia. Your house in only fifteen minutes to the center of Ponyville and already you can see various ponies have already set up shop. The market place is full of ponies of all kinds. Earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorn alike flood the streets in order to refill their pantries. To your right a brown earth pony with a jet black mane has a wagon filled to the brim with potatoes and to your left a light cream pony with a burgundy mane stands behind a stand with vases full of vibrant colored roses. "Hey mister! Y'all lookin' fer some fresh apples today?" you hear a voice ask below you. Looking down you spot a young filly with a yellow coat and rose colored hair with a pink bow in it. She looks up at you with her large auburn eyes and waits for an answer. "Yes, yes I would miss," you respond and follow her to a car full of red and green apples. "Welcome," a giant red earth pony with a blonde mane nods at you. You nod back at him and begin to fill one of your saddle bags up with various apples. "You new 'round here?" the stallion asks as you place a Braeburn in your bag. "Yes, thought it would be a nice place to settle down," you lie. "Names Big Mac," he says and holds a hoof out. "Sam," you lie again. Sam had been pseudonym you commonly used on tour and ordering pizzas. The minute you let your name drop to someone, the press comes around the corner to stuff a microphone in you muzzle. If you really were going to say in Ponyville, it would be easier without reporters stalking you. "Ten Granny Smith, five Red Delicious, ten Braeburn, and five Macintosh," you say as you finish filling up your saddle bag. "Forty-five bits, how would ya like to come drinkin' with a few of the colts tonight, Sam?" he asks. You give him the bits and pause when your mind processes the question he just asked you. Drinking, with colts you've never met before. Ok, ok, you've been hit on by a few stallions on your tours, this is nothing new. "Jus to meet some of the towns folk an welcome you to our town. Nothing fancy," he clarifies. Well, why not. You figure a break from your new house would do you good, and it's been awhile since you've made any new friends. "Sure, I'm assuming you live on the only apple farm in town. When should I meet you?" you ask as you remember passing a large apple orchard on your way to town. You can't tell if Big Mac is pleased you accepted his invasion or not. His face still portrays the same bored look as it did when you met him. "Eyup, Sweet Apple Acres is the name. We like to head out 'round seven," he responds in the same monotone voice. "I guess I see you then," you reply and wave at him as you leave to finish your shopping. * * * You arrive home at three twenty-seven and spread out your saddle bags on the kitchen counter. On your adventure into town you bought thirty apples, three bunches of romaine lettuce, three bunches of red leaf lettuce, five carrots, and two six packs of Stallion Dew Amp Overload. Energy drinks had pretty much become your life blood after years of late night DJ-ing and you wouldn't want it any other way. After putting your groceries away, you trot to the master bedroom and flop down on your bed. As much as your body wants to drift out of consciousness and rest, you remind yourself that there are things to do, like getting a shower and eating before meeting Big Mac and his friends for drinks. You pull yourself up with a sigh and trot to the bathroom. You turn on the water and let it reach just the right temperature before hopping in. The water is warm to the touch and drenches your mane and coat. You give the water a moment to wash over your body and your thoughts before getting clean. You don't take long in the shower; you never really do unless you end up staring off into space before a show. You quickly dry your body off, but take time on your wings. After you're satisfied, you throw the towel aside and walk out to your living room. You notice an open window and go to close it when you spot a multicolored speck in the distance. You narrow your eyes to get a closer look and find it is approaching very quickly. You try to move out of the way, but are too slow. The blue blur slams into you and sends you tumbling across the floor. "Man, anypony get the number of that train?" you say and try to sit up, but you find your body pinned to the ground. You open your eyes and glance down to find a blend of red, orange, and yellow mane resting on your chest. The unidentified pony lifts its head and mumbles something unintelligible. She. This pony is a mare you notice as she lays sprawled out on top of you. She pushes herself up, using you as some kind of placemat and shakes her head. Her eyes finally flutter open and she finds her muzzle only a few inches from you. "Boo," you whisper and she yelps and jumps off of you. She then begins to frantically string together multiple apologizes and explanations at once that turn out as a jumbled mess. You do however, manage to pick out the words: sorry, fast, trick, sorry, landing, wonderbolts, sorry, into you, and sorry. "You know, thieves usually try to be stealth and quiet when breaking into someponies house," you explain to the cyan pegasus with the rainbow mane. "W-what!? I'm not a thief," she exclaims when a surprised look on her face. You just smirk to yourself and decide to egg her on. "You sure you're not one of those sexy bandits who steal from single handsome stallions like myself?" you ask. "I'm not a bandit or whatever, I just accidently crashed into your house! Sorry," she explains as her face heats up. "Not a bandit? What about sexy then?" You chuckle. "Hey bub! I just so happen to be taken by Spitfire, you know who that is?" she mocks and sticks her tongue out at you . "Yeah, in fact I think I hear her calling. Outside," you retort and lead her to your door. "Wait, seriously? Your a pegasus that doesn't know who Spitfire is? And why don't you have a cloud home like other pegasi?" she unloads question after question as you push her outside. Of course you knew how Spitfire was, but you seriously doubted that she would hook up with a mare, and one from a small town such as Ponyville. Spitfire was famous, and celebrities love to keep up their appearance you learned in the few years you had been touring Equestria. Not to say Spitfire was a shallow mare or anything, you had not met her. "See ya sexy bandit," you say and close the door in her face. Well, that’s not the strangest thing you've ever dealt with. You just shrug it off however and trot to your kitchen. You take out one head of romaine and one head of green leaf lettuce. You make quick work of them with a kitchen knife and place the shreds into a bowl. You the garnish the salad with sliced carrots and small cubes of cheddar cheese. As you ate your salad in silence, a new thought came to mind: How long were you going to stay here? You told Big Mac that you had come to Ponyville to settle down. Maybe you do need to settle down for a while. You then thought about leaving to go on tour again. You could sell the house and leave, or you could keep the house as a secluded get away place between tours. Your thoughts were then interrupted as you bit down on your fork. Your salad had run out. On your way to the sink, you check the oven's clock. It reads six thirty-four. You had better get moving to Sweet Apple Acres. * * * You arrive at Sweet Apple Acres a few minutes later and spot Big Mac and another stallion you have not met before. The mystery stallion has a pale yellow coat, a short blue mane and tail, and two bunches of green grapes as his cutie mark. You trot up to the two as they make idle talk and they turn to greet you. "Glad to see ya made it, Sam. This is Colton Vines," Mac says and introduces his friend. "Vines is fine, good to meet you Sam," Vines says and holds out his hoof. "Good to meet you too Vines," you return his greeting and firmly shake his hoof. You then catch Big Mac and Vines nervously scanning the apple orchard. You try to follow their gaze, but you don't see anything out of the ordinary. "We should git goin'," Mac states. "I agree. We should make haste," Vines agrees. You raise an eyebrow to Big Mac and Vines in confusion, but they just nod back at you and begin to trot towards town. "Waaaaaait!" you hear a voice sound far behind you. You turn to see a distant pale yellow and brown pony shaped speck running towards the group. "Who or what is that?" you ask turning to Big Mac and Vines. "...Caramel," they both answer while exhaling a held breath. * * * Author's notes: Ok readers, I have a challenge for you. Sam needs a real name. I want anyone who thinks of a name to leave it in the comment box and the most popular one will be his name in Chapter 2. Also, any form of constructive criticism would be appreciated <3 Whisky Walk"...And that's when I said 'That's not a coat hanger, that's my wife!'" It had only been a few minutes since the three stallions; Big Mac, Colton Vines, Caramel, and yourself, began in the direction of Ponyville's pub and already you had heard three stories, six puns, and seven knock-knock jokes from Caramel. "Are we there yet?" you whisper to Big Mac. He shakes his head in response and continues to trot forward. You let out an audible sigh and continue to follow. "I did not know you had a wife chap," Vines says to Caramel. "Well, no. But the joke was, ya know," Caramel replied, slightly distracted. You had noticed that it was some unspoken contest between Vines and Caramel to see if Vines could catch a part of Caramel's story that didn't quite add up. Caramel's first story was about last year's Winter Wrap Up and how somepony had lost the seeds for planting when Caramel had singlehoofedly fought for the seeds against a manticore, became the town hero, and impressed the mare of his dreams. Vines then corrected the story by sharing how Caramel has misplaced the seeds, but then found them back at home right where he'd left them the night before. Caramel retorted by saying his story was more campfire appropriate. Caramel's next story was about how he had attended the Grand Galloping Gala and courted a local fashion designer by the name of Rarity to spending a romantic night with him. Vines again shared his side of the story and told how Caramel was used to pull the carriage of Rarity and her friends. Just as Caramel was about to start up another story, you turned your attention to the sky. It was only a quarter past seven at the most, but being winter time, the days became shorter and the nights longer. The sky was in late twilight with dark blues and light purples. The night's first stars had just begun to shine through the open sky and dot the cosmos above. You close your eyes as you trot and recall a time back in your childhood. You were young, around fourteen years old and laying outside on the porch with you father. You remember your fathers coat was a dark and rich yellow and he had a light brown mane. Your father had brought out a small MPC, a turntable, and an eight channel mixer. Two sets of headphones were connected to an eight channel mixer, one set sat on your head and your father was wearing the other. A soft melody emitted from your headphones and coursed through your body. Every few nights your father would allow you to stay up an extra half hour or so past your bedtime so the two of you could watch the night sky together. Your father told he that he always looked to the night sky for inspiration. "Nice night isn't it kiddo?" your father says aloud. You slide the headphones so one side still covers an ear and the other is off your ear so you can still hear the music while your father speaks. "Out in the cold again you two? Just what am I going to do with the two of you?" you hear a voice behind you. You turn your head and find your mother with a concerned look on her face and a blanket on her back. She then takes a place beside you, putting you in between her and your father. Your mother spreads out her blanket, sharing the warmth with your father and you. "Sam? We're here," Big Mac's voice sounded, waking you from your day dream. Vines and Caramel were looking at you with confused faces, probably wondering why you were staring off into space. "So we are, sorry about that. Daydreaming," you explained. You look up at the building and take in it's charm. The words 'On The Rocks: Bar and Pool Hall' were illuminated in giant florescent green lights along with many other smaller neon signs of popular brands of liquor. You enter the bar and hold the door open for your new acquaintances. "Oh it's you three, again," a feminine voice sounds behind you. The voice belonged to a cream colored unicorn with a burgundy mane. Mac just smiled and trotted up to her. Upon closer inspection, the unicorn had baby blue eyes and an orange tiger lily in her mane. Cute. "Eyup, we're here to start up some trouble, 'gain," Mac responded with a gentle smile. "Oh and you brought a friend," she spoke and turned her attention to you. "Yep, I'm new here. Sam," you introduced yourself and held out a hoof. "Roxanne, but call me Roxy or I'll see you kicked out. Sorry to see you with these hooligans, let me know if they give you any trouble," she jokes and shakes your hoof. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Mac roll his eyes. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," you respond. "Sit wherever and someone will get to you," she says and heads back to the bar. The four of you head to a booth in the corner and sit down. You notice the inside of the bar is a lot more decorated then you would have thought from looking at the outside. Neon covered the bar in form of signs and clocks which reflected of the polished surfaces of the floor and tables. Sharing the wall with signs, multiple band posters were hung up as well, most of them signed. Equestrian Buck, The Colt, Deftmanes, Nine Inch Hooves, and Stone Trottin' Pilots, were a few to catch your eye. "I've got the first round guys," Caramel says and trots to the bar. You then turn to Big Mac and Vines. "So, I know Mac runs an apple orchard, but what do you do Vines?" you ask. "I tend to my grape vine. Most goes to creating fine wine, the rest I sell," he responds happily. "White, red, Merlot?" you ask. "A bit of everything, but the majority is white wine. My grandfather started the vine when Ponyville was first getting settled and it's been passed down the family tree," Vines explains. "Interesting, what about Caramel?" you ask. "I'm a farm helper. I lend a hoof to whoever needs me," Caramel answers and slides a tray off of his back and on to the table. Four martini glasses were on the try with a blue liquid inside. "What about you?" Vines asks as he takes a glass. "I'm... in the music business. I DJ for small nightclubs and bars," you half-lie and take a sip of your martini. You notice it's a gin martini and choke down a sip. "Oh oh! Do you know DJ P0N-3? She's so cool," Caramel exclaims. DJ P0N-3, aka Vinyl Scratch, now that's a name you're well familiar with, but that's a flash back for another time. "Yeah, I've met her once or twice," you mumble and finish off your drink with a sour face. Vines then rustles through his saddle bag and brings out a deck of cards. "Twenty-one this time chaps?" Vines asks. Caramel and Big Mac nod their heads, you nod in agreement. "What we do here is play to see who buys the next round. The player with the least amount of wins buys the drinks," Caramel explains. Now you've played card games before, but you certainly were not a card shark. * * * "Eyup." "Well, I'll say." "Another win for Mr.C." "I'll go get the next round, again." This was the fourth round. The. Forth. Round. You knew you were not the best at cards, but this was certainly your unlucky day. All the luck in the world seemed to be showering Caramel tonight. Never in your wildest dreams would you suspect Caramel to have the best poker face of the table. You didn't mind paying for the drinks, you could probably live in Canterlot amongst the social elite if you wanted to, but your father taught you the values of having good friends and experiencing the world rather than hording material goods, but would winning one game of black jack be asking too much? You make your way over to the counter and order four shots of Patron with a slice of lime for each shot. Back at the table, you set the tray down and everypony grabs a shot glass. "Any of you ever had Patron before?" you ask. You are answered with your acquaintances shaking their heads. "Alright. Take the shot, and then suck on the lime. Trust me," you explain. You give an example by throwing back your shot. A burning liquid fills your mouth and you swallow. The smooth liquor slides down your throat and warms your stomach. Instantly after, you bite into the wedge of lime and suck its sour juices into your mouth to cancel out the burning. You nod to the others and they follow your example. "By Celestia's beard," Vines gasps and squints his eyes. To your left Caramel chokes on his shot and is clearly having difficulty forcing it down. Big Mac however, takes it like the stallion he is and lets out a warm breath. "Th-that was... woah mang... shhhhffff," Caramel slurs and leans into you. You look to Vines and Big Mac for help. "And he is gone," Vines chuckles. "Eyup," Mac agrees. Just what you need right now, a clingy drunk sitting right next to you. "T-this is why we sit across from Caramel," Vines explains before bursting out in hysterics. Mac just nods his head and your use this opportunity for a proper facehoof. "So Mac, tell me about yourself. Surely you don't run the farm by yourself?" you ask trying to start up conversation. "Welp, I have the help of mah two sisters Apple Jack and Apple Bloom. Course there's Granny Smith too, she takes care of all tha bakin'," Mac explains. "He also enjoys readin', deep conversations, an loooooong walks on tha beach," Caramel snorts and giggles to himself. "I see, is it nice having a big family?" you ask. "Eyup, aside from tha three ah live with, there are Apples all 'round Equestria," Mac replies. "How about you, Sam? Tell us about yourself chap," Vines inquires. You stop and think for a moment. At first you don't think this is a good idea, not sure you want to reveal so much about yourself to some ponies you just met. Then again, if you really are going to be staying in Ponyville for some time, the truth is going to come out sooner or later. Caramel slides another tray of martinis on the table, seems he left for more while you were lost in thought. You take a glass and bring it to your lips. Vodka martini this time, much better. "Well, my father was a DJ," you start, "named Frequency. DJ Freq. He was popular in the United Clopdom where he was born. After I was born, he and my mother moved to Equestria to settle down. He was my inspiration, the reason I picked up DJ-ing. He passed away when I was seventeen." "I am sorry for your loss," Vines spoke. Big Mac and Caramel lowered their heads as well, offering their sympathy. "My mother then chose to move to Ponyville and insisted I continue to follow my DJ career. I made sure to write and visit her as often as I could. She passed away two weeks ago, I inherited her house and have been living here for about a week," you continued. "You are Night Lily's son? By Celestia, she would talk about you all the time. I could have sworn her son was named... Amp or something though," Vines said. "Amplitude, Sam is kind of a nickname. How did you know my mother?" you ask, interested in how Vines and your mother knew each other. None of the three Stallions seemed to catch on to your name. Big Mac looked more like the type to be into country and you could see Vines as a classical kind of stallion. Caramel might have been able to recognize your name, as he knew Vinyl, but he seemed too far under the table to catch much of anything right now. "She had a taste for fine wine, so she and I got to know each other quite well. She was always so proud of you, it's good to finally meet you in pony," he explained. You were taken aback however, and lost your response. You knew she had always been proud of you, but you never know she expressed it to others. A wet sensation ran down your cheek and you wiped it away with a hoof. "I am sorry, I did not mean to-" Vines started before you cut him off. "No, no. Don't worry about it. I'm fine," you reassure him. "Welp, ah suppose it's time to git on outta here," Mac announces. You're not sure if this was from your small break down or not, but you were happy to get moving. * * * "Thanks Big Mac, this is it," you say at Big Mac and you arrive, or rather stumble, at your new house. Vines and Caramel had split from your path to head home, but Mac wanted to make sure you made it home safely. "Eyup. You weren't too annoyed with Caramel were ya?" he asks. A chuckle escapes your mouth before you can stop it. This is why he walked you home? Well, it's better than a love confession. "No, not at all. He's hyper, but I can tell he's a good colt," you respond. "Alright, G'night then," He says. "Goodnight," you respond and enter your house. With Big Mac gone and you finally to yourself, your thought focus back on what Vines said. Your mother had talked about you, missed you. You should have been here for her, at least in her last few days. She never told you about her illness. Anger built up inside, she should have told you. Buck your career and buck your tours, you weren't here when she needed you most. You plop down on a familiar blue recliner and pound your hoof against a wooden table in front of you. You strike it again and again until your hoof throbs with pain. Bottled up emotions finally begin to overflow and fill out. You feel all or your anger, sorrow, and confusion pour out of your eyes in the form of hot tears. You scream as loud as you can into the night. Her Name Is P0N3Author notes 'n' stuff: Three song links in this chapter. Sorry in advance. Been working on No More Ponies a lot recently, if you want this rate higher on my priority list, go vote for it in my blog. I'm going to sing the 'I need a bucking pre reader' song with a bottle of Jimmy now. Peace and enjoy! * * * Your body is once again released from gravity's grasp as you float through a familiar warm void. This time however, there is color. A dull gray stretches out in every direction. You attempt to move your left hoof and you feel it lift into the air. You hold your hoof strait up for a few moments before letting it drop down. Your arm fell as expected however, your body came with it. Your eyes shoot open as you are jolted awake by your body hitting the ground with a dull thud. You let out a surprised gasp and quickly survey your surroundings. Satin red room, hardwood floors, flipped over table, light blue sectional couch, and light blue recliner. Yep, you were home. You then pick yourself back to an upright position and quickly check yourself over, making sure all limbs were still intact and fully functional. You move your head left and right then roll your head around. Neck, check. Next you trot in place. Forelegs and hind legs check. Lastly you look back at your tail and hold a lock of your mane away from your head to get a look at it. Still the same two toned orange, and not neon pink this time, check. Your stomach groans, reminding you of breakfast. You let out a groan yourself and move to your kitchen. You glance at the oven clock, twelve thirty-three. Lunch then. You make another quick salad to satisfy your stomach. Lettuce, munch munch. Cheese, munch munch. Carrots, munch bucking munch. This is so boring. You then dive face first into the salad and devour it. "I'm bored," you say aloud and as if on cue, you hear a knock on your door. The first thing that jumps to your mind is media. They're here, they found you. You begin to panic. Those stallions, it was their fault. You made the mistake of letting your real name drop and they sold you location for a few bits. You slowly tip toe to your door and hear another knock. "N-no one is home at the moment, please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeep!" you answer. "Yeah. THAT makes sense," you hear a familiar and annoyed voice from outside. You slowly pry the door open and see a cyan blue mare with a rainbow mane. "Oh, it's just the sexy bandit. That's a relief," you greet her and let out a held breath. "Stop calling me that. The name's Rainbow Dash, pal. Say it with me Rain-bow Da-sh," she explains with a deadpanned expression. As long as she wasn't with the media, you really didn't care who she was. "Ok, deal. So what can I help you with Rain-bow Da-sh," you mock with a playful smile. "Look, there's a rave going down at The 047 tonight and Pinkie Pie decided to throw your 'Welcome to Ponyville' party there," Dash explains. "Alrigh- wait. Pinkie who?" you ask. It's cool and all that somepony you didn't know decided to throw you a party and all... no wait. That was just strange. "Pink mare with a pink mane. She throws a party for every new pony in Ponyville. It's strange that you haven't met her yet. Just show up at eight alright?" Dash says. "Ok, I'll be there. And thanks," you reply. Dash nods her head and takes to the sky with a powerful thrust of her wings, leaving a faint rainbow trail in her wake. You let out a yawn and close your front door. Instead of heading back to the living room, you trot to the second living room where your recording station was set up. This was now the recording room you decided. You sit down at the desk with all of your equipment and turn your laptop on. With a flick of your other hoof, the turntable and an MPC flickers to life as well. You insert a [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dNXMwcTAas]sample into your laptop and a gentle guitar emits. You then turn your attension to the MPD and strike one of the pads with your hoof. A strong drum beats through your headphones. You lift your other hoof and strike the machine again and again, bringing a strong beat to give the guitar some company. Next you find yourself focusing on a USB piano, playing it over and over again until it sounds perfect. * * * You finally let your eyes drift to the clock on the wall and hang your head. You had just spent around six hours in one session. It's already seven in the afternoon. Your stomach decides to let out a loud groan, just to reassure you. It would take you at least fifteen minutes to get to the middle of town, not to mention you had no idea where the venue was. A quick shower would take ten minutes and then there was food. You let out a sigh and gallop to the shower. You quickly turn the water on and yelp as the icy cold liquid hits your coat. You mentally push past the frosty water and quickly scrub yourself down. The water begins to warm up as you finish and you curse the water company. After drying your freezing flank, you trot to the kitchen and pick three apples from your refrigerator and tuck one under each wing and destroy the third with your mouth, core and all. You then head to your closet and take out a jacket. The jacket is a deep canvas green and is covered with stitched on patches and buttons. You had purchased this jacket at the start of your career and it had been through some pretty crazy stunts and hijinks. You transfer the two apples into the jacket's pockets and grab an energy drink out of the refrigerator. You then give your house one last check before leaving into the night. * * * "So let me get this straight. I take a left at the library, a left at Sugar Cube Corner, then a left at the Carousel Boutique?" you reviewed. When you arrived in town, the first thing you did was catch the first pony you could find and ask for directions the Ponyville's venue. The first pony you found however was a gray pegasus with bright yellow eyes which tended to drift in opposite directions . "Ummm... Yup!" the cheery pegasus answered. "... All right then, thank you for the help," you smiled and headed towards the library, hoping the mare was sending you in the correct direction. A few minutes later you reached the giant tree in the middle of the town and took a right, rather than three lefts. After a few more minutes of trotting in what you thought was the right direction, you reached an old looking brick building. 'Venue 047' was illuminated in bright blue letters on the side of the building and you let out a breath of relief. You didn't see anypony waiting outside and you didn't have a watch on you, so you assumed that you were late. A single gray pony with a blue Mohawk was leaning up against the building and staring off into space with a bored look on his face. Yep, that was the bouncer alright. "Yo, is this where a pony can party 'round here?" you ask as you approach the bouncer. "Name?" he yawns back at you and pops his neck. "Sam," you reply. The stallion quickly glances over a clipboard and looks back up at you. "Welcome to Ponyville, Sam," the stallion greets you and admits you entrance to the club. Inside, the venue is what you would expect. A strong beat fills the old and classy looking interior. The first thing past the entrance is a bar, a bar that you would defiantly be hitting later. Moving on there are several tables that you assumed were first come, first serve. A moderate sized dance floor is filled with ponies jumping and stomping hooves with the beat while neon lights are caught and reflected off the bouncing mass. Overhead you found a balcony with VIP seating and another bar. "Scream for me Ponyville!" you heard a familiar voice over the microphone. You turned your attention to the stage and smiled. On the turn tables was the one and only DJ P0N3, aka Vinyl Scratch. Her white coat absorbs and reflects the stage lights as her two toned blue mane swings back and forth as she bobs her head up and down. Hiding her eyes is her trademark purple shades. You didn't recognize the song she just played, must be new work. Good to hear she's still got it. "Oh hi! Are you Sam? You must be Sam, because I know everypony in Ponyville except for you and if I don't know you then you must be new in Ponyville! So welcome to Ponyville Sam! I threw this party just for you, ya know? I hope you like it because when I first saw you I thought to myself 'Wow Pinkie, that pony looks like he'd enjoy a sweet rave party'. So I noticed there was going to be a crazy party here already tonight so I asked if I could throw another party at the same time, like a double party! I thought it would be twice the fun! How about you? Do you like it? Huh? Huh? Huh?" a high pitch voice assaulted your ears over the thumping music. You turn your attention to the left and find the owner of the voice to be a bright pink pony with a darker pink mane. She had a goofy smile stretched across her face and you couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, it's really cool. Thanks... Pinkie was it?" you reply. "Yup! I'm Pinkie Pie, Ponyville's very own party pony! Nopony throws a party like Pinkie Pie and-," she yapped until a cyan blue hoof was shoved into her maw. "Ok, Pinkie. I think he gets it," Dash says and wipes the pink pony's saliva off her hoof. Pinkie just nods her head up and down and bounces back to the dance floor. "Well, she's an energetic one. Thanks Dash," you say. "Yeah, no problem. Before you ask, yes she's always like that and you'll get used to her eventually," Dash explains with a deadpanned expression. You can tell that this isn't the first time she's had to explain Pinkie's behavior. "I see," you simply reply. "Hey, you wanna join Spitfire, Soarin', and me? We got a table before they were all taken," Dash asks and motions towards a secluded table in the back of the club. Sure enough Spitfire and Soarin' are making idle chatter. Maybe Dash wasn't lying about dating the captain of the Wonderbolts. "Sure." The two of you then trot to the bar and pick up a round of drinks. As you follow Dash back to her table, the crowd suddenly erupts and shouts "Yes! Oh My Gwad!" before the loud thumping continues. You tilt your head and chuckle to yourself. "No way! Is that you Amp?" Soarin' asks as Dash and you reach the table. Well there goes your cover. Should not have worn the jacket. Defiantly should not have worn the jacket. "Soarin', I'm surprised you remember me," you answer and take a seat beside him as Dash scoots next to Spitfire and nuzzles into her neck. "Amp? As in ‘the’ DJ Amp? I thought your name was Sam?" Dash asks with a confused look on her face. "Whoops, blew it didn't I?" Soarin' whispers to you. You give him a deadpanned look in response. "Yep, we met a few years back after one of my shows. I bummed his last cigarette in trade for dinner with my crew," you explain to the two mares across the table. "You used to smoke? Soarin'!" Spitfire scolds. "Payback," you whisper to Soarin'. "Hey! I quit before I joined the Bolts. My only addiction now is sweet apple pie and there is no way I'm giving that up," Soarin' retorts causing the table to share a laugh. The atmosphere began to change as a slower and more soothing song starts to play and fill the building with gentle sounds. "Oh! I love this one! Let's go dance," Dash lights up and practically drags Spitfire out to the dance floor, leaving you with Soarin' and a table full of alcohol. "So how did you know it was me? The jacket?" you ask. "Oh yeah. My name is Amp and growing out my mane is the secret to becoming a master of disguise," Soarin' mocks. "Screw you," you laugh back. "Nice cover story by the way, my old partner in crime," Soarin' scoffs and takes a drink. "Yeah, like I was going to sell out my best bud. I'm assuming, well, hoping to Celestia you didn't tell your boss about the kind of trouble we used to get into," you laugh and lift a shot of whiskey to your lips. "My lips have been sealed, so what are you doing in a small town like Ponyville?" he asks. "I could ask you the same," you retort. "Like I had a choice. I got drug here with Spitfire who got drug here by Rainbow Dash. Like some crazy domino effect," Soarin' explains. "I see, my mother died and I inherited her house in Ponyville," you say and throw back another shot. Soarin' chokes on his drink, obviously not expecting your answer and scratches the back of his head. "Damn. Uhh... Sorry, I didn't mean...," Soarin' fumbles over his words. "No, no. You didn't know, it's alright. I've had two weeks to sulk about it, I just want to have a good time right now," you were quick to retort. You let your eyes wonder about dance floor where you spot Rainbow Dash and Spitfire. Dash is stomping her hooves, jumping up and down, shouting to the music, and losing herself in Vinyl's beat. Spitfire on the other hand looks like she's made of lead. Her body is clearly having trouble getting moving, her posture is slouched over, and she wears a fake looking smile whenever her eyes meet Dash's. "So what's up with your boss?" you ask Soarin' as he sips on his drink. "What do you mean brony?" he asks back. "Well, either she sucks at dancing or something is up," you retort. "She's just having an off day," Soarin' answers nervously and tries to focus his attention elsewhere. "C'mon, I know you know more than you're telling me. Is it Dash?" you ask. "What do you mean?" Soarin' answers your question with another question, again. Now he's asking for it. "Dash nuzzled into her when we sat down, Spitfire didn't give even a hint of a response. Look at them dancing; Spitfire might as well be nailed to the floor. Look closely when the two meet eyes, she's forcing herself to smile," you explain. Your middle name isn't perception, but you were convinced that your parents made a mistake when naming you Amplitude Tiger Lily. "I still don't see why you're not a detective or something," Soarin' laughs and finishes his first drink. "She's been having doubts," Soarin' continues. "She's starting to think she rushed into another relationship after getting blown off by some stallion. I guess she thought she'd try mares after having sour luck with a few stallions. She's afraid her feelings for Dash are forced, but doesn't want to break Dash's heart with a break up. I'm her new ranting buddy if you couldn't tell, not that I mind. We all gotta have someone to rant to, ya know?" "Yeah, that sounds like a tough situation to be in," you let out a deep breath and notice the music has stopped. "That's in for me Ponyville, Goodnight!" Vinyl exclaims hops off stage. You see her bump hooves with the ponies in the crowd and make her way over to the bar. "I'm gonna go say 'hi' to Vinyl," you tell Soarin' and leave the table as Rainbow Dash and Spitfire arrive back from the dance floor. "Jimmy Buck strait for me and Jack on the rocks for the lady here," you tell the bar colt as you approach. Vinyl scoffs on the bar stool, but doesn't turn to face you. "I'm perfectly capable of purchasing my own drinks, bub," Vinyl says and rests her head her hooves. "Good, you can buy the next round Vee," you answer and take a seat next to her. Vinyl jolts up and she lifts her shades to get a better look at you. She turns to you with a wide smile on her muzzle and softly bumps you on the shoulder with her hoof. "Amp? You let your mane grow out," Vinyl notices and laughs. "Yup, I heard it was on the rage in Canterlot," you joke back. "So how'd you like my show?" Vinyl asks proudly as the bar colt returns with your drinks. "I remember an 'Amp' being between the 'Yes' and 'Oh my gwad'," you reply and cause Vinyl to snort as she attempts to take a drink. You laugh aloud at the sight and get punched in the shoulder. "You still have one hell of a right hook I see," you comment before she hits you again. "So what brings you to Ponyville?" "Came here to settle down. A request from my better half," she answers and lifts her drink. Vinyl has a coltfriend? Teasing sense activated. "Vee has a cooooltfriend? OoooOOoooh~," you make sure to draw out long and loud. She turns her back to you and mumbles something inaudible, blushing under her white coat. "What was that?" you scoff. "...'s a mare...friend," she whispers. Teasing sense overload. "You... What? With a m-mare?" you pretend to choke out and force a shocked look on your face. "Y-yeah," she blushes. You lean back in your seat and run a hoof through your mane as you let out a loud sigh. You then lean in close to her and whisper in her ear. "Is she... hot?" You ask. Smack! Right in the kisser. "Screw you Amp! I can't believe I fell for that," she laughs in relief and lets out a deep breath while you die from lack of oxygen. "Oh man. Sorry, sorry. I totally deserved that one," you manage to apologize between bounds of laughter. "Yeah, ya did. Anyway, her name's Octavia. She's a cello player from Canterlot," Vinyl explained. "Ahh, I've heard of her. Sampled her work before for my music. Gray coat, black mane?" you clarify. "That's my mare. Your music is actually some of the little electronica I can get her to listen to. You, your dad, and Trot Yorke. I'm slowly corrupting her," Vinyl answers. "Is that right? So when do I meet her?" you ask with a devious grin. "Never. She's the jealous type, so if one of us were to slip up about our past together, we'll both be six feet under," she laughs and throws back the rest of her drink. "Well, you know I love a good brush with death once and a while," you chuckle and down your scotch. "Yeah, well, another time if you're good. So what brings you to Ponyville, huh?" she asks. "Mother died, inherited her house," you try to answer nonchalantly. If Vinyl's coat wasn't already white, you would have sworn she just went pale. "Ahhh, damn it. I'm sorry," she quickly apologizes and nervously latches onto your side, forcing you into a hug. You let out a deep sigh and wait patiently until she lets you go, fearing that if you were to return her embrace, you would break down in the middle of your welcoming party. "It's alright, you didn't know," you say. Dropping the news of your mother's death to your two best friends so soon was not what you had planned, but you would not let yourself lie to them. The quicker they knew and moved on, the quicker you would too. "I hate to leave now, but I've got to get back to Octavia. Can't leave a mare waiting y'know?" Vinyl says and hops off the barstool. "I understand, good to see you again," you reply. "We should get together sometime and catch up," Vinyl suggests and holds out a hoof to you. "Sure. Bring your mare to my place and we can chill for an evening. First house past Sweet Apple Acres," you reply and bump hooves with Vinyl. She gives you one last smile and turns to leave the club. You return to your table where Rainbow Dash is face down on the table and Soarin' is laughing his flank off. "What happened here?" you ask and take a seat next to Soarin'. "Somepony can't handle a little alcohol," Soarin' mocks as Dash pulls herself up. "'Ey, Ah can handle a... whole lot mo' foo," Dash replies and drops her head back onto the table. "Imma gonna git her home 'n' stuff, don't stay out too late Soarin'," Spitfire hiccups and drapes an unconscious Rainbow Dash over her back. Soarin' and you watch as Spitfire stumbles towards the exit and a laugh escapes your lips. "Ehh, it is getting late. We should catch up sometime though, what are you doing tomorrow?" Soarin' asks and gets up from the table. "Nothing, feel free to swing by anytime. First house past Sweet Apple Acres," you reply knowing full well that Soarin' would know where Sweet Apple Acres was at the first day of arriving in town. You stand with him and walk outside into the brisk night air. With Vinyl and Soarin' leaving, you didn't feel the need to stick around. "Sure, I'll be at Ponyville's Inn. Room 107," He states and stretches his wings. He then takes to the night sky and heads after the two drunken lovers. You let out a soft sigh and head towards home. Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.
Float Up from DreamYour body feels weightless as you drift through a warm void. Your hooves tingle with pins and needle like sensations as you try to move them closer to your body. You feel your mane and tail float effortlessly through space as if submerged in water, but in your lungs the sweetest smelling breath is inhaled and exhaled. Your eyes flicker open and you find yourself sitting sideways on a soft and fluffy blue recliner. Your appendages hang off the chair as you roll your head from side to side trying to turn the world right side up. After a few attempts, you manage to sit upright in the chair and brush a lock of two toned orange mane out of your eyes. With a sigh you plop back into the chair's cushions and look around one of the living rooms of your new house. Your parents sure knew how to live the life. The house was two stories with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. On the bottom floor were two spacious living rooms, the master bedroom, a bar and pool table, and a kitchen. Upstairs were the three guest rooms, a bathroom, and another living room type area. The place was now yours after your mother's passing. A nice ceremony had been held in her honor and the mayor of a small town called Ponyville had shoved a deed to your mother's house in your hooves between sobs. You had been living here for about a week now, or so you guessed. Your stomach lets out an agitated growl and you sigh back at it. It seems that the neighponese and Gentlemen Buck Daniels from last night did not satisfy your stomach too well. Note to self, never mix neighponese and whiskey again. You then roll your eyes and hop up from the chair. You then trot to the kitchen and slap a piece of toast in the toaster. A piece of bread in the toaster. When exactly does bread transcend being bread and become toast anyway? Your stomach growls again. Food, right. You let the soon to be toast start toasting and pry open the refrigerator, hoping for something better than toast. Fat chance, you still hadn’t been shopping in the last week. Oats it is then. Once done making breakfast, you sit down at an oak table and consume freely. A breakfast of starch isn't what you had in mind, but it does warm your stomach and stop it's complaining. On the way back to the kitchen sink, you spot the love of your life out of the corner of your eye. You walk into the other living room with her and lightly caress the surface of her smooth vinyl. You then trace your hoof along the four channel mixer and across the turntable on the other side. You had become a disk jockey from a young age, imitating and wanting to impress your father who was also a DJ. Your father only played local clubs and came out with two albums. Instead of touring Equestria, he stayed home with your mother and you, leaving you with a memorable childhood. He had passed away four years ago in a train accident on the way to DJ in Stallingrad for a college friend who was getting married. He passed a year after your first album had been released, at the time you were seventeen. You then chose to work harder at your career and became a hit amongst the underground DJ movement. Along on tours, your mother was happy to let you pursue your dreams while she moved to the small town of Ponyville. You had offered to live with her, but she was a very firm mare in insisting you make the most of your young life. Six years and three albums later, your mother passed away due to type A influenza. Your stomach growled again, snapping out of your day dream. Food, right. You left your DJ table and headed to the kitchen were you leave two large saddle bags for shopping days. You preferred buying in bulk, less price and you could last longer before needing to head into town. Strapping on your two bags, you lock the front door and head into the small town of Ponyville that you've not heard so much about. You step out to the warm afternoon air and stretch out your wings to the fullest. Your buttercup yellow coat shines in the morning light and you pull your wings back to your side. You decide to walk to Ponyville and enjoy the radiant sunlight provided by princess Celestia. Your house in only fifteen minutes to the center of Ponyville and already you can see various ponies have already set up shop. The market place is full of ponies of all kinds. Earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorn alike flood the streets in order to refill their pantries. To your right a brown earth pony with a jet black mane has a wagon filled to the brim with potatoes and to your left a light cream pony with a burgundy mane stands behind a stand with vases full of vibrant colored roses. "Hey mister! Y'all lookin' fer some fresh apples today?" you hear a voice ask below you. Looking down you spot a young filly with a yellow coat and rose colored hair with a pink bow in it. She looks up at you with her large auburn eyes and waits for an answer. "Yes, yes I would miss," you respond and follow her to a car full of red and green apples. "Welcome," a giant red earth pony with a blonde mane nods at you. You nod back at him and begin to fill one of your saddle bags up with various apples. "You new 'round here?" the stallion asks as you place a Braeburn in your bag. "Yes, thought it would be a nice place to settle down," you lie. "Names Big Mac," he says and holds a hoof out. "Sam," you lie again. Sam had been pseudonym you commonly used on tour and ordering pizzas. The minute you let your name drop to someone, the press comes around the corner to stuff a microphone in you muzzle. If you really were going to say in Ponyville, it would be easier without reporters stalking you. "Ten Granny Smith, five Red Delicious, ten Braeburn, and five Macintosh," you say as you finish filling up your saddle bag. "Forty-five bits, how would ya like to come drinkin' with a few of the colts tonight, Sam?" he asks. You give him the bits and pause when your mind processes the question he just asked you. Drinking, with colts you've never met before. Ok, ok, you've been hit on by a few stallions on your tours, this is nothing new. "Jus to meet some of the towns folk an welcome you to our town. Nothing fancy," he clarifies. Well, why not. You figure a break from your new house would do you good, and it's been awhile since you've made any new friends. "Sure, I'm assuming you live on the only apple farm in town. When should I meet you?" you ask as you remember passing a large apple orchard on your way to town. You can't tell if Big Mac is pleased you accepted his invasion or not. His face still portrays the same bored look as it did when you met him. "Eyup, Sweet Apple Acres is the name. We like to head out 'round seven," he responds in the same monotone voice. "I guess I see you then," you reply and wave at him as you leave to finish your shopping. * * * You arrive home at three twenty-seven and spread out your saddle bags on the kitchen counter. On your adventure into town you bought thirty apples, three bunches of romaine lettuce, three bunches of red leaf lettuce, five carrots, and two six packs of Stallion Dew Amp Overload. Energy drinks had pretty much become your life blood after years of late night DJ-ing and you wouldn't want it any other way. After putting your groceries away, you trot to the master bedroom and flop down on your bed. As much as your body wants to drift out of consciousness and rest, you remind yourself that there are things to do, like getting a shower and eating before meeting Big Mac and his friends for drinks. You pull yourself up with a sigh and trot to the bathroom. You turn on the water and let it reach just the right temperature before hopping in. The water is warm to the touch and drenches your mane and coat. You give the water a moment to wash over your body and your thoughts before getting clean. You don't take long in the shower; you never really do unless you end up staring off into space before a show. You quickly dry your body off, but take time on your wings. After you're satisfied, you throw the towel aside and walk out to your living room. You notice an open window and go to close it when you spot a multicolored speck in the distance. You narrow your eyes to get a closer look and find it is approaching very quickly. You try to move out of the way, but are too slow. The blue blur slams into you and sends you tumbling across the floor. "Man, anypony get the number of that train?" you say and try to sit up, but you find your body pinned to the ground. You open your eyes and glance down to find a blend of red, orange, and yellow mane resting on your chest. The unidentified pony lifts its head and mumbles something unintelligible. She. This pony is a mare you notice as she lays sprawled out on top of you. She pushes herself up, using you as some kind of placemat and shakes her head. Her eyes finally flutter open and she finds her muzzle only a few inches from you. "Boo," you whisper and she yelps and jumps off of you. She then begins to frantically string together multiple apologizes and explanations at once that turn out as a jumbled mess. You do however, manage to pick out the words: sorry, fast, trick, sorry, landing, wonderbolts, sorry, into you, and sorry. "You know, thieves usually try to be stealth and quiet when breaking into someponies house," you explain to the cyan pegasus with the rainbow mane. "W-what!? I'm not a thief," she exclaims when a surprised look on her face. You just smirk to yourself and decide to egg her on. "You sure you're not one of those sexy bandits who steal from single handsome stallions like myself?" you ask. "I'm not a bandit or whatever, I just accidently crashed into your house! Sorry," she explains as her face heats up. "Not a bandit? What about sexy then?" You chuckle. "Hey bub! I just so happen to be taken by Spitfire, you know who that is?" she mocks and sticks her tongue out at you . "Yeah, in fact I think I hear her calling. Outside," you retort and lead her to your door. "Wait, seriously? Your a pegasus that doesn't know who Spitfire is? And why don't you have a cloud home like other pegasi?" she unloads question after question as you push her outside. Of course you knew how Spitfire was, but you seriously doubted that she would hook up with a mare, and one from a small town such as Ponyville. Spitfire was famous, and celebrities love to keep up their appearance you learned in the few years you had been touring Equestria. Not to say Spitfire was a shallow mare or anything, you had not met her. "See ya sexy bandit," you say and close the door in her face. Well, that’s not the strangest thing you've ever dealt with. You just shrug it off however and trot to your kitchen. You take out one head of romaine and one head of green leaf lettuce. You make quick work of them with a kitchen knife and place the shreds into a bowl. You the garnish the salad with sliced carrots and small cubes of cheddar cheese. As you ate your salad in silence, a new thought came to mind: How long were you going to stay here? You told Big Mac that you had come to Ponyville to settle down. Maybe you do need to settle down for a while. You then thought about leaving to go on tour again. You could sell the house and leave, or you could keep the house as a secluded get away place between tours. Your thoughts were then interrupted as you bit down on your fork. Your salad had run out. On your way to the sink, you check the oven's clock. It reads six thirty-four. You had better get moving to Sweet Apple Acres. * * * You arrive at Sweet Apple Acres a few minutes later and spot Big Mac and another stallion you have not met before. The mystery stallion has a pale yellow coat, a short blue mane and tail, and two bunches of green grapes as his cutie mark. You trot up to the two as they make idle talk and they turn to greet you. "Glad to see ya made it, Sam. This is Colton Vines," Mac says and introduces his friend. "Vines is fine, good to meet you Sam," Vines says and holds out his hoof. "Good to meet you too Vines," you return his greeting and firmly shake his hoof. You then catch Big Mac and Vines nervously scanning the apple orchard. You try to follow their gaze, but you don't see anything out of the ordinary. "We should git goin'," Mac states. "I agree. We should make haste," Vines agrees. You raise an eyebrow to Big Mac and Vines in confusion, but they just nod back at you and begin to trot towards town. "Waaaaaait!" you hear a voice sound far behind you. You turn to see a distant pale yellow and brown pony shaped speck running towards the group. "Who or what is that?" you ask turning to Big Mac and Vines. "...Caramel," they both answer while exhaling a held breath. * * * Author's notes: Ok readers, I have a challenge for you. Sam needs a real name. I want anyone who thinks of a name to leave it in the comment box and the most popular one will be his name in Chapter 2. Also, any form of constructive criticism would be appreciated <3
Whisky Walk"...And that's when I said 'That's not a coat hanger, that's my wife!'" It had only been a few minutes since the three stallions; Big Mac, Colton Vines, Caramel, and yourself, began in the direction of Ponyville's pub and already you had heard three stories, six puns, and seven knock-knock jokes from Caramel. "Are we there yet?" you whisper to Big Mac. He shakes his head in response and continues to trot forward. You let out an audible sigh and continue to follow. "I did not know you had a wife chap," Vines says to Caramel. "Well, no. But the joke was, ya know," Caramel replied, slightly distracted. You had noticed that it was some unspoken contest between Vines and Caramel to see if Vines could catch a part of Caramel's story that didn't quite add up. Caramel's first story was about last year's Winter Wrap Up and how somepony had lost the seeds for planting when Caramel had singlehoofedly fought for the seeds against a manticore, became the town hero, and impressed the mare of his dreams. Vines then corrected the story by sharing how Caramel has misplaced the seeds, but then found them back at home right where he'd left them the night before. Caramel retorted by saying his story was more campfire appropriate. Caramel's next story was about how he had attended the Grand Galloping Gala and courted a local fashion designer by the name of Rarity to spending a romantic night with him. Vines again shared his side of the story and told how Caramel was used to pull the carriage of Rarity and her friends. Just as Caramel was about to start up another story, you turned your attention to the sky. It was only a quarter past seven at the most, but being winter time, the days became shorter and the nights longer. The sky was in late twilight with dark blues and light purples. The night's first stars had just begun to shine through the open sky and dot the cosmos above. You close your eyes as you trot and recall a time back in your childhood. You were young, around fourteen years old and laying outside on the porch with you father. You remember your fathers coat was a dark and rich yellow and he had a light brown mane. Your father had brought out a small MPC, a turntable, and an eight channel mixer. Two sets of headphones were connected to an eight channel mixer, one set sat on your head and your father was wearing the other. A soft melody emitted from your headphones and coursed through your body. Every few nights your father would allow you to stay up an extra half hour or so past your bedtime so the two of you could watch the night sky together. Your father told he that he always looked to the night sky for inspiration. "Nice night isn't it kiddo?" your father says aloud. You slide the headphones so one side still covers an ear and the other is off your ear so you can still hear the music while your father speaks. "Out in the cold again you two? Just what am I going to do with the two of you?" you hear a voice behind you. You turn your head and find your mother with a concerned look on her face and a blanket on her back. She then takes a place beside you, putting you in between her and your father. Your mother spreads out her blanket, sharing the warmth with your father and you. "Sam? We're here," Big Mac's voice sounded, waking you from your day dream. Vines and Caramel were looking at you with confused faces, probably wondering why you were staring off into space. "So we are, sorry about that. Daydreaming," you explained. You look up at the building and take in it's charm. The words 'On The Rocks: Bar and Pool Hall' were illuminated in giant florescent green lights along with many other smaller neon signs of popular brands of liquor. You enter the bar and hold the door open for your new acquaintances. "Oh it's you three, again," a feminine voice sounds behind you. The voice belonged to a cream colored unicorn with a burgundy mane. Mac just smiled and trotted up to her. Upon closer inspection, the unicorn had baby blue eyes and an orange tiger lily in her mane. Cute. "Eyup, we're here to start up some trouble, 'gain," Mac responded with a gentle smile. "Oh and you brought a friend," she spoke and turned her attention to you. "Yep, I'm new here. Sam," you introduced yourself and held out a hoof. "Roxanne, but call me Roxy or I'll see you kicked out. Sorry to see you with these hooligans, let me know if they give you any trouble," she jokes and shakes your hoof. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Mac roll his eyes. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," you respond. "Sit wherever and someone will get to you," she says and heads back to the bar. The four of you head to a booth in the corner and sit down. You notice the inside of the bar is a lot more decorated then you would have thought from looking at the outside. Neon covered the bar in form of signs and clocks which reflected of the polished surfaces of the floor and tables. Sharing the wall with signs, multiple band posters were hung up as well, most of them signed. Equestrian Buck, The Colt, Deftmanes, Nine Inch Hooves, and Stone Trottin' Pilots, were a few to catch your eye. "I've got the first round guys," Caramel says and trots to the bar. You then turn to Big Mac and Vines. "So, I know Mac runs an apple orchard, but what do you do Vines?" you ask. "I tend to my grape vine. Most goes to creating fine wine, the rest I sell," he responds happily. "White, red, Merlot?" you ask. "A bit of everything, but the majority is white wine. My grandfather started the vine when Ponyville was first getting settled and it's been passed down the family tree," Vines explains. "Interesting, what about Caramel?" you ask. "I'm a farm helper. I lend a hoof to whoever needs me," Caramel answers and slides a tray off of his back and on to the table. Four martini glasses were on the try with a blue liquid inside. "What about you?" Vines asks as he takes a glass. "I'm... in the music business. I DJ for small nightclubs and bars," you half-lie and take a sip of your martini. You notice it's a gin martini and choke down a sip. "Oh oh! Do you know DJ P0N-3? She's so cool," Caramel exclaims. DJ P0N-3, aka Vinyl Scratch, now that's a name you're well familiar with, but that's a flash back for another time. "Yeah, I've met her once or twice," you mumble and finish off your drink with a sour face. Vines then rustles through his saddle bag and brings out a deck of cards. "Twenty-one this time chaps?" Vines asks. Caramel and Big Mac nod their heads, you nod in agreement. "What we do here is play to see who buys the next round. The player with the least amount of wins buys the drinks," Caramel explains. Now you've played card games before, but you certainly were not a card shark. * * * "Eyup." "Well, I'll say." "Another win for Mr.C." "I'll go get the next round, again." This was the fourth round. The. Forth. Round. You knew you were not the best at cards, but this was certainly your unlucky day. All the luck in the world seemed to be showering Caramel tonight. Never in your wildest dreams would you suspect Caramel to have the best poker face of the table. You didn't mind paying for the drinks, you could probably live in Canterlot amongst the social elite if you wanted to, but your father taught you the values of having good friends and experiencing the world rather than hording material goods, but would winning one game of black jack be asking too much? You make your way over to the counter and order four shots of Patron with a slice of lime for each shot. Back at the table, you set the tray down and everypony grabs a shot glass. "Any of you ever had Patron before?" you ask. You are answered with your acquaintances shaking their heads. "Alright. Take the shot, and then suck on the lime. Trust me," you explain. You give an example by throwing back your shot. A burning liquid fills your mouth and you swallow. The smooth liquor slides down your throat and warms your stomach. Instantly after, you bite into the wedge of lime and suck its sour juices into your mouth to cancel out the burning. You nod to the others and they follow your example. "By Celestia's beard," Vines gasps and squints his eyes. To your left Caramel chokes on his shot and is clearly having difficulty forcing it down. Big Mac however, takes it like the stallion he is and lets out a warm breath. "Th-that was... woah mang... shhhhffff," Caramel slurs and leans into you. You look to Vines and Big Mac for help. "And he is gone," Vines chuckles. "Eyup," Mac agrees. Just what you need right now, a clingy drunk sitting right next to you. "T-this is why we sit across from Caramel," Vines explains before bursting out in hysterics. Mac just nods his head and your use this opportunity for a proper facehoof. "So Mac, tell me about yourself. Surely you don't run the farm by yourself?" you ask trying to start up conversation. "Welp, I have the help of mah two sisters Apple Jack and Apple Bloom. Course there's Granny Smith too, she takes care of all tha bakin'," Mac explains. "He also enjoys readin', deep conversations, an loooooong walks on tha beach," Caramel snorts and giggles to himself. "I see, is it nice having a big family?" you ask. "Eyup, aside from tha three ah live with, there are Apples all 'round Equestria," Mac replies. "How about you, Sam? Tell us about yourself chap," Vines inquires. You stop and think for a moment. At first you don't think this is a good idea, not sure you want to reveal so much about yourself to some ponies you just met. Then again, if you really are going to be staying in Ponyville for some time, the truth is going to come out sooner or later. Caramel slides another tray of martinis on the table, seems he left for more while you were lost in thought. You take a glass and bring it to your lips. Vodka martini this time, much better. "Well, my father was a DJ," you start, "named Frequency. DJ Freq. He was popular in the United Clopdom where he was born. After I was born, he and my mother moved to Equestria to settle down. He was my inspiration, the reason I picked up DJ-ing. He passed away when I was seventeen." "I am sorry for your loss," Vines spoke. Big Mac and Caramel lowered their heads as well, offering their sympathy. "My mother then chose to move to Ponyville and insisted I continue to follow my DJ career. I made sure to write and visit her as often as I could. She passed away two weeks ago, I inherited her house and have been living here for about a week," you continued. "You are Night Lily's son? By Celestia, she would talk about you all the time. I could have sworn her son was named... Amp or something though," Vines said. "Amplitude, Sam is kind of a nickname. How did you know my mother?" you ask, interested in how Vines and your mother knew each other. None of the three Stallions seemed to catch on to your name. Big Mac looked more like the type to be into country and you could see Vines as a classical kind of stallion. Caramel might have been able to recognize your name, as he knew Vinyl, but he seemed too far under the table to catch much of anything right now. "She had a taste for fine wine, so she and I got to know each other quite well. She was always so proud of you, it's good to finally meet you in pony," he explained. You were taken aback however, and lost your response. You knew she had always been proud of you, but you never know she expressed it to others. A wet sensation ran down your cheek and you wiped it away with a hoof. "I am sorry, I did not mean to-" Vines started before you cut him off. "No, no. Don't worry about it. I'm fine," you reassure him. "Welp, ah suppose it's time to git on outta here," Mac announces. You're not sure if this was from your small break down or not, but you were happy to get moving. * * * "Thanks Big Mac, this is it," you say at Big Mac and you arrive, or rather stumble, at your new house. Vines and Caramel had split from your path to head home, but Mac wanted to make sure you made it home safely. "Eyup. You weren't too annoyed with Caramel were ya?" he asks. A chuckle escapes your mouth before you can stop it. This is why he walked you home? Well, it's better than a love confession. "No, not at all. He's hyper, but I can tell he's a good colt," you respond. "Alright, G'night then," He says. "Goodnight," you respond and enter your house. With Big Mac gone and you finally to yourself, your thought focus back on what Vines said. Your mother had talked about you, missed you. You should have been here for her, at least in her last few days. She never told you about her illness. Anger built up inside, she should have told you. Buck your career and buck your tours, you weren't here when she needed you most. You plop down on a familiar blue recliner and pound your hoof against a wooden table in front of you. You strike it again and again until your hoof throbs with pain. Bottled up emotions finally begin to overflow and fill out. You feel all or your anger, sorrow, and confusion pour out of your eyes in the form of hot tears. You scream as loud as you can into the night.
Her Name Is P0N3Author notes 'n' stuff: Three song links in this chapter. Sorry in advance. Been working on No More Ponies a lot recently, if you want this rate higher on my priority list, go vote for it in my blog. I'm going to sing the 'I need a bucking pre reader' song with a bottle of Jimmy now. Peace and enjoy! * * * Your body is once again released from gravity's grasp as you float through a familiar warm void. This time however, there is color. A dull gray stretches out in every direction. You attempt to move your left hoof and you feel it lift into the air. You hold your hoof strait up for a few moments before letting it drop down. Your arm fell as expected however, your body came with it. Your eyes shoot open as you are jolted awake by your body hitting the ground with a dull thud. You let out a surprised gasp and quickly survey your surroundings. Satin red room, hardwood floors, flipped over table, light blue sectional couch, and light blue recliner. Yep, you were home. You then pick yourself back to an upright position and quickly check yourself over, making sure all limbs were still intact and fully functional. You move your head left and right then roll your head around. Neck, check. Next you trot in place. Forelegs and hind legs check. Lastly you look back at your tail and hold a lock of your mane away from your head to get a look at it. Still the same two toned orange, and not neon pink this time, check. Your stomach groans, reminding you of breakfast. You let out a groan yourself and move to your kitchen. You glance at the oven clock, twelve thirty-three. Lunch then. You make another quick salad to satisfy your stomach. Lettuce, munch munch. Cheese, munch munch. Carrots, munch bucking munch. This is so boring. You then dive face first into the salad and devour it. "I'm bored," you say aloud and as if on cue, you hear a knock on your door. The first thing that jumps to your mind is media. They're here, they found you. You begin to panic. Those stallions, it was their fault. You made the mistake of letting your real name drop and they sold you location for a few bits. You slowly tip toe to your door and hear another knock. "N-no one is home at the moment, please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeep!" you answer. "Yeah. THAT makes sense," you hear a familiar and annoyed voice from outside. You slowly pry the door open and see a cyan blue mare with a rainbow mane. "Oh, it's just the sexy bandit. That's a relief," you greet her and let out a held breath. "Stop calling me that. The name's Rainbow Dash, pal. Say it with me Rain-bow Da-sh," she explains with a deadpanned expression. As long as she wasn't with the media, you really didn't care who she was. "Ok, deal. So what can I help you with Rain-bow Da-sh," you mock with a playful smile. "Look, there's a rave going down at The 047 tonight and Pinkie Pie decided to throw your 'Welcome to Ponyville' party there," Dash explains. "Alrigh- wait. Pinkie who?" you ask. It's cool and all that somepony you didn't know decided to throw you a party and all... no wait. That was just strange. "Pink mare with a pink mane. She throws a party for every new pony in Ponyville. It's strange that you haven't met her yet. Just show up at eight alright?" Dash says. "Ok, I'll be there. And thanks," you reply. Dash nods her head and takes to the sky with a powerful thrust of her wings, leaving a faint rainbow trail in her wake. You let out a yawn and close your front door. Instead of heading back to the living room, you trot to the second living room where your recording station was set up. This was now the recording room you decided. You sit down at the desk with all of your equipment and turn your laptop on. With a flick of your other hoof, the turntable and an MPC flickers to life as well. You insert a [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dNXMwcTAas]sample into your laptop and a gentle guitar emits. You then turn your attension to the MPD and strike one of the pads with your hoof. A strong drum beats through your headphones. You lift your other hoof and strike the machine again and again, bringing a strong beat to give the guitar some company. Next you find yourself focusing on a USB piano, playing it over and over again until it sounds perfect. * * * You finally let your eyes drift to the clock on the wall and hang your head. You had just spent around six hours in one session. It's already seven in the afternoon. Your stomach decides to let out a loud groan, just to reassure you. It would take you at least fifteen minutes to get to the middle of town, not to mention you had no idea where the venue was. A quick shower would take ten minutes and then there was food. You let out a sigh and gallop to the shower. You quickly turn the water on and yelp as the icy cold liquid hits your coat. You mentally push past the frosty water and quickly scrub yourself down. The water begins to warm up as you finish and you curse the water company. After drying your freezing flank, you trot to the kitchen and pick three apples from your refrigerator and tuck one under each wing and destroy the third with your mouth, core and all. You then head to your closet and take out a jacket. The jacket is a deep canvas green and is covered with stitched on patches and buttons. You had purchased this jacket at the start of your career and it had been through some pretty crazy stunts and hijinks. You transfer the two apples into the jacket's pockets and grab an energy drink out of the refrigerator. You then give your house one last check before leaving into the night. * * * "So let me get this straight. I take a left at the library, a left at Sugar Cube Corner, then a left at the Carousel Boutique?" you reviewed. When you arrived in town, the first thing you did was catch the first pony you could find and ask for directions the Ponyville's venue. The first pony you found however was a gray pegasus with bright yellow eyes which tended to drift in opposite directions . "Ummm... Yup!" the cheery pegasus answered. "... All right then, thank you for the help," you smiled and headed towards the library, hoping the mare was sending you in the correct direction. A few minutes later you reached the giant tree in the middle of the town and took a right, rather than three lefts. After a few more minutes of trotting in what you thought was the right direction, you reached an old looking brick building. 'Venue 047' was illuminated in bright blue letters on the side of the building and you let out a breath of relief. You didn't see anypony waiting outside and you didn't have a watch on you, so you assumed that you were late. A single gray pony with a blue Mohawk was leaning up against the building and staring off into space with a bored look on his face. Yep, that was the bouncer alright. "Yo, is this where a pony can party 'round here?" you ask as you approach the bouncer. "Name?" he yawns back at you and pops his neck. "Sam," you reply. The stallion quickly glances over a clipboard and looks back up at you. "Welcome to Ponyville, Sam," the stallion greets you and admits you entrance to the club. Inside, the venue is what you would expect. A strong beat fills the old and classy looking interior. The first thing past the entrance is a bar, a bar that you would defiantly be hitting later. Moving on there are several tables that you assumed were first come, first serve. A moderate sized dance floor is filled with ponies jumping and stomping hooves with the beat while neon lights are caught and reflected off the bouncing mass. Overhead you found a balcony with VIP seating and another bar. "Scream for me Ponyville!" you heard a familiar voice over the microphone. You turned your attention to the stage and smiled. On the turn tables was the one and only DJ P0N3, aka Vinyl Scratch. Her white coat absorbs and reflects the stage lights as her two toned blue mane swings back and forth as she bobs her head up and down. Hiding her eyes is her trademark purple shades. You didn't recognize the song she just played, must be new work. Good to hear she's still got it. "Oh hi! Are you Sam? You must be Sam, because I know everypony in Ponyville except for you and if I don't know you then you must be new in Ponyville! So welcome to Ponyville Sam! I threw this party just for you, ya know? I hope you like it because when I first saw you I thought to myself 'Wow Pinkie, that pony looks like he'd enjoy a sweet rave party'. So I noticed there was going to be a crazy party here already tonight so I asked if I could throw another party at the same time, like a double party! I thought it would be twice the fun! How about you? Do you like it? Huh? Huh? Huh?" a high pitch voice assaulted your ears over the thumping music. You turn your attention to the left and find the owner of the voice to be a bright pink pony with a darker pink mane. She had a goofy smile stretched across her face and you couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, it's really cool. Thanks... Pinkie was it?" you reply. "Yup! I'm Pinkie Pie, Ponyville's very own party pony! Nopony throws a party like Pinkie Pie and-," she yapped until a cyan blue hoof was shoved into her maw. "Ok, Pinkie. I think he gets it," Dash says and wipes the pink pony's saliva off her hoof. Pinkie just nods her head up and down and bounces back to the dance floor. "Well, she's an energetic one. Thanks Dash," you say. "Yeah, no problem. Before you ask, yes she's always like that and you'll get used to her eventually," Dash explains with a deadpanned expression. You can tell that this isn't the first time she's had to explain Pinkie's behavior. "I see," you simply reply. "Hey, you wanna join Spitfire, Soarin', and me? We got a table before they were all taken," Dash asks and motions towards a secluded table in the back of the club. Sure enough Spitfire and Soarin' are making idle chatter. Maybe Dash wasn't lying about dating the captain of the Wonderbolts. "Sure." The two of you then trot to the bar and pick up a round of drinks. As you follow Dash back to her table, the crowd suddenly erupts and shouts "Yes! Oh My Gwad!" before the loud thumping continues. You tilt your head and chuckle to yourself. "No way! Is that you Amp?" Soarin' asks as Dash and you reach the table. Well there goes your cover. Should not have worn the jacket. Defiantly should not have worn the jacket. "Soarin', I'm surprised you remember me," you answer and take a seat beside him as Dash scoots next to Spitfire and nuzzles into her neck. "Amp? As in ‘the’ DJ Amp? I thought your name was Sam?" Dash asks with a confused look on her face. "Whoops, blew it didn't I?" Soarin' whispers to you. You give him a deadpanned look in response. "Yep, we met a few years back after one of my shows. I bummed his last cigarette in trade for dinner with my crew," you explain to the two mares across the table. "You used to smoke? Soarin'!" Spitfire scolds. "Payback," you whisper to Soarin'. "Hey! I quit before I joined the Bolts. My only addiction now is sweet apple pie and there is no way I'm giving that up," Soarin' retorts causing the table to share a laugh. The atmosphere began to change as a slower and more soothing song starts to play and fill the building with gentle sounds. "Oh! I love this one! Let's go dance," Dash lights up and practically drags Spitfire out to the dance floor, leaving you with Soarin' and a table full of alcohol. "So how did you know it was me? The jacket?" you ask. "Oh yeah. My name is Amp and growing out my mane is the secret to becoming a master of disguise," Soarin' mocks. "Screw you," you laugh back. "Nice cover story by the way, my old partner in crime," Soarin' scoffs and takes a drink. "Yeah, like I was going to sell out my best bud. I'm assuming, well, hoping to Celestia you didn't tell your boss about the kind of trouble we used to get into," you laugh and lift a shot of whiskey to your lips. "My lips have been sealed, so what are you doing in a small town like Ponyville?" he asks. "I could ask you the same," you retort. "Like I had a choice. I got drug here with Spitfire who got drug here by Rainbow Dash. Like some crazy domino effect," Soarin' explains. "I see, my mother died and I inherited her house in Ponyville," you say and throw back another shot. Soarin' chokes on his drink, obviously not expecting your answer and scratches the back of his head. "Damn. Uhh... Sorry, I didn't mean...," Soarin' fumbles over his words. "No, no. You didn't know, it's alright. I've had two weeks to sulk about it, I just want to have a good time right now," you were quick to retort. You let your eyes wonder about dance floor where you spot Rainbow Dash and Spitfire. Dash is stomping her hooves, jumping up and down, shouting to the music, and losing herself in Vinyl's beat. Spitfire on the other hand looks like she's made of lead. Her body is clearly having trouble getting moving, her posture is slouched over, and she wears a fake looking smile whenever her eyes meet Dash's. "So what's up with your boss?" you ask Soarin' as he sips on his drink. "What do you mean brony?" he asks back. "Well, either she sucks at dancing or something is up," you retort. "She's just having an off day," Soarin' answers nervously and tries to focus his attention elsewhere. "C'mon, I know you know more than you're telling me. Is it Dash?" you ask. "What do you mean?" Soarin' answers your question with another question, again. Now he's asking for it. "Dash nuzzled into her when we sat down, Spitfire didn't give even a hint of a response. Look at them dancing; Spitfire might as well be nailed to the floor. Look closely when the two meet eyes, she's forcing herself to smile," you explain. Your middle name isn't perception, but you were convinced that your parents made a mistake when naming you Amplitude Tiger Lily. "I still don't see why you're not a detective or something," Soarin' laughs and finishes his first drink. "She's been having doubts," Soarin' continues. "She's starting to think she rushed into another relationship after getting blown off by some stallion. I guess she thought she'd try mares after having sour luck with a few stallions. She's afraid her feelings for Dash are forced, but doesn't want to break Dash's heart with a break up. I'm her new ranting buddy if you couldn't tell, not that I mind. We all gotta have someone to rant to, ya know?" "Yeah, that sounds like a tough situation to be in," you let out a deep breath and notice the music has stopped. "That's in for me Ponyville, Goodnight!" Vinyl exclaims hops off stage. You see her bump hooves with the ponies in the crowd and make her way over to the bar. "I'm gonna go say 'hi' to Vinyl," you tell Soarin' and leave the table as Rainbow Dash and Spitfire arrive back from the dance floor. "Jimmy Buck strait for me and Jack on the rocks for the lady here," you tell the bar colt as you approach. Vinyl scoffs on the bar stool, but doesn't turn to face you. "I'm perfectly capable of purchasing my own drinks, bub," Vinyl says and rests her head her hooves. "Good, you can buy the next round Vee," you answer and take a seat next to her. Vinyl jolts up and she lifts her shades to get a better look at you. She turns to you with a wide smile on her muzzle and softly bumps you on the shoulder with her hoof. "Amp? You let your mane grow out," Vinyl notices and laughs. "Yup, I heard it was on the rage in Canterlot," you joke back. "So how'd you like my show?" Vinyl asks proudly as the bar colt returns with your drinks. "I remember an 'Amp' being between the 'Yes' and 'Oh my gwad'," you reply and cause Vinyl to snort as she attempts to take a drink. You laugh aloud at the sight and get punched in the shoulder. "You still have one hell of a right hook I see," you comment before she hits you again. "So what brings you to Ponyville?" "Came here to settle down. A request from my better half," she answers and lifts her drink. Vinyl has a coltfriend? Teasing sense activated. "Vee has a cooooltfriend? OoooOOoooh~," you make sure to draw out long and loud. She turns her back to you and mumbles something inaudible, blushing under her white coat. "What was that?" you scoff. "...'s a mare...friend," she whispers. Teasing sense overload. "You... What? With a m-mare?" you pretend to choke out and force a shocked look on your face. "Y-yeah," she blushes. You lean back in your seat and run a hoof through your mane as you let out a loud sigh. You then lean in close to her and whisper in her ear. "Is she... hot?" You ask. Smack! Right in the kisser. "Screw you Amp! I can't believe I fell for that," she laughs in relief and lets out a deep breath while you die from lack of oxygen. "Oh man. Sorry, sorry. I totally deserved that one," you manage to apologize between bounds of laughter. "Yeah, ya did. Anyway, her name's Octavia. She's a cello player from Canterlot," Vinyl explained. "Ahh, I've heard of her. Sampled her work before for my music. Gray coat, black mane?" you clarify. "That's my mare. Your music is actually some of the little electronica I can get her to listen to. You, your dad, and Trot Yorke. I'm slowly corrupting her," Vinyl answers. "Is that right? So when do I meet her?" you ask with a devious grin. "Never. She's the jealous type, so if one of us were to slip up about our past together, we'll both be six feet under," she laughs and throws back the rest of her drink. "Well, you know I love a good brush with death once and a while," you chuckle and down your scotch. "Yeah, well, another time if you're good. So what brings you to Ponyville, huh?" she asks. "Mother died, inherited her house," you try to answer nonchalantly. If Vinyl's coat wasn't already white, you would have sworn she just went pale. "Ahhh, damn it. I'm sorry," she quickly apologizes and nervously latches onto your side, forcing you into a hug. You let out a deep sigh and wait patiently until she lets you go, fearing that if you were to return her embrace, you would break down in the middle of your welcoming party. "It's alright, you didn't know," you say. Dropping the news of your mother's death to your two best friends so soon was not what you had planned, but you would not let yourself lie to them. The quicker they knew and moved on, the quicker you would too. "I hate to leave now, but I've got to get back to Octavia. Can't leave a mare waiting y'know?" Vinyl says and hops off the barstool. "I understand, good to see you again," you reply. "We should get together sometime and catch up," Vinyl suggests and holds out a hoof to you. "Sure. Bring your mare to my place and we can chill for an evening. First house past Sweet Apple Acres," you reply and bump hooves with Vinyl. She gives you one last smile and turns to leave the club. You return to your table where Rainbow Dash is face down on the table and Soarin' is laughing his flank off. "What happened here?" you ask and take a seat next to Soarin'. "Somepony can't handle a little alcohol," Soarin' mocks as Dash pulls herself up. "'Ey, Ah can handle a... whole lot mo' foo," Dash replies and drops her head back onto the table. "Imma gonna git her home 'n' stuff, don't stay out too late Soarin'," Spitfire hiccups and drapes an unconscious Rainbow Dash over her back. Soarin' and you watch as Spitfire stumbles towards the exit and a laugh escapes your lips. "Ehh, it is getting late. We should catch up sometime though, what are you doing tomorrow?" Soarin' asks and gets up from the table. "Nothing, feel free to swing by anytime. First house past Sweet Apple Acres," you reply knowing full well that Soarin' would know where Sweet Apple Acres was at the first day of arriving in town. You stand with him and walk outside into the brisk night air. With Vinyl and Soarin' leaving, you didn't feel the need to stick around. "Sure, I'll be at Ponyville's Inn. Room 107," He states and stretches his wings. He then takes to the night sky and heads after the two drunken lovers. You let out a soft sigh and head towards home. Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.
