Concerto Cinque
Vinyl carried her alcohol with roughly the same precision that she carried herself while under its influence. In essence, not very well at all. A hoofful of Stagner’s bottles later, and she devolved into a barely coherent mass of stumbling limbs and slurred speech. While it had crossed the minorly tipsy Octavia’s mind to simply let her walk home, and maybe watch at a distance with a box of popcorn, she decided it was for the better to help her somewhere safe where she could allow her liver to slog its way through the backlog of alcohol in her system.
Thankfully, Vinyl’s choice in the winebar for the night had placed them within reasonable distance of Octavia’s apartment. So Octavia had opted to take her home, (not that Vinyl was anywhere near capable of conveying a yay or neigh on that question.) It was due to this turn of events that Octavia found herself half-propping, half-dragging Vinyl to her home. In essence she had become a ponified crutch, and admittedly, her alcohol intake for the evening had somewhat affected her balance as well. Fortunately, the fresh air was doing something to keep her lucid as she helped Vinyl along as best she could.
So, in all honesty, the pair fell down into a chaotic pile of legs and hair quite a few times. Still, Octavia felt it better than lingering in the bar. She hoped that their absence would lead the ice-cream pony to write about something less vulgar, or at the very least, something that didn’t involve her. Octavia wrapped a foreleg around Vinyl, shunting the groaning mare onto her hooves...only a few more blocks now.
They passed by a public house, the bar itself packed to the brim with yobs watching their hoofball games. An incredibly overrated and culture-less past-time in Octavia’s opinion. Hoof a ball in a box, doesn’t take any skill or thought at all! It seemed that the game had recently ended, because as they passed by the bar, a trio of cheering and heavily intoxicated colts burst out, chorusing a hoofball chant.
It was this that roused the barely conscious Vinyl to lift her head and foreleg, waving at the colts with a cry of ”Green arr-may!”
Octavia snapped Vinyl’s hoof to the floor, hissing in her ear. “Vinyl, stop it. The last thing I want is a group of drunk colts to know we’re a pair of barely sober fillies out on our own!”
“What’s wrong, Octavia?” Vinyl giggled, trying and failing to keep her head at Octavia’s eye level. “Scared of a little male attention?”
“Ugh, like I’d want to spend the night with a drunken hooligan like them.”
Vinyl giggled, though she’d surrendered to the alcohol and was now staring down at the floor. “So instead you’re taking a drunken, filly hooligan for the night?”
“Well, I would hardly treat you in the same way one does a colt, and to be honest, you’re mostly harmless anyway.”
Vinyl reared up on her hind legs, blind luck and a south-westerly wind the only things keeping her upright. “Harmless? I could bust your rump easy as pie, Octavia...like apple pie...you got any apple pie at home?”
“I might, the real question is whether I’d give you any.”
“If you do, I won’t beat you up...I promise.”
“Truly, Vinyl, you are a gentlemare.”
After much struggling and more passive threats concerning Vinyl’s wish for food, Octavia finally managed to drag the filly to her home. A simple night on the couch, then she could turf her out in the morning. She left Vinyl to lean against the wall, took out her keys, opened the door, then picked up Vinyl after she inevitably fell over again. Octavia felt that tonight would be a good thing to jot on her CV, in case she ever took a job in the Marefia. In honesty, she had the body-dragging experience and the cello case now, she was probably as qualified as they come.
Vinyl was placed, rather unceremoniously, on the couch. She then proceeded to de-ceremony herself as much as ponily possible, by slumping into a sprawling position over the soft, suede surface. Irritatingly, she remained awake while Octavia opened her favourite cupboard. Naturally, contained within it was a plethora of beverages, but it was the prized Jura she extracted, tipping it into a glass, and enjoying a refreshing sip as she reclined in her own chair.
Vinyl had been watching her, while Octavia had noted the fact she was slowly slipping off the couch, but didn’t feel any pressing need to help. Vinyl once more that night, found herself face down on the floor, her legs flailing a second after she landed. Octavia could only take it for a massively delayed attempt to stay on the couch. She watched Vinyl’s sluggish attempts to claw her way back on to the couch, sipping the Jura. In the end, she felt it necessary to help her, if only to stay her scuffing the suede with her hooves.
“Come here, you.” She once more slipped her forelegs under Vinyl’s form, and raised her onto the couch, repositioning her limbs to be more stable this time.
“Thanks, Octy...you got any music...can’t sleep without music.”
“I suppose a light piece of Mozcart can help anypony to sleep.”
“You put that classical junk on...and I’ll snap the vinyl it’s recorded on...okay?”Vinyl peeped open an eye, a playful malicious glint was visible on its surface. The tips of her lips curled upwards in a light smile. “Got anything more...my kinda thing?”
Octavia basically couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of a musical argument at that point, and she doubted Vinyl’s brain was receptive enough to acknowledge it anyway. She rifled through her collection of records, calling out anything that might have pleased the paralytic unicorn mare.
“Bruce Wingsheen?”
“Oh no, not an Apple ‘n’ Western...bin it if you wanna.”
Octavia growled under her breath, the vocals in that album were particularly well sung. “Flank Sinatra?”
“Ughh...boooring! So slow!”
“You really are impossible...hmmm...” She pulled out a cover, lightly coated in dust. “I suppose Whinny Hendrix is too old for your tastes too?!”
“You have Hendrix?!” Vinyl gasped, but not in spiteful glee as Octavia imagined she would. No, this was genuine glee.
“You...like them?”
“What sane pony doesn’t?! Sure new bands like Hedged Sevenfold and Atreyu are a little bit punchier, but you can’t beat the ol’ classics.” Vinyl was a little more upright, clapping her hooves together with joy.
Octavia slipped the vinyl onto the plate, eager for anything other than the noise of Vinyl ridiculing bands she quite enjoyed. She did enjoy Hendrix, the guitar was skilfully played, and it was definitely more pronounced and thought-out than most of the screaming noise that passed for ‘metal’ these days. It wasn’t a musician she often sought out, but thankfully, one she would happily listen to if it happened to be playing. This occasion being one such instance of that.
She stood back from the record player, the music beginning to filter through. The sound of clinking glasses alerted her to Vinyl’s movements, and she found the house guest rifling her way through the drinks cupboard with her magic.
“Do feel free to make yourself at home, Vinyl.”
“No problem. Say, you never said you had this stuff!” She retrieved a bottle of a rich, green liquor. Pan-Equestrian Gargle Blasters, all the power of an alicorn distilled into alcohol and served up in a bottle.
“Vinyl...I...how are you so lively all of a sudden anyway?”
“Come on, Whinny could get anypony moving! What did you buy this stuff for if you’re not gunna drink it, anyway?” Vinyl poured out two glasses, and a small puddle on the carpet. It’s not really easy to tell whether the carpet enjoyed the drink, the green colour the usually cream fibres took up may have been equinopomorphised sickness...or it might have just been the colour of the liquor, in all honesty.
Octavia took the offered drink, that had in turn been unspokenly unoffered to Vinyl. She had tried them before. Once. The hangover was brutal, and she felt little need to drink it more often. However, there was something about the way Vinyl gleefully offered the drinks with that fillylike glint in her eyes that put Octavia at ease. She carefully sniffed the drink, remembering the not-so-delicate allure of paint thinner on its scent. Vinyl sniffed her own, her snout wrinkling at the smell.
“That’ll put you into an early retirement! Alright...three...two...one...Slug!”
The pair downed the drinks, Octavia felt her world instantly get pounded six ways from Sunday in an instant. It became suddenly very difficult to orchestrate the myriad of leg muscles required to keep upright, and she plummeted to the floor in a barely conscious alcoholic haze.
* * * * * *
As was previously mentioned, Octavia was no stranger to awakening in the realm of the hangover. What she had yet to grow used to, was the various fiefdoms of a hangover, and the condition she’d be left in upon visiting one.
It must be said that she had never awoken upside-down on her own couch before. Octavia was genuinely unaware whether the pounding in her head was the alcohol permeating her blood, or the blood itself collecting in her head. Her head lolled over the edge of the couch in as graceless a way as could be imagined.
She shifted her body, trying to at least get the ceiling to go back to where it belonged, and return is space to the floor. This turned out to be more difficult than she had imagined, as her drunken self had apparently managed to delicately balance herself in this precarious position. A balance that was lightly stolen away as she moved, and fell head first onto the carpet, the rest of her body joining its leader in a crumpled mass above it.
At least the blood was beginning to even itself out now, but if anything, the rapid drain of blood had made her headache worse. She managed to collect and sort her body in a manner she imagined would be fitting, the carpet being lumpier than she had remembered. She felt a sharp, cylindrical edge, and a pointed cone poking into her back. The very irritated, but surprisingly well camouflaged pony shunted her off with a pain groan, and Octavia got to feel the soaring joy of a pegasus for the briefest of moments before she once more landed on the carpet with a loud thud.
“Like my head wasn’t bad enough...without your rump falling onto it!”
“I can hardly be blamed...I’m not letting you near me...with that stuff ever again.”
Vinyl rolled over, her crimson irises surrounded by an equally crimson array of tiny blood vessels, hardly presenting a well-maintained window to her soul. “Why...do you even have that stuff? It’s...it’s not natural!”
“I got bored one day, shoot me!” Octavia rolled over to face Vinyl, and she could see in her reflection on the nearby mirror - that was hanging from the wall, but fortunately, still intact - that her eyes were equally ravaged by the swarming capillaries. “You...you want a drink?”
“Yeh, my throat’s killing me...wait a...” Vinyl reached around her neck, noticing an adornment she wasn’t familiar with. Her magic sluggishly attempted to grip it, almost choking her a few times, until she pulled it off. In the glowing, white aura before her was a little, pink bowtie. “Why the hay, am I wearing your bowtie?!”
“Oh, I don’t know, honestly...I’m far too tired to even consider what happened.” Octavia clamped her hooves to her head, in an attempt to counteract the pounding pulse of her headache by squeezing it into submission. It was surprisingly comforting, her hooves being alot softer than she remembered. Almost like...cashmere?!
She pulled away her hooves, noticing the pink clothing wrapped around her calves, tiny, grey clefs adorned on each one. The blood once more returned to her head, congregating in her cheeks as if to laugh at her embarrassment. She ripped the socks off her hooves, stowing them under the couch, before turning to see Vinyl’s grin breaking through her pain.
“Nice socks, Octavia. Now, do you mind explaining this?” Vinyl smoothed back the coat on her neck, revealing an inflamed, bruise-like mark. “Cos I looked in the mirror, and it looks like teeth marks.”
Octavia’s mind was slowly grinding to a halt, not really capable of processing the situation before her. “Ummm...maybe...a dog?”
“Do you even have a dog?”
“No. You could have simply...fallen over.”
“No, these’re definitely teeth...and it looks like a pony’s. I dunno, what do you think?” Vinyl stared at Octavia blankly, who, with nothing to go on, fell upon that ancient fallback devised by an ingenious social embarrassment fallback inventor many years ago.
“I think we need a nice cup of tea!” Octavia rose as rapidly as her aching limbs could carry her, galloping past Vinyl and into the kitchen. Vinyl watched her past, giggling despite the pain the movements caused to her head. She reached towards the record player, that was still bleating the same incessant tune she didn’t recognise. She picked up the vinyl, her face somehow finding a shade whiter than its own natural tone as she recognised the artist, Bridle White, before tossing it under the couch to rest quietly next to the tabooed socks. This was definitely a night both of them would be glad that neither could remember.
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hahaha, this ending never gets old
I like this, keep it coming, I like to see how they react.
hahaha, this ending never gets old
28272
I would have agreed, and probably said, "you can say that again", but apparently you did so good job.
Also to the matter of the story its self. It is so well right can't wait for more, I suppose I could look it up on DA or EqD, but Im too lazy.
har har he he :D
good as always... can you explain to me why writers "hate the UI on this website"
just wondering.
This chapter was great! I t was soo funny. and Octavia practically admitted to being friends ! please keep it up I love this!.
Best part. "“Harmless? I could bust your rump easy as pie, Octavia...like apple pie...you got any apple pie at home?”
“I might, the real question is whether I’d give you any.”
“If you do, I won’t beat you up...I promise.”
“Truly, Vinyl, you are a gentlemare.” and the whole ending from the Bow tie down!
LOL! I wonder how many people are gonna get the Bridle White
OOOOOH YEEEEEEA.....
I like how successful and creative mares get wasted together.
Learn how to spell "Yea or nay." I get that the latter is supposed to be a pun, but the simple mistake of the former kind of ruined the humor for me.
My brain was just smashed out by a piece of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.
this is perfecT!
xD Pan Equestrian Gargle Blasters? Next ur gonna be telling us that theyre gonna go and find the answer to life the universe and everything while hitchhiking on some pony vogons spaceship
can't wait till sylvester. this is totally gonna happen to me. XD
guess where my SN is from
Oh, my gosh. I *love* stories with this scenario. Nothing makes an a story more interesting than drunken antics, inexplicable hickeys, and swapped clothing.
the hang over scene reminded me of another fic a read by woloki the author of the leap of faith twilight sparkle V.S. the great and powerful trixe you should check out is work some time. just a suggestion.
They pan equestrian gargle blaster the effects of which are like having your brains smashed by a lemon wrapped around a large gold brick. Oh douglas adams you and your hitchhikers guide to the galaxy oh so many references I have found in this web site they amaze me also fabulous story
"Pan-Equestrian Gargle Blasters"
Reference the vital importance of towels, the creator of the Norwegian fjords or the infamous Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters and you earn a like from me. Just like that. I'm cheap sometimes, I know, but what the heck
Lmfao love the ending
Let me just get out the old Drunk Meter:
resultsarein.files.wordpress.com/2012/03/irish.jpg
That's worrying.
667699
"Turn that disrespectful junk off!"
"Respect the classics, man! It's Hendrix!"
Tis a great and wonderful movie, that.
Just one correction: "watched her past" should be "watched her pass"
And now a hitchhiker's guide reference? fantastic, dude.
I have absolutely no idea what they might have done that night.
Nope.
I don't know why but hedged sevenfold made me laugh so hard.
I loved all the musician references/puns in this chapter but is the last one supposed to be Barry white?
I know I might be a little (a lot) biased by the French literature writing conventions in accordance to which I've been raised, but this fic has something most others are sadly lacking, namely STYLE. Every paragraph is pure, unadulterated stylistic glee, which makes the whole "slice of life" concept not only bearable, but incredibly fun to read. Hats off (yes, plural, I'm mutliheaded !), and now I go
(have to keep sipping at your tipsy-ing wordsmithery, after all. The night is still young in here !).
Also, are you working in a marketing department somewhere in the alcohol industry ? If not, you should. All that alctalk is starting to make me thirsty. And I'll be counting on your organ-donating largesse when my liver fails. I'm serious.
3161668
I've gone through a six pack of cider, a bottle of apple flavored liquor, and have now started on a bottle of wine in honor of the large quantities of alcohol that Octavia and Vinyl consume in this fic! (you have no idea how long it took me to type this properly...)
When I read Hedged Sevenfold I was listening to A7X !
just perfect. And I can guess what they were doing last night. I wasn't so sure until Vinyl pointed out the teeth marks on her neck. Oh sweet Celestia did I laugh.
And now a Hitchhiker's Guide reference?! You are not merely the lord of references, you are the god! And they get better every chapter! Holy crap!
This right here. Fucking awesome.
I had forgotten how brilliantly this is written, I am so glad I have come back to read it again.
wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/80450F/starcrush.com/files/2013/04/Atreyu-Neverending-Story.jpg
2610105 And my Axe. *grabs small black can of deodorant*
2979613
I don't know. I was wondering the same, and that's the best guess I've heard so far.
Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy reference!
Not sure if you've read "And another thing" but I prefer dragon eggs for a drink
why would she have socks? hmmmmmm
With that out of the way, who's name is being turned into a pun with Whinny Hendrix? (What's their actual name?)
7991850
you know jimmy Hendrix