So, I stumble out of Potbelly’s looking remarkably drunk. Holding an acoustic in my hoof.
Wait.
How am I holding an acoustic guitar in my fucking hoof?
My best guess is that my feeling of having four fretting fingers just extends to my hoof as well.
Oh well, I have better things to do than ponder how the hell weird pony biology works.
Well, at least the sun’s up, giving me a beautiful view of the glorified Newgrounds animation I landed in. Tree line the streets, ponies still chat amongst themselves, a mailmare (that’s what they’d be called, right?) delivering mail yet very clumsily running into mailboxes. She must be like Travis Miles in Fallout 4, the mailmare because no one else is. She obviously isn’t qualified.
There doesn’t appear to be a road. So, not only do these ponies not know the Blues, but they don’t understand how basic construction works. At least besides making the exact same house design several times over, which isn’t exactly how basic construction works either.
Focus, John. I need to find a radio to understand why exactly ponies don’t know the Blues. Especially not a classic such as Goodnight, Irene.
So, while I’m looking around taking in all the scenery, I seem to find a place that appears to be the main square.
There’s a staue of what I can only assume to be God-pony in the center. A fountain no less. This God-pony is a Unicorn and a Pegasus simultaneously, and appears to have long flowing hair and is on her rear legs in what I can only assume to be a victory pose.
I won’t try that because, I can barely walk, I hardly have a prayer of actually standing up. Hopefully, the ponies at least had upright basses so I could get someone else to play the classic basslines. God knows I can’t.
So, I’m so fixated on the God-pony fountain, surrounded by houses in almost tranquil peace that I donkt notice the dozens of ponies who were waiting there to jump me. I get closer to the fountain, hoping to sit and think about this pony anomaly for a while—
“SURPRISE!”
I’m just next to the fountain when every fucking pony in town gives me a heart attack. I drop my guitar, and it makes a weird noise. Did acoustic guitars have feedback in this world? Add that to the list of,”What the hell is going on”.
The pink lifeform detector leads the assault on my quiet thoughts.
How’d she get here? I don’t have time to think of anything else because she starts talking like Sonic the
Hedgehog on crack. I think she was talking so fast she’d put Raining Blood’s ending to shame.
“Hello! You’re new here! My name is Pinkie Pie and welcome to your Ponyville welcome party! I wanted to throw it in your house but you don’t have one, so I move it to the main square so that we can all party in happiness! What’s your name?” she exclaims faster than a speeding bullet.
I blink a couple times, trying to comprehend what the hell that pink thing just said. So, her name’s Pinkie Pie, I’m in Ponyville, and she’s insane, well, two things I didn’t know weren’t bad I guess.
Blinking once more, I deadpan,”John Mercury.”
“Welcome to Ponyville, Mercury! We have a library a boutique a farm and a school!”
Wait, why do you need a—“ I try to butt in. Pinkie Pie (or so she says) interrupts my interruption. How rude.
“Nice to meet you! Where you from? Yakyakistan? The Crystal Empire? Canterlot? Oh, you’re probably from Canterlot!”
“Chicago,” I retort slowly.”In America. Also, why the fuck does everyone keep calling me Mercury? Oh yeah, do you have a radio?”
May I add that this entire time, Pinkie is staring directly at me. Making me uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. She has no respect for personal boundaries, I swear.
“One radio, coming right up!” Pinkie shrieks. She then proceeds to reach her hoof(!) in her hair and pull out an old transistor radio.
So, Pinkie can not only talk people’s ear off, plan parties, and detect any lifeform, but she also has a pocket dimension in her hair. Excuse me what the fuck.
The radio’s old, it’s beaten up. However, I turn it on and fiddle with the dial.
Finding a suitable radio station based in Canterlot (talk about a ridiculous range. I could barely get radio stations based in the other end of Chicago. Canterlot could be a hundred miles away for what I knew), I set it up and give it a listen.
“This is DJ Pon3,” the very feminine and raspy DJ says,”and you are listening to the best music of every era! Don’t turn the dial, next up, March of the Parasprites!”
Great, this is exactly what I needed. I crank the radio up and examine everything around me.
Pinkie really outdid herself in the half an hour from when I met her to now. There were festivities, a ton of cider, and just in general a lot of fucking ponies. Can’t say I’ve ever played ‘Pin The Tail on the Pony’, but the rest seemed alright. Of course, this was all set up in the plaza.
I’m a little concerned that I didn’t notice any of this before. But oh well.
“Now, Mercury, if you’re ready, let’s get ready to party!” Pinkie shrieks, and throws a ton of confetti that was apparently in her pocket dimension.
The party went on. I do have to say, for being planned by an insane creature, it was alright. However, something was very off about the radio. Despite DJ Pon3 claiming she played ‘music of all eras’, I heard no Bohemian Rhapsody, no Yesterday, no Come Together, not even any I Will Wait.
“So, Pinkie,” I say, not because I trusted her, but because she was the only pony who’s name I actually knew.
Upon my beck and call, she appears to warp directly next to me. Scaring me into dropping my drink. What the hell.
“Yes? As the person who this party is being planned for, you should get every question answered, of course!”
“So, where’s the Queen on the radio, where’s the Otis Redding, the Mumford & Sons, The Beatles?” I ask.
Pinkie stares directly at me and turns her head a full 90 degrees. Which looks very painful.
“Silly!” she says,”We don’t have those musicians! You can ask Twilight over there if you’re concerned.”
She points her hoof over to the corner where a lavender God-pony is reading a book by herself. I stumble over there.
“Hey, Twilight,” I say.”I have a quick question.”
Twilight screams as she drops her book from what appears to be a telekinetic grip. She looks at me like I’m something she’s never observed before.
“So, Pinkie directed me over here, I just have to ask. What’s with the music? Why is there no Queen, Beatles, ZZ Top, or whatever?”
Twilight appears to go into a state of complete and total inner panic.
“Oh Celestia, is there something that I don’t know? I’ve read all about Equestria’s music, did I miss something? What kind pf a Princess does that make me? One who doesn’t know her stuff? What about...”
“Calm, down,” I say, sternly.”This isn’t your fault.”
“But what if it is? What if I missed a book in my library?”
Another crazy pony and a complete lack of any leads on my music causes me to just release all of my pent-up anger.
“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY MUSIC?!” I shout.
That gets everyone interested. Now, they all look at me like I’m about to give an urgent speech. I feel a bead of sweat drip down my nose.
“Well,” Twilight begins,”if you’re so mad about your music, why don’t you show us to see if we remember?”
That is actually a good idea. I dash back to get my guitar, and lay my hoof on the strings. Since it sufficed to impress Potbelly, I think that it could impress the entire damn town of Ponyville. I was about ready for my first Equestrian gig.
“So, I don’t know how the hell Pinkie managed to herd you all in here,” I begin, as if I had a microphone laying right in front of me,”but I have just come to the conclusion that nobody knows what the Blues are. So, I’m here to play Goodnight, Irene by Leadbelly.”
I launch into another faithful rendition of the song. This time, I include twice as much growl as I’ve ever done performing the song back on Earth.
After I’m finished, the entire town is dead silent. I think they’re speechless in awe, not because I did a bad job.
After excruciating seconds sweating in the hypothetical limelight, I hear a lone voice. A distinctive British one. Very posh. Looking down, I see that it belongs to a grey pony who even looks the part of the orchestral snob. She’ even wearing a bowtie collar!
“Mercury was it? Well, we have to get you to Canterlot right away. Vinyl will love that song.”
I don’t know who Vinyl is. However, I’ll accept that as praise.
It seems that everybody there agrees, as they stomp their hooves in response to the mare.
Twilight walks up to me,”We’re getting you on a train to Canterlot right now.”
Well, I know why Potbelly was so impressed. I’m also fairly certain that I know what my Equestrian calling is now. I need to remake the legendary music of the past. All of it. I might as well start with the Blues.