//------------------------------// // Evacuate the Dancefloor // Story: Dragon of the Eclipse // by Marik_Azemus //------------------------------// Chapter 6 Evacuate the Dancefloor On the left side of the barn, large speakers that would make an alicorn look up bordered a small stage where a white unicorn with neon blue hair and a white coat was in control of the discs. This was Vinyl Scratch, or as most of Equestria knew her, DJ P0N-3. She levitated the mic to her lips. “Hey hey hey hey hey HEY, everypony! My name is DJ P0N-3 and I’m gonna turn this country club inside out and upside down! Imma give ALL the pegasai raging wingboners with nothing more than my sick beats!” The disco ball lowered from the ceiling, and refracted the many different colored lights across the room. “This whole barn will feel my wrath. OCTAVIA!” the good DJ pointed to the other side of the barn, where another stage was set. Four ponies stood there, with a large drum set and three electric guitars. “Would you kindly... DROP THAT GUITAR SOLO!” Octavia Pie picked up her guitar and began riffing like nopony’s business. “An excessive performance for a simple gathering. Was it truly necessary to hire a four pony ensemble?” Heretic was relaxing by the drink table, sipping grape juice and making desperate attempts to drown out the music. It wasn’t terrible, nor was it too loud, he just couldn’t think clearly. He only came to this party to be polite but he didn’t expect a whole rave in his name. This Pinkie Pie certainly wanted to make a lasting first impression. At least Winter Solstice was here. “Do enjoy yourself, dear,” she said in her usual soothing voice. “We haven’t been recognized, so that counts for something. Have a drink. Loosen up.” She levitated a shot glass to Heretic. He thought to himself, Solstice has never steered me wrong before. Gulp! “She put all this together in just one afternoon?!” Rainbow Dash was astounded at what Pinkie Pie had done. “Your girl pulled out all the stops for Bubblemint, and he doesn’t even like raves. What was she thinking?” “If I had a bit for every time I asked myself-” Rainbow Dash stopped herself and thought about what Judith just said. “Wait, you know this Bubbles guy?” Great, another slip of the tongue. “Um, yeah. He and I have been friends for a while. He’s kind of stubborn, and half the time I can’t understand a word he says, but he’s a good colt.” Rainbow Dash seemed to be losing herself in the music and lights. “Cool, cool. Hey, I’m gonna go find Pinks. Nice talking with ya, Jude.” What was with Rainbow Dash’s habit of shortening names? That question was gone as Rainbow Dash disappeared into the crowd of ponies, bobbing their heads, shuffling their hooves, and shaking their flanks. Judas had been distracted with talking to Rainbow Dash all day and had almost forgotten about something. That thought was suppressed at the back of her mind and now it had ricocheted forth. If most of Ponyville was in this gargantuan barn, perhaps Cerberus would be here... “Either the atmosphere of the party has influenced my passive ability to think clearly or, to put it simply, I’m drunk!” “Woah there, egghead. You should slow down a might.” “J’accuse!” Heretic couldn’t help but enjoy the unusually tasty apple cider set out by this orange mare. She looked somewhat familiar... “Another!” She cocked her eyebrow at Heretic. “...please?” Heretic stumbled through the crowd with an absolute loss for sense of direction. Eventually, he stopped himself at a table where baked goods were being served, and stood next to a grey pegasus. He was so drunk, it looked like her eyes were pointing in opposite directions. “Salutations, ma’am, I am the guest of honor at this gathering of... um...” “Ponies?” the pegasus suggested. “Correct. I apologize in advance for anything I might say that would offend, for I am, for lack of better words, drunk as a skunk.” This seemed to amuse this girl. “And yet you maintain a proper form of speech. This is simultaneously fascinating and amusing. I assume from your previous statement that you are Bubblemint Berry?” “Correctamuchodinero,” he chuckled. “Ah, I die a little inside every time I hear that name.” “Then we are in agreement, good sir, for what ponies tend to call me. Derpy, what a foolish moniker. It is perfectly normal to have skewed irises, yet people see fit to call me an asinine neophyte.” Rainbow Dash noticed a small green colt with magenta eyes, who she assumed was Bubblemint Berry, chatting with Derpy Hooves over by the table that held all the baked goods from Sugarcube Corner. Knowing Derpy, she’d probably see fit to chowing down on everything, the cakes, the cornbread, the muffins, oh sweet Celestia, the muffins... “...I apologize in advance for anything I might say that would offend, for I am, for lack of better words, drunk as a skunk.” “Oh em gee, are you Bubblemint Berry? You talk so fancy!” “Correctamuchodinero,” Bubblemint chuckled. “Ah, I die a little inside every time I hear that name.” “So, like, I’m Derpy Hooves, at least that’s what, like, everypony calls me. I’m not stupid, just wall-eyed.” Rainbow Dash couldn’t figure out what was weirder, Bubblemint holding a conversation with Derpy, or Derpy somehow understanding him. Either way, Rainbow Dash wasn’t having much fun. It likely had to do with the fact that everypony had enough grape juice and apple cider to fill a lake, and she hadn’t. In fact, she was probably the only one here who was sober. Well, aside from the DJ. Who the heck did she think she was, standing above the crowd, so high and mighty, looking down on all the drunk ponies below her... “Every day I’m Discordin’!” “HEY!” Rainbow Dash yelled to the DJ, “You! In the glasses!” To Rainbow Dash’s surprise, the DJ stopped the music. After many a moan and groan from the ponies whose dirty dancing was stopped short, the DJ responded. “Wassup, Arbee?” “You’ve got some nerve showing up here, you white menace!” “Do I, Vinyl Scratch, hear a challenge?” “Damn straight! I challenge you to a drinking match! Shots of the finest grape juice in this crib until one of us is under the table!” “Game on, Arbee. You’ll be out cold before I’ve even gone tipsy. Can I get a woot woot?” Pretty much everypony yelled WOOT WOOT! “Then it’s settled. Somepony get us a table and a keg of grape juice, real quick like.” Slam! “Do ya... yagiveupyeah?” “Don’t get so hast...hastyyyou... freaking... another shot!” Vinyl Scratch was determined to keep Rainbow Dash from besmirching her reputation. Seven years and six months as an A-list DJ and she never once lost a drinking contest, and this was a doozy of a match. Scratch had one too many drinks to use magic to levitate her shotglass and had to resort to her hooves like a common earthwalker. Another gulp, another addition to the odds that she could go catatonic any minute. “Nowayou go... argh...” the mismatch of colors began to blend together, and the edges of her vision were fading... Whump! It took a moment, but Rainbow Dash realized what just happened. She got up onto the table. “HA! I win! That’s right! I’m is a winner! I always win! I’m not bisexual! I’m bi-winning!” All her shimmying and shaking was too much for the table. Two of the legs broke in half, leaving Rainbow Dash to slide down the dance floor right into the pony she loved. “Hey Pinks! My wings are pointing straight up! Wanna go to Heaven?” Pinkie Pie helped Rainbow Dash to her feet and embraced her. “I’m so happy you made it, Dashie!” Then, Pinkie smelled the familiar scent of grape juice. She held Rainbow Dash at arm’s length. “Have you been drinking?” “No, yes. Maybe. Who’s this broad?” Rainbow Dash noticed a grey earthwalker with a bowtie and straightened hair. Pinkie had been having a conversation with this one. “I,” she said in a high class voice right out of Canterlot, “am Diane’s sister, Octavia. And who might you be?” Pinkie nuzzled Rainbow Dash’s colorful mane. “Octavia, I told you about my girlfriend Rainbow Dash!” “Well, when you said ‘girlfriend’ I assumed you meant... you know what, it’s fine.” “This might be the grape juice talkin’,” said Rainbow Dash as she struggled onto her hooves, “but weren’t you the cha... cello player at the Gala some odd years ago?” “Indeed. I would’ve said hello to you and Diane, but it would have ruined my image if it were known that I was related to” she looked at Pinkie sternly, “the pony that practically destroyed the ballroom.” “I helped!” said Rainbow Dash. “Oh Octyyyy! I require a cold shower at my humble abode and I need an escort!” The DJ who had fallen to Rainbow Dash stumbled over to Octavia’s side. Octavia lowered her head in wallowing embarrassment. “Diane, did I mention my girlfriend?” Pinkie’s already poofy hair was frazzled at the reveal. “Le gasp! You two make such a cute couple!” “You bet we do!” said Vinyl Scratch. “And let me tell ya, we’d be a lot cuter if I had won that drinking contest.” The thing with drinking contests is that, despite what anypony says, there are no winners, just whoever loses last, and Rainbow Dash just lost last. She gave in to the overpowering influence of the alcohol and collapsed into Pinkie. “I think I’m done here. Couldja take me home?” Pinkie‘s mouth stretched into her usual contagious smile. “Let’s go to my place. It’s closer.” “I like the sounda th-” This was the low point of the night. Everything just stopped at the sound of CRACK-COW. “-at... what was that sound? Who turned out the lights?!” It was pitch black in an instant, the music stopped, and the only thing visible to anypony were the whites of each other’s eyes. “Aw, I liked that song!” “The hay?!” “This sucks!” “Hey, look outside!” Rainbow Dash sobered up long enough to slowly open the barn door. “Are you serious? We didn’t schedule a thunderstorm!” A blinding flash of white lightning and another deafening blast blew the door off its hinges, and Rainbow Dash back into Pinkie Pie. “Much less one this intense!” Pinkie stood on whatever table hadn’t been blown away. “Okay, everypony! Party over! Get back to your homes right now! And do take whatever food you can carry, I worked hard on that stuff.” It was chaotic, but everypony managed to shuffle out of the barn in a semi organized fashion without any trampling, and any collisions that did ensue were mostly the result of Derpy, being weighed down by baked goods. The party had been over for less than thirty seconds and already it had left the minds of those who were drunk, dizzy or all danced out of energy, and instead, filled their minds with confusion. What Rainbow Dash had said was true: the pegasi weren’t planning on an intense storm such as this. No weather ever happened without their consent. Pinkie Pie, however, was more upset that her biggest party yet had been a failure. “I am SO UPSET! This was my biggest party yet and it was a failure! I’M A FAILURE!” as she lamented her loss, her mane straightened out and drooped over her face. “Bubblemint Berry is going to hate me forever and ever.” “I strongly disagree,” said Heretic, who had snuck up on Pinkie with his small stature. “Aside from the impending hangover, this party was a modest success. I particularly enjoyed having a philosophical conversation with Miss Derpy. This evening certainly left me long term memories that will not dwindle into afterthought within any foreseeable time period. You have my utmost gratitude, Pinkimena.” Pinkie, along with everyone else, didn’t understand a letter of that. “What?” “Thanks for the party, now get happy.” “You’re the boss, Bubblemint!” Her hair poofed up to it’s usual messy fluffiness. She gave him a friendly hug. “I’ll catch you later!” she started hopping away, ready for a romantic night with Rainbow Dash, but Heretic then grabbed her by the tail. “Stop yourself. Do you feel that?” “Feel what?” “A tingling sensation has arisen at the tips of my mane. I feel static in my tail... HIT THE DECK!” Heretic was somehow strong enough to pounce on Pinkie and pin her to the dirt. It’s a good thing he did. Another flash of light, but this lightning was more intense then before. It came down and struck the tree nearby the barn, barely missing him and Pinkie. “Thank you, Bubblemint.” “We are not quite safe. The familiar scent of flint and burning wood. If I turn my head 120 degrees to the right, that tree is likely to be on- FIRE!”