It was a beautiful Sunday morning in Hoofington, the rays of Celestia's sun lighting up the sky with a gorgeous mixture of orange and red color. The birds in their nests were only just beginning to stir, their happy tweeting filling the air as a light breeze blew through the empty streets of the town. The flapping of wings could be heard up in the sky as Ditzy Doo soared overhead, flying upside down with her loopy eyes looking in every direction, a collection of twenty letters stuffed in her mouth. Down the street, a few sleepy looking shop-keepers exchanged hello's and greetings to one another as they trudged into their shops, flipping closed signs to 'Open', and taking care to get their shops ready and presentable for the day. Young school fillies emerged from their houses, saddlebags on their back and cheerful expressions plastered on their faces as they eagerly awaited the school day to begin. All was calm and peaceful in Hoofington...at least you would think so if you were to stand in the streets and watch as Hoofington gently came to life. Everypony in town however...all frowned in unison, turning their heads to stare at clocks nearby. 6:59 A.M. was the time that the hands of the clocks said, with only a few seconds left to spare until the stroke of the seventh bell.
One of the shop keepers sighed and muttered to herself "5...4...3...2...1..........."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
On the edge of town, in a beautiful two story house of luscious oak and classical design, a grayish colored pony with a jet black mane and the purple cutie-mark of a treble clef sat up in bed and screamed. Her hooves slapped up to the sides of her head as she screamed "OH NOOOOOOOOOO!!! I'M LATE!!! OH GRACIOUS ME!!!!! NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!" She flew from the bed so fast her whole bed nearly tipped over from the force of her fleeing. She rushed into the bathroom, squealing in horror as she stared at her tangled, poofy mess of a mane in the mirror. She started hyperventilating, hopping into her shower and turning the right knob, lifting her hooves up and down rapidly, trotting in place out of impatience. It was only then she realized she had turned...the RIGHT knob...the one labeled 'C'.
"HORSEAPP-AAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Down the street, a purple Pegasus and a yellow unicorn mare were enjoying a quiet game of chess...well, mostly quiet. The screams of the gray mare were heard echoing all the way down the street. The unicorn sighed, muttering as she moved the Queen to A4
"Honestly...who needs a rooster when we have her?" The Pegasus giggled and moved a Pawn to D5, looking up and shaking her head
"Oh come now darling, she's under a lot of pressure, we all know it. With the work she does it's quite understandable." The unicorn frowned, looking up as she realized her knight was effectively trapped. She magicked her Queen three spaces over and said
"Still, you think she'd learn to manage her time a lot better. I mean, how many rehearsals does she attend daily? Like what...forty?" The Pegasus frowned at the Queen's movement, moving her Rook over to back up her Bishop in case of an attack and sighed, answering her friend
"Forty-five, the point is, she's a high-class pony. Those kinds of people are used to those kinds of massive obligations." The unicorn rolled her eyes as she thought about her next move, Queen, or Knight?
"You know, I MIGHT just believe that if we didn't have to listen to Spaz-Tavia every bucking morning..." she said, pulling her Knight back to avoid her friend's Queen.
Back at the house, the Gray mare started gagging up a foamy mixture, crying out in horror as she realized she had accidentally mixed up her shower bottles...managing to brush her teeth with shampoo and wash her hair with toothpaste.
"WHY!?!?!" She screamed, banging her head against the wall "WHY OF ALL DAYS, DID I HAVE TO BE LATE TODAY!?!?"
Further in town, a baker colt quickly prepared a raisin toast muffin, specially made with no access crust and baked to the size that allowed a pony to take four, equal bites in one sitting. A customer of his, a mare, huffed impatiently and shouted
"What's taking so LONG!?" The colt rushed towards the front of the store, a bag in his teeth as she muttered in apology, pushing open the door and throwing the bag outside. As it started to come down, a gray blur shot past with a speed that would make many pro-athlete pony's jaws drop, snatching the bag out of mid-air and flying down the street. The colt sighed and looked down, the total amount of five bits scattered about his porch from a quickly timed and aimed throw.
"That pony...I swear" he muttered, quickly collecting his pay and returning to his customer inside.
Near the edge of town, the carriage service was picking up business as usual, a good portion of them already gone. A brown colored colt sighed as he tried to tune out the mare shouting at him from his right, trying to get comfortable in the harness he was hooked up to.
"What do you mean this is RESERVED!?" the cream-colored mare shouted, making the colt respond simply
"I mean Reserved when I say RESERVED! Find another cart miss...this one's already taken." The mare grimaced in anger and shouted
"RESERVED BY WHO!?" Before the colt could answer, the same gray blur that shot past the baker colt's shop flew through the window of the carriage, nearly tipping it over as the mare jumped back in surprise.
"Her..." the colt sighed, pulling the carriage forward slowly and quickly tuning out the gray mare's shouts of
"DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE!!! Oh please hurry!!! PLEASE?!"
This is how the morning's of Hoofington have gone since the Gray Mare had moved in, bringing along her own unique wake-up call. They had heard many things about her, but she was always so busy and frantic in her business that noone could really get many answers out of her. What they DID know however, was that she performed for the Equestrian Symphony of Orchestrated Canterlotian Harmonics. She carried a large cello-shaped case on her back at all times, she looked like she rarely ate, and barely slept. Every morning she was nearly late, every morning she was panicked, and every day she wouldn't be seen for hours upon hours, only coming home in the late hours of the night, exhausted and dragging herself along the streets towards her home.
She was a performer
A musician
A royal pain in the flank in the mornings.
She was, without any reason of a doubt
The Mare they call Octavia.