• Published 6th Jan 2014
  • 1,894 Views, 79 Comments

...But Duct Tape is Silver - Vermilion and Sage



Vinyl Scratch will not shut up. Too bad for her Octavia has had enough.

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The Things We Do for Wub

In that space, there were lights of every color, bright and flickering. Noise floated through the air, constant and enduring. Ponies moved about every which way, enjoying their night. One light was brighter than the rest, one beat was louder than any noise, and nopony was having a better night than any living creature in that club than Vinyl Scratch. There, at the center of the stage, under a bright spotlight, she stood tall. Mistress of the sound, queen of music, and high-priestess of wubs, she ruled over her domain. Yet there was something that rebelled against her dominion, a nagging, high-pitched whine. Over and over again it pulsed, louder and louder despite everything she did to cut it out. It smashed through the equipment, through the floor, and then it split apart the rafters. Bright light poured through, and the gap in the roof turned into the ceiling of her bedroom.

Vinyl looked over at her alarm clock. Eleven AM? Why in the Moon’s name did I set it so damn early? She reached over to shut it up, and stopped at the note taped over the snooze button. ‘Revenge’ had been hastily scrawled on it, next to a little smiley face with a V-brow. The thought made her grin despite her headache, and Vinyl grudgingly threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

Sitting on that bedside table was a bottle of water, and a small assortment of medication: two painkillers, and one caffeine pill. Am I always so clever at night? Why can’t it follow me to the morning? With a shrug, Vinyl popped the pills into her mouth and threw back several long gulps of water after them. After a trip to the shower, the headache was gone, and she almost felt like herself again.

Pausing to look in the mirror, Vinyl saw a side of herself that most ponies wouldn’t believe existed. There, staring her back, was a normal looking mare with her mixed blue shades of hair all wet-down. She afforded herself one little chuckle before moving on. Rubbing gel into her mane could wait until after business had been taken care of.

Two nights ago, Octavia had made fun of her, ignored her good company, and then brutally duct-taped her up. Even after cutting off most of the offending material, parts of it had to be torn. That had hurt, and taken parts of her coat with it. All around her fetlocks, and little spots around the corners of her mouth still stung from the maltreatment. Worst of all, Octavia had refused to share her supper after that, and Vinyl had been forced to cook instant noodles again for the ninth night in a row.

Such disgraces were beneath the dignity of the most famous DJ in the second poorest district in the city, and Vinyl was bent on rectifying them. The reason she had set her clock for such an early time on a Saturday morning was apparent in the empty silence filling the apartment. Octavia was out on a grocery trip, which would probably be followed by some sort of social gathering over coffee, and generally wasting a whole good morning and afternoon that could have been spent sleeping in. Such a pity.

Just like the neat-freak she was, Octavia had put the duct tape right back in the same drawer for Vinyl to find. Ten thousand malevilicious ideas found their way to her mind as she hurried up the stairs. That’s malevolent, evil, and delicious all in one incredible word. And Octavia thinks I don’t have any vocabulary.

Inside Octavia’s living space was an environment that could have served as a sterile operating room. Aside from the four-poster bed, an upright dresser, and the closed folding-doors to closet, the room was entirely clean. It would take a solid rooting through the closet to find anything worth messing with, and odds were that Octavia would go absolutely ballistic over some old dress covered in cut-out duct tape words. Just as Vinyl had managed to decide exactly what ratio of ‘slut’ to ‘easy’ that she was going to decorate the wardrobe with, she noticed the end of of Octavia’s cello case poking out from under the bed. A flash of inspiration struck like a strobe-light, and Vinyl seized the black case from its resting place.

After two trips all the way around the apartment, it was safe to say that the bottom of the stairs had the highest ceiling. Whistling merrily, Vinyl secured the case to the ceiling strand by strand. As the strain grew on her magic, the tape took more and more of the weight, until the case was secured to the ceiling. Pausing to wipe the sweat from her forehead, Vinyl paused to admire her work. It was perfect. Probably not worth taking a selfie with, but still beautiful. Absentmindedly, she ran a foreleg through her mane, and decided that it was still damp enough to gel back up. There was still a show that night, and she was going to enjoy it as much as she could to make up for the interrupted dream.

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“Vinyl Scratch! You’ll be wishing that you were food for wolves when I find you! I will bury you up to your neck in a barrel of honey and roll you into a ursa den! This means war!”

Even balanced precariously on her hind legs, on top of the kitchen stool, her custom ebony cello case was out of reach. That tape would ruin the custom finish, and be a sore sight until she could afford to get it replaced. For that matter, she would have to humble herself to find a pegasus or unicorn neighbor and explain her predicament.

Muttering dark curses in an ancient tongue only understood by those who know bass clef, Octavia put the stool neatly back beneath the counter, and departed to find help. Whether that help would stop at getting her cello back, or finding revenge on the wretched roommate who had repeatedly wronged her, she had yet to decide.

Author's Note:

Because you guys asked for a second chapter. You know who you are. You got it, too. Go tell your friends, your family, and your enemies (assuming they'd read it)!