Special Thanks to:
Editor: DaMobbs
Proofreader: Meeester
*****
Growing used to the Pink Pony I see? Hah hah hah! I still can’t believe you didn’t notice her sitting on your head the whole time. I mean, she had to weigh something right? This party pony confuses even me sometimes.
…..
You’re confused too? Glad to see I’m not the only one. This mare seems to be in a never-ending sugar rush of epic proportions the likes I have never seen before. Those types tend to be trouble though. Back when I was younger, there was this cute mare in middle school I used to see. She was always smiling, never letting anything take her—
…..
No one cares about me? Now that’s just plain rude. I’m going out of my way to help you regain your memories, and you have the nerve to interrupt my own personal flashback? Didn’t we go over this before!? When one is telling their life story, you sit there and listen; I learned that the hard way with a few mares. Have you ever been stomped to death? Let me tell you, it’s not a pretty sight.
…..
Yes, I got beat up by a few mares. You got a problem with that? I can just, you know, get up and leave you here all alone and clueless.
…..
Yeah, I thought so. Now shut up, pay attention, and you might actually learn something.
*****
Chapter 6: Tips
You yawned loudly as your mind returned to the land of the living. Sunlight poured through the blinds of the window, illuminating the rest of your somewhat meager apartment. Reluctantly, you pulled yourself up from the comfortable mattress and went about your morning rituals. You sat on the couch and reveled in the afterglow of sleep still lingering, your mind floating about freely. Yesterday certainly was interesting to say the least; going to Sugarcube Corner, meeting that crazy pink mare, attending the surprise party, playing music at said party, and to top it all off, finding out that she can play a mean piano.
You couldn’t recall the last time you played with somepony that talented since… well, never. She earned your respect last night, even if she did rub you the wrong way most of the time.
Still, it didn’t change much with what you wanted to do with your life. Even though you came to Ponyville to relax, you didn’t have an exact goal or a plan laid out for when you arrived. It kept things fresh and made everyday a new adventure. However, that didn’t mean you could just forget the bare necessities.
In other words, money.
While you were sure you could pay the rent for a couple more months, you needed a steady job to supplement your current savings, hopefully one that suited your talents. You didn’t know how many businesses in this quaint town were looking for a jazz musician. On your way in, you also didn’t see any kind of concert hall either so it ruled out that avenue of potential business. However, there was always that.
Decided, you picked your trusty top hat off the nightstand, threw it on your head, and pulled out Brass from the closet. From what you learned in the past, most ponies preferred Brass over Silver. Throwing it on your back, you inwardly sighed as its weight was a constant reassurance. You heard somepony say once that having an inanimate friend was weird, but you could care less.
Your stomach growled, reminding you of the fact that you were about to skip on breakfast. Grabbing an apple off the counter, you bit off a chunk as you strode out the door and into Ponyville.
*****
It was a beautiful morning. You walked down the street and took a deep breath of the fresh, flower-scented air, something you couldn’t do back in Canterlot. Before you knew it, you found yourself at the entrance to the square. Ponies were trotting through, most likely running errands or working. Set up in regular intervals were a hoofful of merchant stands and carts, each pedalling their wares to the ponies passing by. All in all, it was pretty crowded.
You weren’t surprised at how busy it was though. It was a spectacular morning, and it seemed everypony was out and about; the perfect time for a entertainer to make some bits. You shrugged as you walked around the square, looking for something to supplement that apple. After all, an apple wasn’t going to satisfy your appetite.
A heavenly aroma floated through the air as you walked deeper into the square. Pancakes, bagels, donuts, and fruits were only a few of the smells you could parse out from the air. It made your stomach growl loudly in anticipation.
You opened your bit pouch and frowned. With only a few meager bits to your name, anything substantially filling was off the table. You sighed as you tipped your hat forward and looked around at all of the ponies mulling about the stands.
There were a good few, and it didn’t seem like they were leaving anytime soon, since the majority of the ponies hadn’t even finished setting up yet. Some looked bored while others were starting up some small talk to pass the time. Other ponies might have seen this as a normal morning in Ponyville.
You took this as an opportunity.
A quick lap around the square and you had the perfect spot picked out: just in range of the entrances and the majority of the stalls. You took off your hat and placed it upside down on the ground before unclasping the latches on Brass’s case. Street performances had saved you on many occasion when you were low on bits and needed an extra bump to get you through to the next paycheck. You’d think that playing for street tips in the city of Canterlot would be worthwhile, but it always proved fruitless. You got ugly sneers and boos whenever you played, so for the sake of keeping the peace, you refused to do so for the rest of your music career.
But here in Ponyville, it was going to be different. You didn’t know what made you believe that, but you could feel it deep down.
You leaned your back against a wall and placed the mouthpiece into your mouth. You eyed everyone carefully. They hadn’t noticed your presence yet.
Good.
You blew into the mouthpiece as your hooves flew over the levers and valves on the long and smooth, brass metal neck of the sax. You began with a slow tune, building into a quick, upbeat jazzy solo that danced through the air and out into the square. You scanned around, watching as everypony in the vicinity turned their head at the new sound. A few passing ponies actually stopped and listened before starting off again, this time with a noticeable skip in their step.
When it came to a crowd, you wanted everypony to nod along with the music, to dance to it, to entwine them in the rhythm. Having fun while doing so helped you relax which in turn made you perform even better. It was a good loop that you loved about playing.
One by one, ponies wandered over. Soon, there were over a dozen ponies clustered around, each listening in rapt attention. You smirked as you played. The ponies in front of you differed completely in color and cutie marks. You saw one that was purplish in color and had grapes for a cutie mark, and a bright cyan Unicorn with a Lyre or a Harp as a cutie mark.
Regardless, all sorts of different ponies had listened to you play, and they were smiling and nodding their heads around, clearly enjoying themselves. If that wasn’t a clear sign, then the muffled clinks of bits striking your hat was.
You finished off your performance with a frighteningly fast solo, your hooves shooting over the levers as fast as lightning. It caught some ponies off guard, but their speechless looks gave away what they were truly feeling.
After that, silence fell. You placed the sax down on your case and took a bow but something felt off. You chanced a glance to find that everypony was staring at you in awe. At first you thought you had misjudged your ability and thought everyone was disgusted by your performance.
An ecstatic applause exploded a moment later, rivaling that of last night’s, utterly destroying your pessimism.
“Wow, that was amazing!”
“Simply phenomenal!”
“I want to hear more!”
You stood up from your bow and took in the flowing praise from your audience. The fact that they wanted an encore also meant more tips, and who were you to tell them no more? With a small laugh, you picked up the saxophone and readied yourself for another bout. A hush befell the crowd as the mouthpiece touched your lips.
Just like old times.
Before you could take that starting breath, however, a familiar, yet obnoxious, voice shot out through the silence.
“Oooh, you can play the sax too, Mr. Top Hat!? I had no idea! You’re like some saxotrumpet whatchamajigga! Or a trumpophone!”
You face-hoofed as a cotton-candy-pink mane bounced through the surrounding audience. She popped out the front, her face as cheery as it was last night.
“What are you doing out here anyway? I had no idea you would play in the streets!”
You explained to her that you were playing for tips today, accidentally letting slip that it was for food. Pinkie gave you that confused look.
“You can’t afford breakfast?”
You shook your head and before you could offer a rebuttal, she had taken your hoof and pulled you along behind her. You scooped up your top hat as she pulled you along, not wanting to lose both your hat and earnings. Despite her eagerness to get you somewhere fast, you managed to eek out a question as to where you were going and what she was going to do to you.
“I’m taking you to Sugarcube Corner, silly! We’ve got tons of food there, and I’m sure the Cakes wouldn’t mind either! Nopony with that much musical talent should go hungry! Not on my watch!”
You went a bit wide-eyed as what she was saying sunk in. She was going out of her way to give you a free meal. Nopony had done that before. However, that didn’t mean you could just leave the generous audience hanging. You told Pinkie to let go for a moment, and she actually did. With a quick apology, you told the crowd you’d be here ripe and early tomorrow morning for another show. The crowd voiced their disappointment, but you re-assured them you’d play longer and maybe even take requests.
With that said and done, Pinkie resumed her stranglehold of your forehoof and dragged you toward your awaiting breakfast. You could see the dancing donuts already.
*****
You were flabbergasted.
There you were, sitting at the kitchen table inside the bakery, waiting for Pinkie Pie to rustle up some breakfast entirely gratis. It wasn’t often that you got a free meal and the fact of the matter was that this crazy mare was eager and willing to do so.
“It’s ready~!” she sang.
She turned the corner with a rather plain-looking cherry pie. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, you explained to her that breakfast meant actual breakfast food and not desert. She broke out in a fit of giggles.
“Don’t be silly, silly! It’s not just any pie… it’s a cherry-filled pie! Here, let me show you.”
She pulled out a knife from her mane and sliced the pie with the tip of the edge. By now, you wouldn’t be surprised if she pulled out a pipe organ from there. Anyway, you assumed that if it was a cherry-filled pie, it wouldn’t be all that bad to have for breakfast. It wasn’t unheard of, but such sweets weren’t the ideal breakfast food.
Oh how right you were.
As soon as the blade broke the pie’s surface, it jiggled slightly. You raised a brow at this, and Pinkie merely ooh’d at the event. She poked at it with the knife this time, eliciting another jiggle from the dessert turned breakfast. All of a sudden, she threw up her hooves and ran away, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“It’s the killer cherry pie! Run for your lives!” The only thing left after that was a pink cloud shaped like a pony and the flapping of the door leading out of the kitchen. In fact, she wasn’t screaming out of fear, but screaming out of hilarity. No matter what she did, she always confused the living daylights out of you.
Now that that distraction was out of the way, you brought your attention back to the jiggling, cherry-filled abomination. You grabbed the leftover knife that Pinkie had left behind on her retreat. Hesitantly, you poked the pie with the sharp end. This time it seemed to avoid the edge, ever so slightly morphing around it. Okay, now you were just seeing things. As you sliced it down the middle, the pie jiggled furiously, as if it didn’t like being cut.
It exploded in your face.