She isn't the type of pony I usually talk to. Uncouth? Yes. Insane? Probably. The kind of mare I would ever be allowed to be seen with? Never.
She's odd, that Vinyl Scratch. Obnoxiously tangled, way-too-bright blue mane and tail, and those sunglasses. She never takes them off! How rude.
Her music isn't even music. Just noise, clashing together in some muddy, rhythmic muck.
Octavia sighed, pulled back to reality by a sudden wrong note from her beautiful cello. That one note always came groaning out in such a nauseatingly sluggish way. Octavia scanned the music for a
good place to restart, a few measures back. Ah. the repeat. Perfect. As the melody began to flow out of her precious instrument again, Octavia let her mind wander back to that awful mare she'd met earlier.
She isn't right. Not in the head, not in anything. She's all wrong. Octavia thought glumly. I wish I'd never even gone to that bar, in the first place.
It had been a hard day. The pieces Octavia had played had come out all wrong, she hadn't gotten the job.On days like those, sometimes it was good to go to a nice, quiet bar, still sophisticated, but not crowded with high-end ponies laughing, talking, dancing. This place was filled with mares and colts like herself, tired, maybe a little sad, but still classy.
This time, however, when Octavia entered, passing the guard at the entrance without even a glance, an awful, grinding, pounding beat met her ears. Octavia flattened them down against her head and turned back to the passive looking guard.
"What in Equestria is all the racket?" Octavia shouted to him over the noise, ears still flattened disapprovingly.
"Special guest musician, Ma'am," the guard said, flashing her a grin.
"musician? You mean to say you call that MUS--"
"Th'name's Vinyl Scratch, Ma'am," he said, still grinning. "She's a scream, eh?"
"A scream, my hoof," Octavia muttered as she turned away from the guard. "More like a bang, crash, noisy nuisance!"
Inside the second door was even worse. Octavia made a beeline for the bar, and ordered her usual. It was a mix she'd made up herself, and she was quite proud of it.
Then, suddenly, the music stopped with an ear shattering crash, and a husky but feminine voice crackled through the speakers.
"That's it with me, guys, but here's some more awesomeness, from my pal, DJ Dancer! Aight, DJ Pon3 out!" A bright white mare, tiny compared to all the equipment, emerged at the side of the stage and made her way to the bar. To Octavia's horror, the shaggy-maned creature sat down directly next to her.
Addressing the bartender loudly, the mare said, "Whatever, strongest ya got." She slammed a couple of bits on the counter, slurping her potent drink out of a red plastic cup. Ugh Octavia thought to herself. I didn't even know they had those here. Maybe she brought it specially?
"So," the white mare said, poking Octavia in the ribs and startling her out of her thoughts. "Ya come here often?"
Octavia threw her an annoyed look, but answered as politely as possible. "Yes ma'am. But, I don't believe I've seen you around here before?" She scooted a little farther away, and looked in the opposite direction, hoping to end any conversation.
"Nah," The mare's vibrant blue mane tickled Octavia's shoulder as she slid closer again, obviously not taking the hint. "This is the first time I've played here, but, I think I'll be back. You like my bass?"
"Bass?" Octavia asked, now thoroughly miffed. "One of my best friends plays the bass, and I play the cello, and neither of our instruments sound anything like that racket."
"Ah," the mare said knowingly. "A classical. Well, maybe you'll learn to like this kind too. By the way, I'm Vinyl Scratch. And you are...?"
"Octavia," Octavia said stiffly.
"Well, it's been awful nice talkin' to ya, 'Tavi, but I gotta scram. But come back and maybe we can talk again. 'Kay bye!" And with that, Vinyl Scratch spun her stool around, sliding off and trotting off to the exit without so much as a backward glance. Seconds afterwards, a little white card with lightning-like, electric blue stripes in one corner popped out of thin air in front of Octavia, a mere hair's breadth away from landing in her glass.
Willing to play at parties, your house, bars,
On the back was scribbled Call me, seemingly in crayon, along with a common five digit number.
Octavia shook her head, stuffing the card in her coat pocket. Downing the last melted-ice-y sip in her glass, she dropped a few bits on the counter, and walked slowly out the door.
The weather had turned windy and cold, and even with her coat, Octavia shivered. She couldn't wait to get home to a hot cup of tea and her cello.
Playing the cello always calmed Octavia's nerves, ever since she was a filly. This afternoon had certainly been earshattering, as well as nerve-shattering. Octavia sighed as she breathed the crisp autumn air. Yes, playing her cello would definitely help calm her down, she was sure.
All through the evening, thoughts of Vinyl Scratch buzzed through Octavia's mind like a troublesome gnat; Able to be shooed away for a few moments, but always back before too long, never willing to leave altogether.
What sort of mare are you, Brain? Octavia lectured herself over dinner. Can't you just let go of it already? She was just weird, that's all. You'll probably never see her again, so be quiet and forget already.
But Octavia's mind had other plans. Thoughts of Vinyl lurked in her system no matter what she did to distract herself.