I Swear I Don't Have A Gun
Drugs, destruction, inappropriate gestures and smashed instruments.
It's how the average concert of the band “Nirvana” ended, followed by a “Fuck you all!” by the main singer, the famous Vinyl Scratch. Scratch made the band, having a grunge voice that some ponies believed was granted by “Emo-God”. The greasy, hedgehog maned mare one of the greatest stars of the 90's, so one would believe that she would lead a happy, successful life. However, that was far from the case.
Vinyl was a huge drug addict. She also had a very bad case of depression because of the horrid addiction. Unfortunately, that part of her personality was normally overlooked because of her huge fame. Even her own partners in music, Lyra Heartstrings and Octavia, didn't pay much attention to it. It took but one night to change their minds about it and caused them to regret their decision to ignore the condition she was in.
It was nearing the end of their biggest concert yet, and the band was in the middle of their final song, “Come As You Are”. Vinyl's pressure on her guitar was so tight it was nearly breaking the strings. It was the last 30 seconds of the song, and Nirvana knew what time it was: Wreck the fuck out of everything that's expensive time.
“Memoryyyyuh!” The mare's final word was into the microphone, delivering the beautiful, soul-crunching voice crack that everypony loved. Vinyl suddenly slammed her hoof on the wooden stage and the beautiful electric guitar began to turn into a mess of random squeaks and ear-wrenching squeals.
Vinyl, being the unstable monster that she was, leaped to the left and right of the stage with all the energy she could release from her filthy, sweaty body. The pain-filled guitar the she held sounded as though it was being raped, which is an accurate description of what Vinyl looked like she was doing to it.
The grip on her guitar increased. Soon, blood started running down the guitar and onto the floor, staining the innocent stage with Nirvana's mark. The more chaotic the distortion got, the louder the crowd's hearts pumped with excitement.
Vinyl sprang up from the filthy ground, blood and sweat riding down her arms like rapid rivers. She unstrapped the instrument from her body, grabbed it by the neck, and began to run toward the expensive speakers as Lyra and Octavia smiled in amusement at their insane friend.
WHAM!
The speaker squealed in agony as it fell backward to its untimely demise. Still connected, an almost machine gun like noise came erupting from it as Vinyl ran around the rough stage, dragging the guitar by the wire that held it into the speaker, leaving a trail of metallic blood behind her.
As the distortion started to come to an end, there was only time for one final act of destruction. Grabbing the tortured guitar by its neck once again, she decided to put the poor thing out of its misery by chucking it into the air above her with all of the energy left in her.
The final horribly discord bass riff ended as the guitar hit the ground, snapping in half easier than a small twig. Vinyl stared at it for a few seconds as it lie in the small puddle of red rock and roll blood and then proceeded to spit on it.
The crowd was so loud that it hurt Vinyl's ears. The cheered, gave inappropriate gestures and downed beer to their hearts content. Vinyl gave the famous signal to calm them down, but they kept cheering and cheering. She gave the signal again with a more frustrated face, but still they cheered.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP.” She said into the microphone violently. The crowd nearly immediately stopped cheering, awaiting what their idol had to say before she left.
“That's all, guys. My guitar's snapped in half, I'm bleedin' hoof to hoof, concerts over.” She said to the crowd. A big, depressing “aww” came from the ponies before her.
“No, no, don't give me that shit. What's important is that you had a badass time! Am I right!?” She encouragingly yelled into the microphone. The crowd's volume escalated from mute to ear-death in less than a second.
“That's right! Now, get the fuck out of here, you filthy perverts! And take my blood, sweat and tears with you!!” She screamed as she flicked her bloody hooves into the audience.
And just like that, Nirvana had vanished from the stage. But, like always, they made sure to leave the mess they made there for the custodians to weep at.
Nirvana had started to collect their things from backstage to take their leave not but ten minutes after the end of the concert. Vinyl hung against the wall alongside Lyra with a cigarette in her mouth as Octavia packed her bass. All three of them had cold rags over their shoulders to wipe off the river of sweat, and in Vinyl's case, blood, from their exhausted bodies. As Octavia began to zip up her case, she turned to Vinyl.
“Vinyl... do you think... you maybe you went a tad off the deep end tonight? You were a little... crazier than usual.” She asked. Vinyl pulled the cigarette out of her mouth with her magic and slowly puffed a small cloud of smoke.
“Whaddya mean? I'm surprised you didn't go crazy yourself. I can understand Lyra cause she's stuck to the fuckin' seat, but you were so... calm, especially for our biggest crowd.” She responded.
“Yeah, well... you were bleeding down your whole arm and you didn't even seem to care!” Octavia argued.
“Octy,” Vinyl started, trying to think of what to say. “...I don't give a shit. I've been blessed with life, and dammit I do what I wanna do with it, got it!?”
Octavia flinched at Vinyl's snappy attitude. “Alright, damn, sorry. No need to flip a table.”
“I'm worried about you, Vinyl. Something's bothering you, and you best tell us what it is.” Lyra demanded the white unicorn. Vinyl sighed rather heavily.
“Life. You... wouldn't understand.” Vinyl answered. “Just... let's blow this shitstand, alright?”
Octavia gave Vinyl a worried look, then proceeded to whirl her bass onto her back.
The hours of night passed as they explored the foreign city of Manehatten. It was incredible that their fame had reached even the depths of the biggest city in Equestria. Octavia and Lyra, drunk off of their own excitement, ran about the black city, lights flashing everywhere. Ponies were pointing and shouting at them “Oh my Celestia! Nirvana!”, “Nirvana! That's Nirvana!”, and “Is that Nirvana!?”. The bassist and drummer were drowning and laughing in their own golden glory.
Vinyl, on the other hoof, stood back in the shadows, not even glancing at her sweet fame. Rather, she stood against the wall with dried blood on her hooves with a cigarette in her mouth and a beer sticking out of her saddlebag. Whenever her band partners asked why she didn't join in the fame and fortune, she would always respond with one quote, “Rather be dead than cool”. The band worried about this quote, as she was a “proud owner” of many guns, and sometimes, Octavia thought she witnessed the outline of a gun in her saddlebag. That included tonight, as well.
After about four hours of getting drunk, crazy, and having a blast, they began to head off to their hotel. Octavia and Lyra were laughing their flanks off, Lyra's mane greasily soaked with a strong, brown liquid.
“I can't fuckin' believe you poured the rest of your beer on my head! That was cold, giiiirl!” Lyra said as she tripped to the left and hiccuped.
“You tried to kiss me, what was I suppose to do?” Octavia responded, giggling so hard it hurt her lungs.
Vinyl didn't even crack a smile and continued to mosey behind the two drunk, filthy mares, staring at the ground. Her hooves were still rather red, and she refused to wash them while the band was exploring the gigantic light maze of a city.
The sound faded for Vinyl as she looked to the past to remember that dreadful day that scarred her eight year old mind, and made her the glorious monster she was today. Twenty years ago, at around midnight, young Vinyl awoke from her bed as the sound of rage hit her ears from downstairs. Putting on her rogue-mode, she sneaked downstairs to hear the words of her arguing mother and father more clearly.
It was the first time she saw smoke out of a pony's mouth, the first time she smelled the scent of alcohol, and the first time her innocent ears heard swearing. Her mind started to overload, not knowing the situation at hand, and she ran back up the stairs in fear. She jumped in her bed and screamed into her pillow, muffling the sound as much as she could. Tears streamed from her eyes for nights due to frustration of unable to figure out what her mother and father had been doing. Two weeks after she had heard the argument, her father vanished, and he hasn't returned to this day.
At the young age of twelve, Vinyl was introduced to drugs to kill the pain of a broken mind. Three years after that, she dropped out of school and began to drink to drain her thoughts. Her mind was corrupted to its fullest, and Vinyl looked back on it every night, consuming more drugs and alcohol the more she thought about it.
Her wretched thoughts were interrupted by the screaming of a familiar voice. Flinching her head up, Octavia had her head tilted, a worried face glued on it.
“Vinyl, you stood there for almost a minute, are you okay!?” She asked in a rush of words.
“... Ye... Yeah. I'm good. Just had a... bad flashback. Let's go. Where's the hotel?” Vinyl asked, her eyes barely open.
“We're in front of it. That's what I've been screaming at you!” Octavia responded.
“....Oh.” Vinyl said as she rolled her dead eyes. “You guys mind if I get my own room tonight? I gotta... umm... talk to my mother about something... kinda private.”
Octavia and Lyra looked at each other with skeptical faces. They knew Vinyl had relationship problems with her mother and called her every now and again, but tonight, she was especially off. Octavia didn't want to say no, but if she did, she knew she would get into an unnecessary argument that she would lose.
“Ehhh.... Ummm.... I... I guess so. Just... make it next to ours, okay?”
“Fine by me. You ordered the room by phone, right?”
“Yeah, nearly booked, but hell they made way for Nirvana when they called!” Octavia joked happily.
“...Heh.” Vinyl smirked. “Let's get it going, then. I'm beat as all hell.”
It was the last time that she would smile in her life. Depression had consumed her completely, and there was no more ways to escape it.
Vinyl's heart began to beat fast as they headed closer to their rooms. It felt as though she was being cut by paper from all over inside. Every step was one step closer to Hell. Every sound she heard, every clop of a hoof she heard was maddening to her ears. She was insane, and she knew it.
She started to get dizzy as the band stopped in front of a door. She almost felt as though she would faint on the floor.
“This is our room. Come get us if you need anything. Your room is right over there, across the hall.” Octavia pointed as Lyra's drunk ass tried (and failed) to fit the key in the hole of the door.
“Alright. I guess... I'll see you guys in a bit.” Vinyl said, finally poking her head up to par with Octavia's for the first time in three hours.
As Vinyl turned to go to her room, Octavia halted her.
“Wait!” She shouted. Vinyl turned her head, but her body remained still. Octavia wanted to say something, but she just didn't have the courage to tell her. Then, after stuttering, she came up with something else on her mind. “... Could ya please clean up for tomorrow? Please?”
“... Sure. I'll... clean up.” She said, walking over to her room. She quickly opened the door, looking back to see two dumb, drunk mares failing to open a door with a key.
The door slammed behind Vinyl as she threw her saddlebag off and onto the ground with extreme force. The bag's buttons became undone and it erupted small objects, which included a beer, some drugs, some more drugs, and a small gun.
Vinyl stared at the gun like a tiger staring down a rabbit. She exploded a loud, long, drawn-out sigh from her mouth while she dragged herself slowly to the bathroom. Turning on the light, she walked over and looked at herself in the mirror.
She couldn't see herself. She was blinded by misery and confusion, as well as her mane. Vinyl Scratch had completely vanished from that body, leaving it's uselessness to rot and live horridly for the rest of its days on the wretched planet.
She was mad. Not because of the depression, but because she had failed. She had failed to find out what happened to her life, making a stinging feel hit her dead heart. She couldn't even see her own eyes, but she could see the riding down her face, killing her soul once and for all.
All of a sudden, she smiled. A smile with no happiness, but yet all the happiness and satisfaction she had hoped for. She walked out of the bathroom, head high and grabbed a pencil and paper sitting on the floor in the mess that exploded from her saddlebag.
Since she dropped out of freshman highschool, her language and hand writing, even for a unicorn, was very poor, but barely legible. Then, of all things, she started to sing. She started to sing very softly.
“I'm not that dumb... but I can pretend...” She started. She turned around and headed toward the gun that lie on the floor, tears still running down her face.
“The sun is... gone... but I have a light...” Her voice mildly cracked as she stopped in front of the gun. Vinyl slowly started to lift it with her magic.
“The day is... done... but I'm... having... fun.” She began to stutter. She was shaking, her heart pumping the fastest it ever had. She had lifted the gun to the side of her head. Everything was going white.
“I... think I'm dumb...” She swallowed harshly before finishing her last verse.
“Maybe just....” It was on the tip of her tongue. She knew she had to say it, or life would just get more miserable. She then smiled in sincere happiness for the last time in her life. She was finally satisfied with her life.
“...Happy.”
And just like that, the future of the 90's music was tossed out of the window of one of the most brilliant minds in the world. The head of everypony's favorite type of music lie dead on the floor, a gun next to her hoof and blood spilling from her head. Many tears would be had by her actions, but she knew that if she wouldn't do this now, she would only do it later in her torturous life.
Slamming on the hotel door was suddenly heard, but yet not heard. Octavia and Lyra were slamming the door, screaming their lungs dry.
“VINYYYYL!!!!” They yelled as they continued to beat the wooden door.
“I... I'm going to get help! Keep trying to get in!” Lyra said as she raced off, screaming for assistance.
Octavia pounded and pounded, but couldn't get through. She looked back to see her bass in its case and rolled her eyes, sighing.
She wrecked the door with a single slam of her bass, creating a hole big enough for her to fit through. When she leaped through the door, she gasped. She was staring at the bloody corpse of her best friend and partner on the floor. She didn't move, nor breakdown sobbing, but lightly started to tear up, knowing that it was her fault for letting her die like this.
The room was silent. There were no sirens, no Lyra calling for help, no pony coming to help, just her and Vinyl, or at least what was left of the poor mare.
She then saw in the mess beside Vinyl's body a piece of paper on top of some kind of object. She felt ashamed to get any closer to the mare, but she had to. She knew Vinyl wrote it for her and if she was still alive, she would want her to read it.
Ungracefully walking over to the note, she picked it up and began to read it.
“dear octavia,
I know my spelling and grammer isn't that good, but I hope you can still read this. Don't be sad that Im gone. Be happy! I'm finaly happy after all these years! There's no point in living if all you do is suffer, so I quit. I'll see you on the other side, my friend!
Vinyl scratch”
Octavia closed her eyes and clutched the piece of paper in her hooves as hard as she could. When she opened her eyes, she saw just what the piece of paper had been sitting on. It was an object Vinyl told them never to open, an object that she carried everywhere. Octavia actually had never seen it before, but knew what it was the moment she saw it. She smiled at it, and left it on the ground, next to Vinyl's lifeless body.
What was on the ground? It was Vinyl's special, unique, beautiful, one-of-a-kind...
Author's Note
I understand Kurt killed himself in his garage, but I didn't want it to feel like you can go research it and get the same story.
