“We have been Demoniac, and thank you for quite the bucking night!” Says Lindsay Dawson, lead vocalist and main bassist of Demoniac, while brushing his long, brown mane out of his eyes. His gray coat matches his hat that he had on. He takes his sunglasses off and says,”We shall go!”
Heading backstage, Hoofman Li joins him, he is a unicorn with a long, black mane, a tan coat, and some slited eyes. “I’m tired of singing these lyrics we don’t mean, everypony mistakes us for nazis, we’re not.”
“Hey, Demoniac has been fairly successful, plus, it’s pretty cool...” Diccon Lyre says, while flying in the air. His mane is a vicious shade of red, his coat is green, and he has a slight goatee.
“Fairly successful in what sense of the word?” Says Sam Trotman, holding a glass of hard cider,”We’re just a famous local band, it’s not like anypony will miss us.” He is a clean-shaven unicorn, and red with a long, black mane.
“We’re... alright,” Matej Setnic finally says, his mane is long and flame orange. His eyes appeared slightly sunken.
“Be our guest, Demoniac has never held a lineup for a year,” says Lindsay,”what’s one more?”
“All in favor of starting our own band, say aye,” Hoofman says.
Sam, Diccon, and Matej raise their hooves and say,”Aye!”
“Missing four might be a bit extreme, so why don’t we just split up?” Lindsay says.
“Sure, I’ll keep in touch, I’m just so happy I have another band to take a part in!” Diccon says.
“So, who’s on what?” Hoofman asks.
“Drums,” says Matej.
“Bass,” says Diccon.
“Guitar!” Yells Hoofman and Sam simultaneously.
“Wait, you both want to play guitar?” Lindsay says.
“How... will that work?” Matej says quietly.
After a long, hard moment of thinking, Hoofman comes up with an idea,”We’ll have two guitarists! We’ll trade off between rhythm and lead. After all, I want to stick with Sam here.”
“Great, where are we going to discuss the need for a vocalist?” Sam states.
“My house, in about an hour, sound alright?”
“I’ll be there,” Sam says.
Sam knocks on Hoofman’s door, and Hoofman answers. Surveying the room around him, Sam notices a typewriter, and amp, and an electric guitar.
“Hey Sam, we’re here on business, how do we suppose we get a vocalist?”
“Don’t think we’re still not friends Hoofman, we’ve been in Demoniac for 3 years together.”
“I know, but we really need to discuss our new band.” Hoofman said.
“Let’s see, ideas, ideas, hold on, Hoofman, do you know how much a newspaper ad costs?”
“About 50 bits, why?”
“Well, we have a binary typewriter, and we have a good sum of bits, so we can make an ad.”
“Sure, let’s post it, I’ll do it later, but since I don’t want to waste an entire minute here, we should do something.”
Sam got out some hard cider,”How about we talk?”
After talking, Sam and Hoofman returned to their homes, a couple days later, they got a reply from somepony called ‘ZP Theart’. He clarified that his name was actually ZP. They agreed to meet at the New London Cafè. Soon, they arrive.
“I’ll just have a cup of coffee,” Hoofman tells the waitress.
“As will I,” says Sam.
“I wonder when ZP will get here, we agreed to meet 10 minutes ago.”
“Perhaps he had better things to do?” Sam asks.
“Maybe...” Hoofman says.
Just then, a pony waring a trenchcoat and sunglasses walks in. He requests the table with Sam and Hoofman.
“So you’re ZP?” Hoofman asks.
“Gee, inconspicuous much?” Sam snarks.
“Yes, I am ZP,” ZP says.
“May I ask why you’re wearing a trenchcoat and glasses?” Hoofman asks.
“Do you have a legion of fans you’re hiding from?” Sam says.
“Well, I’m from South Africa...”
“So you’re a zebra,” Sam states bluntly.
“Exactly, and there’s more speicieist ponies here than I’d like to admit.”
“Luckily, we don’t give a damn, care to show us what you look like?” Hoofman says.
“Only if we’re in private, also, in case you haven’t garnered, I’d like to be the vocalist for your band, what’s its name by the way?”
Hoofman cringes at the statement,”We don’t have one.”
“That’s fine.”
The waitress comes up to the table and gives Sam and Hoofman their drinks,”Here are your drinks sirs, and may I ask why that pony is wearing a trenchcoat and sunglasses?”
“It’s a long story, do you want to hear it?” Hoofman asks with a smirk.
“I’m sure I have time, it can’t be that long.”
“You see, way back when I was a little bitty boy, living in a box under the stairs in the corner of the basement...” Hoofman starts.
The waitress, having heard that song before, promptly left.
“So, do you guys even have a band setup?” ZP asks.
“Hau, not quite yet,” Hoofman says,”we do have two guitarists, a drummer, and a bassist, you should complete the lineup.”
“Very well, I will keep in touch, I hope you make a great band.”
Hoofman was trotting around Sam’s house,”What should we call this thing, all the good names are taken! What’s a good name for a power metal band?”
“Beats me.”
“To top it off, we got a letter from Matej saying he wanted to persue his studies in Czechoslovakia, whatever the buck that means!”
“Perhaps he just wanted to, you know, actually get some education instead of starting a black metal band at 14 who got told off for appearing pro-nazi?”
“You did that!” Hoofman says.
Sam facehoofs.
“Look, we’ll send out another ad in the paper looking for a drummer, and maybe they’ll have an idea.”
Hoofman agrees, after all, they had to get somewhere.
“What kind of a bucking name is ‘Didier Almounzi’?” Hoofman asks, walking towards the New London Café.
“A Prench one,” Sam responds dryly.
“We’ll just meet him at the New London Cafè, hopefully he won’t show up in disguise.” Hoofman says.
When they arrive at the café, Hoofman walks up to the cashier.
“Oh, you’re Hoofman Li and Sam Trotman, we got a big fan of Demoniac who rolled through here he was some Prench ‘Didier Almounzi’,” she says.
“Will you direct us to his table?” Hoofman asks.
“Sure right over there,” she says, pointing a hoof at a gray earth pony with a long brown mane. He’s glacing at his watch as if they’re incredibly late.
Hoofman and Sam trot over to Didier and take a seat. When the waitress comes by to take their order, Hoofman orders a coffee, and Sam orders a hard cider.
The silence is awkward when all of the sudden, Didier breaks it,”We’re here on business, my claim, plain and simple is that I want to join your band.”
“We know this Didier, we need a drummer.”
“I know, and I will provide, I also have someone else.”
“For what? We don’t need any other ponies in our band,” Hoofman says, with Sam coughing quietly at the mention of the band being all ponies.
“A keyboardist, Steve Williams, I’m here on his behalf.”
“The more the merrier right?” Hoofman says.
“Also, Steve is heavily specieist, so, keep that in mind.”
Hoofman and Sam cringe. “Well, as long as you want the spot, you can have it, Steve can too.”
Hoofman and Sam leave the café after receiving their drinks,”We’re bucking screwed, aren’t we?” Hoofman says.
“You don’t say,” Sam replies.
With a full group under their belts, Hoofman and Sam go on to rent a studio. After finding a medium-sized studio to play in, they send letter to all of the members, asking to meet at the studio to record their first demo. They'd be something yet.