Cure for Pain

“Rarity?” I asked the white-coated tailor hemming my tuxedo. It was the day prior to the Gala, and Coleton and I were at Rarity’s boutique. She was frantically attempting to get everyone’s attire perfect for the social gathering. Coleton was standing by the door, tapping his foot impatiently waiting for my tux to be done. “Yes, darling?” She asked, not looking up from her hem.

“Why do you think she invited me and Coleton to the Gala? She’s only known me for a week!” I asked inquisitively. She laughed. “Probably because you took care of Twilight and Pinkie while they were with you on Earth! If you two hadn’t been so hospitable, who knows what would have happened to them?”

Coleton, from the door, yelled, “HE LET PINKIE GET DRUNK!” Rarity looked at me confused. “What?” I shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. Anyway…” I said, trying to change the subject before I got killed. “Why do you figure she invited my band to play? It’s not like we’re all that well known.”

She looked up from what she was doing. “Octavia plays cello for her symphony. She probably invited Octavia to play during the dance, and since she had a band that was as skilled as yours is, she wanted you to have a chance to get well known. The princess thinks very in-depth about things of that nature.”

Woah. I didn’t know Octavia played cello for such a high-class and regal purpose, but looking back on the first “Gala” episode of MLP, I could remember Pinkie messing with her during her "musical number" while Octavia played the cello with the band. I guess I hadn’t seen the first season in such a long time, I couldn’t remember.

“Well…” Coleton started. “She didn’t have to invite us. The amount of high class ponies to normal average ones is staggering, and neither Walker nor I enjoy the company of snobs.” Rarity simply laughed, but it seemed forced. “Coleton, there are no snobs at the Gala. How foolish!” He shot me a look, and I immediately knew what he was going to do. I begged him to not do it, but he kept walking until he was mere feet from Rarity.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, getting mere inches from Rarity’s ear. “What about Blueblood?” Oh shit. He actually said it.

“Sorry about that. I must admit it wasn’t very ladylike.” Rarity said, preparing an ice-pack for Coleton’s now swollen forehead. She had finished my attire, and was moving on to Coleton. I had been in hysterics for the past five minutes at what Rarity did, but as soon as she started hemming his shirt, he gave me a menacing look that shut me up pretty quick.

“Alright.” Twilight said, going over the schedule for the Gala. It was now the day of the Gala, and Octavia and I had spent the entire morning loading and unloading band equipment. I must admit that as a drummer, the cello is one HEAVY instrument.

“First, we will depart the Ponyville Train Depot at twelve. We will arrive at Canterlot at five, where we will assist wherever needed. The Alicorns will set up and do a soundcheck until the Gala starts, and then they will open the Gala with a thirty minute set. Then we can do whatever we want until eleven, where we will board the train and get back to Ponyville at four in the morning. Understand?”

We all nodded solemnly in agreement and departed to the Train Depot. I put my CDs into my portable CD player and listened to the music with headphones until we arrived at Canterlot. Octavia and I took the instruments and set them up in the ballroom. The tedious processes of setting up and sound checking were processes I was very familiar with, and it wasn’t long before our only responsibility (other than actually playing) was done. I went to the bar to get a drink and found Coleton drinking too. I sat next to him. “I guess we have the same idea, huh?” I said, ordering a sweet cider. He laughed. “If I have to deal with these tightasses, I’m going to be blitzed while I do it.”

After a couple of hours and two ciders, I returned to the stage to play. As the ballroom filled with ponies of all kinds, we played. The energy coming from our band was amazing. Octavia and I laid down a solid rhythm, and the guitarist and singer coated it with a sweet-sounding melody. If our band was a cake, Octavia and I would be the cake itself, and the guitarist and singer would be the sweet, creamy icing.

After the finale, a song I taught the band called “No One Knows” by Queens of the Stone Age, applause roared through the ballroom. Our music had turned a regal, sophisticated group of high class ponies into a group of anarchy-filled beasts, and we were damn proud of it.

As I stepped off of the stage, Octavia came up and hugged me. It was obviously just a “nice job” hug, but it was a hug nonetheless. She then joined her orchestra in the garden to play sweet, calm classical music. I didn’t have anything planned, so I decided to go see the princess and thank her for everything she did to help me in Ponyville.

When I got to Celestia, with Twilight by her side, another pony, with a white coat and a blonde mane, was whining to Luna and Celestia in a tone resembly a four year old having a temper tantrum. “They were loud, they were obnoxious, and they turned everypony into maniacs! I request that you banish them immediately!” before I could speak my mind, I was interrupted by Luna’s laughing. It was a sincere laugh, but it sounded like it was spiked with hurt. “So you think that my sister…” she said through tears of laughter, “should banish a group of ponies for just playing amazing music , while she banished me to the moon for a thousand years for trying to overthrow her? IT WAS JUST MUSIC!” She had calmed down significantly, but was still stifling her laughter. Celestia took hold of the conversation. “Besides, Blueblood, everyone enjoyed the show. You’re the only complaint I have; everyone else I have seen complimented the band, saying they were a good way to open the Gala! Respectfully, I decline the request.”

At this, Blueblood walked away, his face red with embarrassment and anger, and stormed away. At least he did until he saw me, and walked over to me. “My name is Blueblood,” he said very pompously. “Of course, you already knew that. Pleasure to meet you.” I gave him a grimace. “The pleasure’s all yours.” I said before going to the bar to continue my drinking.

One hour and two ciders later, I walked out with Coleton into the garden. The orchestra had a planned break for about thirty minutes, and judging by the lack of music in the garden, I assumed it was under way. As I walked with Coleton, I saw Blueblood with his group of acquaintances by the terrace. I decided to walk by and eavesdrop. “They were horrible!” he said, sipping a glass of some unidentifiable liquid. “The singer sang out of tune, the guitarist made so many mistakes it was scary, and the rhythm…” he said, looking me in the eyes, “was so messed up, it made me question the skill of the drummer.” His friends laughed at his words, and I felt my face turning red. But he said the rhythm… that meant he insulted me and the bassist, which was Octavia. Oh, he was going to pay. As I stormed to the ballroom, Coleton grabbed my shoulder. “What are you doing?” I simply shook him off. “Nothing of your concern. Now leave me alone.” I said, attempting to walk back into the ballroom. He was persistent, though. “Just don’t do anything you’re going to regret.” He said with a cautionary tone.

I simply grinned a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, Coleton.” I said, walking away. “I’m not going to regret it.”

I woke up the next morning in a haze. My head was killing me, painful light was streaming through an open window, and wherever I was smelled like breakfast. I looked around to see that I was, in fact, back at the library. Apparently, Twilight had a “guest room” that Coleton had been sleeping in for the past week that she kindly refrained from telling me. Thanks a lot, Twi.

Anyways, I half-walked, half-stumbled down the stairs to greet a busy Twilight, attending to her studies as was usual every morning. As I passed her study, she looked up with a grin. “Look who’s finally up.” She said mischievously.

“Wait…” Thoughts of the night prior flooded my mind so fast, I had to sit down to process it all. Last thing I remembered was walking to the stage after Blueblood insulted me, and… what happened?

“What happened last night?” I asked Twilight.  “I remembered walking to the stage to get something, and that was it.” Before Twilight could respond, however, a certain pegasus waltzed into the room with a grin the size of the Eiffel Tower.

“Well…” Coleton started. “You walked to your luggage bag on stage get some album that I later recognized as Generic Flipper by Flipper. You then proceeded to request that the DJ play track nine, which was “Sex Bomb.” You took the microphone, and said, ‘This is dedicated to Prince Blueblood, the pompous asshole.’ You then walked off stage and let the music play. Loudly. It was a sight to behold. Everyone in the room had to sit through eight minutes of pure shitty grunge, Blueblood was having an aneurysm in the middle of the dance floor, and you were off getting drunk. VERY drunk.”

I grimaced at his last statement. I’m a lightweight, so adding profuse amounts of alcohol to my system usually means a good time for me and entertainment for everyone else.

He continued. “I don’t know why, but Pinkie kept buying you drinks. Pure shots, too. Pure fermented apple cider. You eventually stopped on shot number… thirteen. You ended up on top of the stage singing “Do Not Go Quietly Unto Your Grave” by Morphine and falling off, knocking yourself out in the process.

“And here you are seven hours later in Twilight’s library with a splitting headache and a party reputation all throughout Canterlot.” He said. I sighed. “Fuck…” A thought popped into my head.  “Wait… why did Pinkie keep getting me drunk?”

Twilight smiled. “I think this’ll answer your question.” She held out a short piece of parchment. I grabbed it and read aloud.

“Hey Walker. I know that you probably have a lot of things to do to clean your name around Equestria, but just know… revenge is a dish best serve cold. Or a DRINK best served cold. Filled with apples and alcohol. I got you good, didn’t I? What revenge!

”Your friend, Pinkie Pie.”

NOW it made sense. “So Pinkie got back at me for getting her drunk a couple of weeks ago at the bar, and now I’ve got an Andrew W.K. reputation to work off because of her? Thanks a lot, you pink…”

I then proceeded to say things that, in hindsight, I’m not so proud of. About Pinkie Pie. When my hangover-driven tirade ended, I settled down on the couch. Spike got me a cup of coffee and some cereal. He was actually a nice guy.

“Thanks, man.” I said, trying to chuckle. Every time I laughed, shots of pain streaked throughout my entire body from either the hangover, the impact I had on the fall, or both. So I simply groaned and ate.

“So… I figure I should call Octavia and the rest of the band and see if they heard of me.” I said with finality. Everybody simply laughed. “Oh they know what you did. Octavia burst into hysterics the second she saw you.”

“That’s… fucking… great…” I said, drinking my coffee. That would be fun to explain.