//------------------------------// // 4: A Sinner Kissed an Angel // Story: An Even Worse Self Insert // by ROBCakeran53 //------------------------------// Stars in the sky were dancing One night perfect for romancing, The night a sinner kissed an angel, He wanted thrills, she wanted love, “What in the hay happened to you!?” My eyes tried to focus on where the sound came from, but they didn’t feel up to the challenge. Instead, I turned my entire head to my left, seeing the purple ali-pony-thing sitting there, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. “What?” I asked, forgetting what we were talking about tonight. “Alex, what did you do?” she asked. I blinked several times, rubbing my face with my hand, only to find it covered in oil and dirt stains. What was I doing again? I asked myself. “You got home hours ago, I saw you. But then you left again.” Left again? “Left again? NO no no, I went down to the barn.” “Barn?” Twilight asked. “Yes, I have a barn, where I work on stuff and things and stuff.” I reached down to the floor for a bottle of… what was I drinking? My eyes struggled to focus on the label. It was some form of beer, something non-domestic, probably a leftover from a friend. “You got home late though. Why would you go down there to do more work?” Twilight asked. I swore she was worried, but it was clear by now this wasn’t my first, second, or even third drink this night. “I dunno.” “Oh no, that’s no excuse. What’s going on?” Twilight asked. Oh yeah, that was her name! Twilight. It slipped my mind a couple of times there. “Well I had to finish my dad’s truck,” I said, nodding my head. Was I even still listening to music? I couldn’t remember. “But it’s already past two in the morning. Why would you go out this late to work?” “Why do you stay up so late to-” “Oh no, you’re not gonna turn this around on me.” Twilight said with some authority. I leaned away from her, my head bumping into the lampshade on my right. Looking at Twilight’s eyes for a solid moment, I tried to rack my brain back to function once again to come up with an explanation. “Okay, so, like, I’ve been putting off getting his truck fixed.” I looked to Twilight, who only nodded in understanding. “And I’d done half the work a couple weeks ago. Then tonight, I decided to just get it done.” “Just like that?” Twilight asked. “Yeah, just like that,” I said. “What made you decide to just go out and work more, after working all day at your job?” Twilight asked, as if there was an alternative motive. Which I think there was, but I couldn’t remember what it was, even if I wanted to hide it from her. “Because.” Suddenly, I felt a… something on my left shoulder. Turning, I saw it was a purple hoof. Huh, that’s what they felt like. Anyway, she was looking at me with a worried expression. “You’ve been doing so good at cutting back. And suddenly, you return home and are drinking. What’s the matter?” I swore, she actually, legit, one hundred and twenty percent, sounded like she cared. Sadly, I didn’t. “Nothing. I’m just fucked up and tired and exhausted, and wanted to unwind.” “So you spent four hours in your barn working more?” I looked to the record player, still silent for… some time now, I dunno. “Yo, use your magic stuff to play the record again.” After a few seconds, or maybe minutes, my brain was still buzzed, I looked to the mare beside me. Knowing I was giving her the attention I could best muster, she shook her head. “No? Well fine, fuck you then,” I said, standing up, only to fall back onto the couch. “Take it easy!” Twilight tried to rest her hoof on my shoulder again, but I shoved it away. “No, fuck you. Fuck everyone and everything.” I stood, this time victorious, and with a finger resetting the lever on the record player to play the song again. “What is your problem?” Twilight asked, sounding more mad than worried I noticed. Huh, I noticed that? I must have been sobering up, so I took another swig from the bottle at my feet. “I want to feel like shit. I’ve been feeling good for too long.” “That makes no sense.” “No, it does.” “Okay then, explain.” “Every time I do something good, and feel accomplished, it bites me in the ass.” “So what happened?” I looked at the record player, now on the instrumental part. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “Nothing yet, excuse me.” “So what, you expect something to happen because you accomplished in finishing working on something for your father?” I shrugged, sipping at the… let’s say weird, weird beer. “Yeah. Last time, he wrecked his green truck after I did a bunch of work to it.” “So what, when things are going good, you drink because you want to numb yourself as a bracer for when something bad happens?” “Wow, you took the words right out of my mouth.” “I’m sorry to say it, but that’s just life. Sometimes things go good, sometimes they go bad. There’s no getting around it. You just gotta pick yourself up and keep going. If you expect something bad to always happen to you, then you’ll get nowhere.” “Hope for the best, expect the worst,” I said. “I hate that expression. It’s so pessimistic.” “Yeah, well that’s how I live my life. That’s why I don’t own anything nice, or good, or modern or expensive.” I stood, pulling the lever to start the record again. “Just look at this thing, it’s older than God. Held together barely with parts from other record players.” Twilight looked to her left, spying a box, still unopened. “What about that?” I looked at the box, clearly show casing a brand new record player. “What about it?” “You have a new one right here, why don’t you use it?” “It was a gift from a friend, one I didn’t want.” “Well, clearly they care about you to send you such a nice gift.” “Yeah, they’re a good friend. Too good for me.” Twilight opened her mouth to continue, but I interrupted. “That record player is probably going to sit in that box for five years, because if I open it and try to use it, something’s going to happen and go wrong. I’m going to break it, or abuse it, or whatever the fuck else I do.” “Well, that’s rude of you.” “Excuse me?” I asked, and realized I was still standing, but didn't’ care to sit just yet. “I can’t imagine that new player was cheap. So you’re going to be rude and just let it sit unopened, unappreciated, and-” “I never, never, said it was unappreciated.” Twilight game me a sideways glance. “You have no idea how much it means to get a gift like that from a friend. That is something I appreciate and adore. The fact they put so much thought into getting me a record player that met specifics of my taste that are hard to grasp, I wanted to cry when I got it.” Twilight looked to the box, resting against a old cabinet radio, then back to me. “But look, look at my hands,” I said, putting my hands towards her, palms out. Twilight didn’t need to lean close or get a better look, it was clear to their condition. “I’m dirty, oily, greasy, and whatever else you can think up. This is how I am. I washed my hands three times, and it still doesn’t come off. I’m just filthy, always have been, and will be until I die in ten or so years.” Twilight continued to stare at me, sorrow in her expression. “So you see, that’s why I can’t open that box. Not for a while. It has to sit there, and stay clean, protected, until the right time.” “What is the right time?” Apparently I’d been standing for some time, because the song ended again. I started the record up, and finally fell back into my couch. “I don’t know… I never know.” Twilight took a moment to look around my bedroom. “You surround yourself with the old. It’s all beyond its years, and yet you keep them going.” “So?” “So why can’t you do the same with new things?” I took the final sip of the beer, setting the bottle down on the floor, and looked over to the mare. “So what if you dirty it? Or even break something on it? The point stands as with your antiques, with your records by Celestia’s sake! You take care of them in your own special way. They may not be clean, or in the best of shape, but you still care about them. So why should something new be treated differently than your old stuff?” I sat there for a few moments, lost in thought. Damn it, I hated it when she was right, which she’d been too often in our conversations. “Fine.” I stood, stumbling over to the box and grabbing a pair of scissors, opened it. I pulled the player out of its foam prison, took it out of the plastic, and set it on my table. “There, it’s open. It’s exposed. Happy?” “My happiness isn’t what we’re talking about. Are you?” I looked at the player, the plastic wrap still protecting the top cover. It was a nice player, modern, USB capable and could produce sound probably better than my dated system. “No.” “Why?” I looked to the mare. “Because this gift means a lot to me, but that old, worn out player with mis-matched parts, was a gift from long ago, and until it dies, I will forever use it.” “So why do you feel guilty for having the new one?” I didn’t remember using the world guilty, but I guessed Twilight was more perceptive than I thought. “Because it won’t mean as much to me as my old one, and I feel bad.” “I think, if your friend was really a true friend, that they’d understand, and wouldn’t be upset. We all have something personal to us that no matter how many of the same thing you throw at us, it won’t ever come close to that closer object.” I stared at the new player for a while, then walked back over to my old player. The song having ended, I gently picked up the record and took it over to the new player, placing it on the turntable and after fiddling with the power cord turned it on, playing it again. Instantly, the audio difference was noticeable. Cleaner, crisper, and the song sounded like it was from a CD. And yet, I could only frown. This wasn’t how these records were played. How they sounded way back when. “You care too much.” I drew my attention from the player and to Twilight, who was examining my empty beer bottle. “This is a local company, to Michigan anyway.” “Huh, no shit.” Twilight set the bottle back onto the floor. “You shouldn’t worry so much on how the music is played, only that it is being played period. Both players were gifts from people important to you, but you don’t have to play favorites. Find uses for each one." I sat in the chair at my table, watching the record spin. “Yeah. I guess.” At that point, I was beyond exhaustion, and suddenly I felt a tugging on my arm. “Come on, let's get you to bed.” I didn’t argue, or protest. She guided me to my bed, where I crawled onto it, still fully clothed in my dirty pants and shirt. At some point I’d at least had the smarts to shove my suspenders off my shoulders. I’d be regretting this sleeping arrangement in the morning, when the many things in my pockets stabbed me in my sleep, but I didn’t care at the moment. Twilight took a seat back onto my couch, back towards me. I stared at her for a while, only a single lamp casting light as usual. I still couldn't get over how from behind she looked like a cat, sitting and waiting. The only difference being the long mane that wrapped around her neck. Her coat looked soft and well groomed, and at that moment I felt like touching it. But I knew better, and instead rolled over onto my stomach. “Goodnight,” I mumbled, my face in my pillow. Twilight looked back to me. “Goodnight, Alex,” Twilight’s horn lit up, and twisted the switch on the lamp, casting my bedroom into darkness. ”That night a sinner kissed an angel, That was the night I fell in love.