The Ponyville streets had been paved, and the houses began to get bigger. Ponies began to flock to Ponyville to be protected by the Elements of Harmony. The little city was not so little anymore, but the pony folk were still kind as ever. The spreading city had become a rather popular place for tourism. It was a new city and no longer going back to the little town as it once was. Along these dark streets walked a rather orange pony, a pony without care, and a pony always in thought. It was late, and all was peaceful. The only thing that wasn't peaceful was this ponies thoughts. He kept running into people selling 'items' along the street, and tripping over people with the same luck as he is having. He kept his business his own, and just ignored the 'fuck you' they kept throwing at him.
'Orange doesn't rhyme with much.' Orange Swirl thought as he was contemplating his name after a day of searching for jobs around Ponyville. He came up empty hoofed again, which didn’t mind too bad. Orange Swirl was calmly walking along the road to the Ponyville apartments. He had his ear buds in playing Modest Mouse’s Bankrupt on Selling. He curses this band for making him want to write. A creative writing degree is kind of useless when you are surrounded by so many other ponies getting doctorates and degrees that will actually propel them forward in life. Swirl didn’t care however; his writing was good enough for him, so screw the publishing companies for turning down his poetry series.
He flipped his black mane out of his face, he needed a mane cut something awful. He was getting shaggy, and his black tail was not much different. He took his last drag off his cigarette and stamped it out with his hoof. He was heading back home to an apartment complex. Not a bad place and it was quiet until they had parties. Luckily it has very few tenants living around him, so they can be as loud as they like.
His slow pace was a signal of him in deep thought. The cool night air felt good on his rounded face, and even helped him relax. He couldn't wait to toke, his roommate Radio Jammin’, or Turntabl3 Delux3, was probably already smoking a joint. Swirl has known the guy since his days spent at the University of Manehatten, where they met on the elevator ride up to their room. By luck they were roommates, and it hasn't really changed since. Swirl’s taste in music expanded a whole lot since meeting the guy. He is a musical pony, without any talent to make it. He is crazy good at making playlists, and knows quite a bit of music trivia. His cutie mark was headphones after all. Not to mention the zebra can out smoke anypony, the benefits of being from Jamareca.
‘Crazy pot smoking Zebra,’ Swirl laughed at the thought. He had been smoking heavily ever since he met that Zebra. He loved it, and even better that it relieved himself of his past.
Swirl then reminded himself of home as he approached the front gates of the apartments. He remembers his father’s ice cream parlor in the heart of Manehattan, and how he had earned his cutie mark by mixing the sherbet flavors and selling them to customers. The happy looks on the kids’ faces made Swirl happy as he stood behind the counter watching them eat. Suddenly there was a poof and on his pale orange flank had appeared a literal orange swirl. It amazed him how things work out sometimes. Somehow he wants to get back into ice cream making, but isn’t exactly sure how. He finally made it to his apartment; he fumbled around in his saddle bag for his key and pulled it out with his teeth. He then unlocked the door and it swung open. He went inside the door, closed it, and locked it. He was always paranoid, even in a town of nice pony folk. It was his first day here, and somehow no one recognized him. He turned around to see Radio playing Call of Cutie: Black Clops 2. He went over and sunk into the captain’s chair next to Radio.
"Booyakasha! That's where your head used to be mon!" He looked up at Swirl and gave him a smile. "Hey what's up my brotha. I got some dope shit all rolled up for ya. They call it Pegasi Delight, it's strong even for me.” Radio’s accent was very minimal now that he has been living in Equestria for five years. It was occasionally noticeable when he spoke, but not too often. Radio took a huge hit off a blunt of ridiculous size. His white shutter shades were on. Swirl picked up the premade joint; he lit it up and took a hit.
"Damn, that is some smooth shit." Radio just nodded in agreement. Swirl looked over at him. "How are you able to play in those things?"
"What my bling? It's not about seeing, you can feel where the next head will pop up. I am one with the game. Wait quiet, I can feel a disturbance in the force…” On the screen he was aiming at a wall when someone popped up. “Booyakasha!" Delux3 just got another headshot and was now laughing maniacally. Swirl couldn't help but start smiling as he took another drag off his joint.
“So, what exactly are we doing tonight? It is Friday after all.” Swirl asked.
“Well, I have a girl coming over. I’ve known her for a while now. You probably know her as Vinyl Scratch.” He smiled at Swirl, who gave him an ‘are you serious look.’
“You know that pony? She is getting big dude.” Swirl looked back at the game, and Radio smoothed out the dreads in his mane. Swirl took a hit, he already knew the shit was going to be strong.
“Well, when she is the only girl who stays as high as me mon, it’s hard not to know her.” He grinned and got another headshot. Swirl recalled the many adventures and friends of Radio, but he never mentioned her once before.
“How is it you never told me that before?” Swirl insisted
“Because, there are many things we forget. I probably mentioned her, and you just weren’t paying attention.” Radio went back to his game, with the joint hanging out of his mouth.
“How is it that I would forget that you were friends with a fucking celebrity? That seems like some shocking information.” Swirl was sure he hadn’t told him before.
“Whatever mon.” Radio just waved Swirl off in a playful manner. Neither one really cared who was right; it’s just nice for Swirl to know that they have a guest of V.I.P status coming to visit. Swirl had to give it to Radio. The zebra knew his shit when it comes to befriending mares. Almost with the perfect timing, there was a knock on the door.
"Well, speak of the devil.” Swirl slowly stood up, the full effect of the weed has yet to really hit him, but it was slowly seeping into his system. He trotted over to the door and unlocked it, at the door stood the famous DJ- Pon3.
“Scratch! How’s it hangin’?” Radio yelled over his shoulder, he got out of his chair with the game still playing to go give Vinyl a hug. Swirl shut the door behind her, and turned around. He looked her up and down, because Swirl always had to inspect intruders, even if they were on the rise to fame.
“Nothing much Radio, who’s your friend here?” She gave a nod and smile towards Swirl.
“Oh, um, my name is Orange Swirl.” Swirl gave her a big smile. Vinyl then got a little closer.
“Geez man, have a hard on or something?” She laughed, “Na, I’m just joshing. Nice ta meet you. Say, is that some green I smell?” She looked back over at Radio who was grinning ear to ear with his light grey face.
“You bet that’s some green you smell.” Radio laughed “May we offer you some?” He started rolling a joint for Vinyl without a response.
“Well, duh, that’s why I asked.” Her focus switched back to Swirl “So, what’s your story?”
“I don’t have one yet. I’m still making it.” He gave the most honest answer he could. Swirl didn’t have aspirations to do much of anything. After getting his dreams crushed by publishing companies, his parents, and himself, he lost track of who he was along the way. Writing was supposed to be his life, and somehow he screwed that up.
“Well don’t worry Swirly, you’ll write your story.” Vinyl gave him a reassuring smile for her words of encouragement. Not that they really helped the psyche or mood Swirl was in.
Radio finished the joint and handed it to Vinyl. She put it up to her mouth and moved her sunglasses to the top of her head. She turned back to Swirl.
“You gonna light me up?” Swirl had begun to be put off a little. He couldn’t figure out whether she was being playful or just a demanding bitch. He must have looked kind of confused because Vinyl raised an eyebrow at him and smirked.
“Yea, I got one right here.” Swirl grabbed his lighter off the table, and lit it up for vinyl to puff off of.
“By the way, don’t take me seriously. I tease a lot.” Vinyl gave him a quick wink. “Plus you seem cool enough by me.” She gave him a smile.
“Glad to know, cause you were definitely giving some bad vibes.” Swirl was bad about speaking his mind, especially in such a small group of friends. He still made friends even though he was a blunt asshole.
“Na, it’s cool man. Sorry I guess I could tone it down a bit.” Vinyl turned to Radio. “So, what have you been doing?”
“I’ve been talkin’ on the radio. It’s steady, and I am the only one willing to stay up so late. Plus it’s easy to be high and work as a late night D.J.” Radio laughed at his own joke, Swirl and Vinyl chuckled because it was the truth.
“Glad to hear not much has changed” she grinned. “Well, what the buck is there to do around here.”
Swirl interjected “Not much, it’s pretty boring.” He made his way back to his captain’s chair, and Radio sat back in his chair. Vinyl went and sat down on the couch to the right of the chairs. It was long, grey, and worn in. It was old, but the best couch to just phase out on. Especially when listening to music blazed up.
Vinyl was puffing down the joint pretty fast. Swirl never understood the fascination with finishing weed so fast. He was just getting to his third hit off his joint. This stuff was stronger than what Swirl was used to, because he had begun to feel like he was buzzing.
Swirl was getting to his sixth hit when Vinyl had already finished her joint. She was jamming to imaginary music in her head, when she got a kind of weird look on her face. She then tapped on Swirl’s neck, he then turned to look at her. She looked him dead in the eyes.
“I was wondering what your favorite music is?” Vinyl asked a sort of obvious question. After all Swirl’s roommate was a radio D.J.
“Oh, a little bit of everything really. Music has become the second part of my life.” Swirl spun around in his captain’s chair. It was black chair that swiveled. It sat pretty low to the ground and was sectioned. It was worn, and had cracks in the fake leather. It was Swirls chair, and it was more than comfortable for being street side pick-up.
“Well, what is your favorite bands?” Vinyl pressed on with her questions.
“Oh, I guess my number one favorite has to be Modest Mouse. They inspired me to start writing.”
“Cool! I never would have guessed that about you. You seem more of the laid back type, one who is at peace all the time for no reason.”
“Well, I guess I am to a certain degree.” Swirl felt too honest sometimes, but it didn’t help that he just finished his joint, and the buzz was becoming stronger. “To be honest my life was pretty depressing until recently. This is literally my first day to go into Ponyville. I've stayed holed up here for months trying to write out a story.” Swirl knew that weed also helped his mood.
“Oh, well welcome. I’ve been here maybe once or twice.” She said in a joking tone. Her eyes had become a little yellow and bloodshot, a sign that she was buzzing.
“Thanks.” Swirl didn’t really know what else to say.
“So, how did you get here? Was it like accident?” Vinyl sat up a little.
“Well, yea sort of. I didn’t really know where to go, especially since my parents kicked me out after college. Cool thing is Jammin' here is cool enough to put up with me for a while.” Swirl had begun to get a little choked up.
"I need a smokin' buddy, mon." Radio said over his shoulder, never breaking concentration with his game.
“Oh man, bummer. Well I am glad to hear Radio here can put up with ya.” Vinyl gave Swirl a smile, but Swirl didn't return it. He felt so abandoned by his parents. He didn't care though, he was feeling good right now.
“I don’t know, they seemed really happy to see me back from college.” Hedidn't feel sad to tell about his past, because it was the past.
“Wow, that’s pretty harsh of your parents. They know it’s legal right?” Vinyl gave him a weird look.
“Well, yea they know it’s legal, even though that was recently done. Back then it wasn’t that way. A drug to self destruction is what they claimed. Some shit went down, and they told me to leave, that was that.” Swirl gave her a look to reassure her that he was telling the truth.
“Shit, that’s pretty heavy stuff.” Vinyl seemed to be affected by his story.
"I can tell ya more, you seem pretty interested." Vinyl gave him a nod.
Author's Note
Well, that's my self insert, I figure I'd give it a shot. I hope this works out.
Manhatten eight years ago-
It was a hot day, the fillies were running up and down the street, and a younger Orange Swirl was mixing a new batch of ice cream in his father’s ice cream parlor. It was named ‘Lick This’ because Swirl’s father was a tremendous addict for comedy. He went to every comedian to come into town, while also doing shows here. It was good at raising money, and he only hosted amateur comedians. Tonight was no exception, and they had a familiar somepony named Pinkie Pie coming in tonight. She was a regular, and somehow in her childish antics on stage had become rather popular with the pony folk.
Swirl was just beginning high school and was a social recluse. He had very few friends, and even worse he was going to a school that none of his other friends went to. He wasn’t bothered by any of that, because he was going to turn his life around during High School, so he thought. Swirl was addicted to video games ever since he was a young colt. He watched his older brother play on the Coltari 64, and he enjoyed it so much.
Now Swirl’s brother is about to move away to Canterlot to get a degree. Swirl’s brother wanted to be an engineer, and Swirl was stuck here making ice cream and sherbet. He was jealous, upset, and began to miss him already. He hadn't even moved yet, but he knew things would never be the same.
Swirl was finishing with the batch of regular ice cream and stuck it in the freezer. He then got out all the juices and things necessary for the family secret sherbet. The real secret was the addition of actual orange juice straight from the ritzy Orange family in Manehatten. It also helped that there really wasn’t anything added, it was all a straight formula for making sherbet.
“Swirl!” His concentration was broken and he accidently spilled too much vanilla in this batch. He gave sigh, and hated the fact he was a perfectionist when it came to step by step instructions.
“Yea dad!?” Swirl yelled out. He continued to mix the concoction. There was a long pause, and Swirl stopped mixing.
“Swirl! I called you once!” Swirl sighed and trotted back into the back. His father was sitting at the table reading his newspaper. The sun was peeking through the window illuminating the fake plastic fruit in the middle of the checkered table, apples and oranges. The kitchen was a light blue, with dark blue stripes, resembling a sort of cheap wallpaper. He trotted over the white tiled floor to the table.
“Yes dad?” Swirl pulled up a chair, and sat down to the left of his dad.
“What are your plans for today?” His father put his newspaper down. He had a steak of grey running through his faded brown mane. He was orange like Swirl, but instead of black he had faded brown hair instead of the black inherited from his mother. He had on glasses and a paper held up in front of him. The giant white sink behind him was full of dishes, which Swirl knew later he would have to clean.
“Well, I was going to finish work and just stay up in my room to write or something.” Swirl’s father gave him a disapproving look.
“You need to be downstairs to help us tonight. This electrical stuff is hard to wire up, and we need your help.” Swirl gave out a small sigh. He reluctantly nodded, and started to get up.
“Hey, wait a sec.” Swirl looked at his dad. “You said you were writing?” Swirl quickly turned red, and nodded. He didn’t mean to tell his father that. “Do you mind if I see what you are writing?” Swirl didn’t want people to see his writing. It wasn’t very good, plus he didn’t even get to fix the mistakes.
“Actually, I really don’t like people reading it.” His father tussled his hair.
“Come on son, I’m your dad, it won’t change my opinion of you.” He gave Swirl a smile. Swirl hopped out of his chair. Swirl passed the fridge into a doorless door frame to the set of stairs that led up to his families flat. They owned the first two floors of this building, it was kind of run down on the outside, but Swirl’s family made sure to keep everything tidy inside. It was a quick climb up to the living portion of their parlor. It had its own front door, which was unlocked for the most part. He opened the brown colored door and trotted on through. Their flat was pretty bland. White walls that seemed colorless, dingy brown and white tile that met with hard wood floors at every room, and the furniture was lacking the sheen they used to hold. There was a rather small kitchen area, and hardly used. Only liquor was being held in the fridge. There was a cheap table stuffed in the corner of the kitchen and right next to it was a door to a balcony. It faced beautiful brick, which echoed sound to anyone standing in front of it. Often the sound of sexual perverts and gunshots tended to wake Swirl up late at night. He was a homebody and didn’t get out much. Even in the summer.
He stepped into his room and went to retrieve his poetry from his antique desk. It was made from apple trees, and had been given to his family by the Oranges. He looked around his messy room; it was mostly paper and school work. He hadn’t cleaned it up since the week before finals. His blue walls that relaxed him, his overly broke in handed down bed, and his posters of his favorite bands, all made up his room to be a writing haven. He always found inspiration, whether he was listening to Rolling Stones to his newly acquired band Modest Mouse. Swirl always found time to pursue his hobby of music and writing. His aspirations of becoming an architect were slowly slipping away as he soon realized he can describe it better than he can draw. As he left his room, he instinctively shut his door. He quickly made his way back downstairs with the folder in between his teeth. He set it on the table, and his father immediately picked it up. He pulled out one of Swirl’s poems.
54
Do nothing
Be Nothing
Waste away
Or Live
Be Alive
And Waste away
Swirl’s father just kind of skimmed over the poems, as if he was in deep thought. He seemed a little disappointed, or at least it seemed that way to Swirl.
“This kind of concerns me Swirl.” His father gave him a frown. “Are you feeling okay?” Swirl wasn’t surprised he asked that question, and in his honesty, he didn’t want to reply. So long has he wanted to tell someone that he wasn’t okay, but he never really knew why. His trust in his father, was rather slim, and he never felt safe speaking his mind around him. Swirl accidently bumped the table as he shifted to find comfortability.
“Yea, I’m fine.” Swirl just kind of shrugged while saying that. He looked his father in the eyes, “It’s just writing after all.” He sort of gave a grin, he was finally figuring out how to lie properly, and get away with it. His father was one of the hardest guys to lie to, because he literally would call anyone out on bullshit.
“Okay, well this actually is pretty good. Keep it up… at night so you can at least go outside every once in a while.” His father gave him a smile and a pat on the back. Swirl got up to continue mixing the sherbet, although he just wanted to start over cause he screwed it up.
He got back up and went over to their personal fridge to pull out a Dr. Palomino, and with the refreshing sound of opening it up, he took a sip, and suddenly had an epiphany. He looked over at his dad.
“Hey dad?” His dad put his paper down again, and looked at him. “Is there anyway, maybe one day I could get on stage and do my poetry?” His dad sat back for a second as if he were in deep thought. He gave a sigh and looked back up at Swirl.
“No, this isn’t some jive place for hipsters to speak nonsensical poetry on my stage. It’s just not interesting enough to actually act out. Plus people want comedy, not a slice of life.” Swirl felt a little crushed as his dad simply went back to reading the paper. Swirl put his drink back in the fridge after sealing it up, and the glare off the over polished fake fruit hit him in the eye. He then went back into the parlor, and his sherbet had melted.
“Well, shit…” He quietly said to himself. He would have to put it back in the freezer to get its consistency back, and spend extra time whipping it enough to not look like frozen orange cream soda. He lifted it up and put it back inside the big metal fridge. He looked around, the place wasn’t even open, but it was so alive. Being a Sunday, they always opened a little later on the weekends, so they could sleep in.
“Swirl! Remember to whip up some Sherbet!” Swirl hated how loud his father was. He could never tell if he was angry, or just trying to tell him something. He just sat there for a second not saying a word. He just assumed it better not to reply with what he really wanted to say. He felt like he needed to change how he spoke to other ponies.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and there stood the smiling pink pony known as Pinkie Pie. Swirl was a little confused as to why she was here so early. So he stood up and went to the door, and gave her a forced smile.
“Hi again Swirly!” Swirl hated that name. He unlocked the door and let her in.
“How are you today Pinkie?” Swirl let her bounce passed him, and he shut and locked the door behind himself. He still needed to clean the window on the front door. He went back over to the counter, where Pinkie was spinning around on the stool. She stopped herself as Swirl reached down to grab a rag and some Winnie-Dex. She smiled at Swirl.
“Hey frowny, you got any drinks here?” Pinkie had an odd sense of humor, and somehow it always made Swirl smile.
“Yea Pinkie, we got drinks, what’s your poison?” Pinkie’s smile seemed to get bigger every time he spoke, or maybe it was his smile. Happiness from Pinkie was infectious and she had made that promise to Swirl before.
“Something sugary.” She couldn’t sit still in her bar stool and kept spinning it back and forth.
“Hmm, alright.” Swirl then walked into the back, and grabbed a bottle of his Dr. Palomino. He returned to see Pinkie actually relaxed, kicked with her back against the bar. Swirl came up and set the drink next to her. “This one is on the house.” Pinkie spun around with her smile, and gave Swirl a wink.
“You really know how to treat a guest.” She opened the can and gulped it down in just a few seconds. She then set the can down, making an echoed cling against the white counter.
“Wow Pinkie that was impressive.” Swirl just kind of laughed as he moved back to the large freezer.
“Mhm! I learned that trick from my good friend Rainbow Dash. Me and her always have tons of fun together.” Pinkie gave Swirl a smile, but Swirl didn’t return the smile. He had pulled out the orange sherbet he had started mixing. Its consistency was lacking a good mixing, and a tiny bit of natural cane sugar. Swirl set it on the counter.
“Ooo, sherbet, I bet that’s gonna be good.” Pinkie licked her chops, making Swirl crack a smile again. He liked Pinkie; she was one of the few ponies that could make him happy, for really no reason.
“Pinkie, how do you make people happy like you do?” Swirl leaned against the counter, awaiting an answer. Instead she shrugged.
“It comes naturally. After all, it’s easier to make it through life happy all the time.” Swirl lost his smile. “And I think ponies naturally want to be happy, so I just stimulate that want.” Swirl was impressed by that sort of answer, especially from that hyperactive mare.
Author's Note
Flash back chapters will occur quite often, they will help set up Swirl's psyche.
