The first thing Vinyl Scratch noticed when she departed the train from Canterlot, all those weeks ago, was not the pastel buildings, the beautiful countryside, or the tranquil ambiance of small-town ponies hustling and bustling to wherever small-town ponies went; no, the first thing she noticed was the same thing she always noticed whenever she got off of a train in Ponyville – the smell.
Nothing alerts one’s senses to a change of location than when the slightly hazy and populated air quality is replaced with that of home-grown work and farmland. It’s easy to close eyes to the sights, to fill heads with thoughts so loud that the outside noise disappears – it’s a bit harder to close nostrils.
The alabaster pony took a large gasp of air in, feeling herself breathe through her mouth for a couple moments. Stepping off of the train, Vinyl looked at the town before her through the tinted vision of her sunglasses. The train whistled behind her, the high-pitched sound having about as much direction as Vinyl’s hooves did – none.
Where the hell am I supposed to start?
* * *
Her manager was an idiot. How Record Label had even gotten past grade school was beyond her comprehension. Who expects an aspiring young artist to go out and actually research? Sure, she might’ve done it in her own time, when she felt like it – but she most certainly didn’t feel like it now, especially after somepony was telling her to do it.
And research all the wrong things. She was Vinyl Scratch! She was part of Canterlot’s largest underground music scene – she was aspiring to be more than just a DJ. She wanted to create, to craft, to bring beautiful music in the form of electronic wavelengths and mechanic sounds to her listeners. Heck, her neon-blue hair was practically a billboard for her desires!
Vinyl was electronica. Vinyl was dubstep. And, Vinyl was house music.
Folk was something Vinyl wasn’t. Folk wasn’t something a DJ put in their record collection. And folk wasn’t something you could really scratch on a turntable and make sound interesting.
“Artists need to explore different genres – they need to get out there and explore, see what other artists are doing,” Record Label had said, holding an apple in his hoof and gazing at it with the intensity of beam straight from the sun itself. “Sure, it may not be your music – but, an artist creates, remember? By looking at what everypony else is doing, you can ask yourself, ‘Why add to the sound when I can make a new one?’”
The expression her manager had received back was one of near-shock. And, two single syllables.
“But, folk.”
Record rolled his eyes. “Look beyond that, Vinyl. Look at the possibilities. Look at what you can create. Look at what you have created.”
Vinyl huffed in her seat. Record was thinking of her collaboration with the cellist, Octavia. ‘Tavi had been a friend of hers since high school – the classical/dubstep mix was just experimenting. She never figured ponies would actually take a liking to it.
But they had. And, they wanted more. Classical and dubstep was one thing – stringed instruments went surprisingly well with electronics.
Folk, however…
“So, yes, folk,” Record finished. “I know you can do it. That’s why I’ve already gotten you tickets to Ponyville to go find some up-and-coming folk artists. Learn, Vinyl. Explore.”
* * *
Yeah, right. The only thing there was to explore around here was the damned forest nopony was supposed to go near, and the possibilities of what her manager would be like if he hadn’t minored in philosophy.
Regardless, Vinyl was in Ponyville. Even if her manager’s idea was full of nonsense, the rational part of his mind had still accepted it.
And now, she stood outside the train station walking towards the town center, when the same thought that had hit her upon departure of the locomotive hit her once more. She had to go find up-and-coming folk artists.
Which means they weren’t discovered yet.
Which means she had to actually find them.
With only two saddlebags full of quills, a notepad, headphones and a stuffed animal, Vinyl Scratch stopped in the middle of town, amidst the throng of ponies going about their daily business.
Where the hell am I supposed to start?
The jingling of bits in her saddlebags reminded the pony that she had those, as well. And, besides buying albums, bits bought food and lodging.
Train seats weren’t very easy to sleep in, but the beds at the motel she had stayed in Ponyville once before, were.
Beds were also easy to think in.
As an artist, Vinyl Scratch felt there was no other place for that type of thing.
* * *
There were, however, other places for outrageous pricing. The Town Square Motel was not one of them.
“Whaddaya mean, ten bits a night?” Vinyl demanded to know. “That’s outrageous.”
The unicorn was on her hooves in the old hotel, built a couple years ago and held about that many ponies a night. A theme of pastel yellow and dark wood emanated from the place, in sharp contrast to the red and sky blue earth pony at the front desk, who at Vinyl’s question had shrugged. “I’m sorry, hon, but that’s just the way it is. Economy’s down; prices go up.”
The unicorn sighed. She would have enough for the hotel… barely… but, she wouldn’t be able to stay for long without having to find work somewhere. That wasn’t an option. She had a dream to follow, sure – she was already doing stupid stuff as it was by seeking out… folk artists. She really needed to find someplace to lie down and think.
This motel was the best in town, though… meaning there was only one other. The Inn Crowd. The DJ shuddered just thinking of the moldy, peeling linoleum of the public bathroom, not to mention the stains on the floor in every room.
Vinyl sighed. She’d complain to Record later.
“Alright, gimme a room.”
The front desk pony smiled and clapped her hooves together. “Splendid! It’s good to have you back, Miss – hey, didn’t I tell you, I don’t want those on my bulletin board?!”
The pony’s attention had quickly darted to something on the far side of the room. Vinyl followed the gaze to see an oddly familiar hot pink pony and a pastel yellow pegasus putting some paper up on a surface with a ton of other, differently colored papers. The Pegasus blushed furiously; the pink one merely gave a flat glance, one that embodied the concept of “whoops!” perfectly.
“Oops, sorry Ms. Keeper,” she said. “Totally slipped my mind. But, you know, Applejack really does need the money. And, nopony has taken up her offer yet. Can’t we just – “
“Absolutely not!” Ms. Keeper exclaimed. “Do you think I want advertisements for room and board in a place that offers just that?”
The pegasus scraped her hoof against the ground. “Pinkie, I told you this wasn’t the best spot…” she said softly.
Pinkie rolled her eyes. “Nonsense, Fluttershy. Ms. Keeper’s just being a bit too persnickety.”
“I am not being persnickety!” the innkeeper countered. “Just take the posters somewhere else!”
Ms. Keeper sighed, trying to regain control of the situation. She shook her head, gave a brief smile, and began speaking to Vinyl again. “I’m so sorry, madam – now, what were you…”
She trailed off; it appeared that she was now talking to the potted fern by the entrance.
In fact, her alabaster customer had completely left the building, following the other two colorful ponies. Apparently, a better offer had come up.
* * *
An hour or so later, a pink hoof knocked on the wooden door of a red country house just on the outskirts of Ponyville. The sun was beginning to dip in the Western sky, and one white unicorn was already beat.
The door opened with a slight creak, but not due to slowness – it was probably due to the age and weathered attributes the door consisted of, which was in the highest contrast to the pony that had opened it.
“Uh, hey Pinkie, Fluttershy,” the tangerine mare had said, looking with the shiniest emerald eyes from under her Stetson hat. “Who’s that ya got there with ya?”
Pinkie stepped aside, giving a grandiose wave of her arm as somepony unveiling a brand new carriage might. “Applejack, meet your new tenant!”
At the time, Vinyl Scratch had thought nothing of the greeting, of the moment that would play a pivotal role in her life – all she saw was a tough, fair-coated pony with an eye for hair bands, hats, and a face that’d probably make some stallion happy down the road, or at least one from her type of work. She locked her hidden-by-sunglasses eyes with the other’s, and there occurred a beating of butterfly wings in Vinyl’s stomach; she merely associated it with the nervousness that comes with meeting somepony new.
After a moment’s pause, the unicorn lent out a hoof, which the pony named Applejack took and shook with just as much moderate enthusiasm.
“Hello,” Vinyl said politely.
“Well, howdy,” Applejack returned. “Say, don’t I know you from somewhere?”
“Well, you should!” Pinkie interjected. “She’s Vinyl Scratch! You know, DJ-PON3? She’s the pony who DJ’ed that model show Rarity put on a couple months ago. Remember, that one with all the hideous – “
“Oh – oh, yes, I do remember now,” Applejack said, grinning in a manner that told Pinkie she’d rather not relive the memory.
Vinyl could understand the embarrassment. When she had figured out where she had met Pinkie and Fluttershy before, it was more of a laughably embarrassing one than a go-hide-from-the-world kind. But, it was understandable.
Applejack turned from Pinkie a moment to roll her eyes in disgust at the flashback, and then gave the new pony in front of her a once-over. “So, yer here fer… for the room?”
Vinyl nodded. “Yes, I’ve been told that there’s a room available for a while?”
“Well, Big Macintosh is off to Applegate University to study… the ‘Economic Probabilities of Empire Apples’…or, somethin’ like that.” She squinted her eyes and shook her head in such a manner that showed she really didn’t have a clue what that meant. “And, luckily, it ain’t harvest season, so I don’t necessarily need to hire a workin’ pony – but, I still need the income we woulda made if Big Macintosh was here. Farmin’ ain’t exactly cheap, you know?”
The DJ nodded sagely. “Well, that’s why I’m here – luckily for me, these two young ponies distracted my attention from the… now-highly-overpriced Town Square Motel to somewhere cheaper. N-not saying this place is really cheap… but, it’s not outrageous.”
Applejack pursed her lips. “Yeah, I hear the economy ain’t doin’ so good.”
“Well, you two have fun talking about money and living ‘n other stuff,” Pinkie once again interrupted, “but Fluttershy and I’ve gotta trot. We need to go to Sugarcube Corner and… do stuff other than talk about boring stuff.”
Vinyl chuckled as the three friends exchanged goodbyes, soon leaving the unicorn all alone with Applejack on the front porch of their house.
After a moment of awkward silence, Applejack rocked back and forth on her front hooves and said, “Yeah, I guess money ain’t ‘xactly the most interestin’ topic. We can talk about it later. So, you takin’ the room?”
“I plan on it, yeah,” Vinyl said, “Though, I don’t think I should be staying for long. I’m only here to do music-y stuff, which I’m hoping shouldn’t take as long as my manager seems to think it’ll take.”
“Alright then.” The pony didn’t exactly look interested or knowledgeable on the subject, but Applejack put a hoof out anyway. “Why don’t we shake on it, make it official?”
Vinyl looked at the hoof in front of her. She only hesitated for a moment before putting her own alabaster hoof to it and sealed the deal.
“Well, there we go!” Applejack exclaimed. “Here, let’s go inside and get ya settled. Is that all ya have with ya?”
The earth pony held the wooden door open. Vinyl exhaled and said, “Yeah, I tend not to bring much when I travel.”
With the door wide open, Vinyl Scratch walked into the Apple Family home and set foot in it for the very first time. The welcome mat was made of carpet, unlike the rest of the hard, wooden hallway – it had a nice, soft feel to it. Picture frames lined the faded green halls, showing the rest of the yet-to-be-seen Apple Family making memories meant to last a lifetime.
“’Room’s upstairs,” Applejack said, motioning a hoof, as she waited at the foot of the staircase.
The DJ looked at this pony for a moment. Here she was, a total stranger – and this Applejack was making her feel right at home and took her offer right up in five minutes. She had compassion, Vinyl gave her that. She also must’ve had some faith in ponykind, to let someone in without so much as going into too much questioning. Was it always like this, here in Ponyville? The unicorn knew Canterlot was pretty shady most of the time, even when you weren’t under the trees that lined the streets.
Aside from the out-of-place accent, Vinyl felt that this mare might grown on her. She seemed like somepony everypony would want as their friends.
When Vinyl reached the foot of the stair case, crossing over the long carpet that had been laid down upon the wood, Applejack continued walking up the stairs, heading towards the room the unicorn would soon stay in. A little bit curious, and all the while a little bit annoyed at herself, Vinyl really took in the sight of her new landlord – especially at her body, at the way she moved, and, of course, at her flanks.
Eh. She was alright.