My eyes open with a slight cracking sound. The sunlight slowly seeping through my open window hits me right in my already sensitive sight balls, and I bring my hand up to my face to shield my brown eyes. I look across my empty, unkempt bed to my wooden nightstand where my black digital clock seems to blend in with the darkness of my shadowed wall. Next to it stands a picture frame. The picture inside is me and my best friends standing in a circle at my latest DJ tournament: Megan, Isabelle, Kayli, Allen, Kaitlyn, Matt, Auna, Dillon, Nate, Stephen, Hannah, James, and Anthony. The base covers it up, but on the back of this photo, it's autographed by all the people in the picture.
I smile as I look at this picture, because it reminds me of the crazy times we all used to have together in middle school and from then on. The tournament I attended pitted me, Nate, and Stephen's metalstep band, Three by Three, against one of the greatest dubstep groups of that time: Never Say Die. Sure, we got our asses kicked, but it was still fun. Three guys against ten others? Totally even fight. We still got to meet some of our favorite dubstep artists, though: Zomboy, Eptic, Skism, Habstrakt, Foreign Beggars; the list goes on. God, I still can't believe how SHITFACED we got at the afterparty. That night was one of the best of my life.
Tragedy struck that night, as well. As Matt was driving away from the concert, we forgot to tell him not to drive, because we had been drinking. A lot. We all took cabs home, but Matt didn't. The cocky bastard. Eventually, the inevitable happened. He crashed into a wall and broke both of his legs. After we took him to the hospital, the doctor told me some of the worst news I'd ever heard regarding Matt. The damage was too great, and he was paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. As I walked into the room, I hadn't realized how fucked up Matt got until the moonlight shone on his bed. His face had bloody scars, his left eye was swollen shut, and his legs and right arm were in casts, raised by ropes and pads in the ceiling. He had a heart monitor hooked up to him, and it was beeping at a steady rate.
Thinking about that night brings a tear to my eye, so I try to remember when he could walk: stealing my mouse when I wasn't looking, stealing chocolate milks for me in middle school, pissing off the custodian by making scratch marks on the tiled cafeteria floor with his chair feet. Good times.
The red numbers on my clock display the time:
"5:46," I mumble to myself.
My eyelids are starting to get really heavy. Then I realized what was happening today. My eyes shoot wide open, and I sit straight up.
"The launch is today! I gotta go! Like, right now!"
I pull my covers off of me, and see I'm still in my boxers with ponies on them. "Shit."
I stand up with aching knees. My back pops as I put my hands on it. It refreshes me. I look around my small room to find my closet. The posters on my wall are of Vinyl Scratch, the villains of my favorite television show, My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, and me at my very first real DJ event. I'm wearing my alias: DJ Br0n-3. I have on a white tanktop, white pants, red hi-top shoes, red gloves, a red and green mohawk, red eye lenses, and a red and green tail. The DJ table I have on a table in front of me is a Numark Mixtrack Pro. I scratch my back absentmindedly, and find the scar from where I had the tail implanted into my back.
"That was a really stupid idea," I mutter. "Can't dwell on that now. Time to make history."
Walking over to my closet, I pull my white button-up shirt off of the white wire hanger it sits on. I do the same with my nicest pair of blue denim jeans I can find. I reach into my custom-made metal dresser and pull out some black socks. I sit on my bed and put those on, one foot at a time. My signature red hi-tops are next to my feet. I slide my feet inside and pull the tongue out so my feet feel comfortable. I kick the beige wall slightly to get my shoes snugly fitted to my feet.
I think to myself, When I get back from this, I need to change the color of these walls. 'Tis too boring.
I grab my brony wallet, watch, brony bracelet, and brony sunglasses off of my nightstand. I put my wallet in my back pocket, my watch on my right hand, bracelet on my left arm, and sunglasses on my face. I go into my bathroom, grab the black comb off of the bathroom counter, and comb my unkempt brown hair until it looks at least presentable. I turn the faucet on cold water, cup my hands together, fill them with the cold water, and splash my face to fully wake myself up from my 6-hour slumber. I grab the blue towel off the rack behind me and dry my face off.
