The Blueblood Tapes
Transcript: First Broadcast
[Crackling sound is heard over the transmission.]
Trixie: No, no, you idiot! That wire connects here!
Blueblood: How would you know? You lost the instructions!
Trixie: All things bow before the magic of Trixie, machines included!
Blueblood: Machines don’t bow.
Trixie: Maybe to YOU they don’t. Now connect that wire!
Blueblood: Why am I listening to you anyway? I’m the Prince and I say we should connect it here--
[Loud electrical shock.]
Blueblood: GAH! Peasant technology!
Trixie: See?
Blueblood: Who invented this contraption?! I’ll have him deported for this!
Trixie: For what? Inventing something that shocked you?
Blueblood: Yes.
Trixie: Ugh! Just let me do it!
[Clattering is heard over transmission as wires and scraps of metal are being moved around.]
Trixie: AHA! There! See, it’s easy if you’re the Great and Powerful Trixie. It’s a shame you don’t qualify ...
Blueblood: Hmph! Such manual labor is far beneath my station!
Trixie: We wouldn’t have had to do it if you just brought some servants over.
Blueblood: I would have, but when I ask them to do things like this, they just start going on about things like “overtime pay” and “unionization” and “child labor laws,” it’s all very boring. It’s easier just to do it myself. Honestly, I’d much rather be doing this than mining spice ... [Sigh.] Which reminds me, I have to be at work in a few hours.
Trixie: You know, if you hate working in the spice mines, why don’t you just ... quit?
Blueblood: [Shocked.] And admit there was something I can’t do? Never! Besides ... Auntie Celestia told me to do it and ... I’d rather not make Auntie angry again.
Trixie: Hmm ... Trixie is not sure whether to respect your determination ... or pity your cowardice.
Blueblood: My Auntie once crushed chaos itself. Think about that before you call me a coward.
Trixie: Psh! Such a feat is nothing to the Great and Powerful Trixie. Trixie can fight chaos, darkness, and any other abstract concepts with one hoof tied behind her back! [Pause.] Hmm ... I think we should be transmitting now.
Blueblood: Oh, really? Hm ... perhaps we should test it ... [Clears throat.] Testing ... testing ... 1, 2, 3, obey ...
Trixie: [Chuckle.] Amateur. Let me handle this ...
[Clears throat, scoots mike to her.]
Trixie: [Whisper.] Hello, Equestria. Do you know who this is? You should. [Slowly rising voice.] This is the voice of one who has learned the true name of a thousand beasts. This is the voice of the hero who tamed a dragon with but a stare, defeated the cockatrice of Everfree Forest, and felled a deadly manticore! This is the graceful, elegant champion who saved Ponyville from an Ursa Major! This is the rising star, the thunderbolt, the shout in the dark! Nothing like Trixie has ever graced your ears before and nothing will again!
[Loud electrical shocks are heard as lightning dances off Trixie’s horn into the radio console.]
Blueblood: GAH!
Trixie: I am GREAT.
[Loud crack of thunder.]
Trixie: I am POWERFUL.
[Thunderclap.]
Trixie: I. AM. TRIXIE! AND NATIONAL PONY RADIO IS LIVE! [As loud electrical shocks are heard in the background.] Hahahahahahahaha AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
[Laughing falters, as does the sound of electricity. Trixie clears her throat.]
Trixie: Test complete.
Blueblood: ... whoa.
Trixie: Whoa is right.
Blueblood: That was ... that was impressive. [Cheery.] I don’t even mind the ... strong smoking smell that’s coming from the console after you did that.
Trixie: Psh! This console is made of stronger stuff than that.
[Trixie bangs hoof on the console.]
[Loud clattering sound followed loud electrical sound.]
Blueblood: Er ... is it supposed to make that sound?
Trixie: Um ... sure, why not? [Nervous chuckle.]
[More clattering, followed by loud whoomph as console is engulfed in flames.]
Trixie: ... oh my.
[Fire alarm goes off.]
Blueblood: FIRE!
[Flames crackling gets louder.]
Trixie: Uh oh. [Oddly calm.] Perhaps we should ... reschedule this ...
Blueblood: [Yelling in the background.] Quick! We need to smother the flames with something! Get me a blanket! Or an Earth pony!
Trixie: Well um ...
[Flames getting louder.]
Trixie: We’re having some technical difficulties right now. We’ll be right back ... huh ... I wonder if this thing is still transmit-
[Loud static.]
[End transmission].
The Vinyl Scratch Tapes Season 2
Second Transcript: The Band Ensemble Interview
[What follows is a transcript of broadcast 2F08 of the Vinyl Scratch, roughly one week after the second call-in show and several hours after the first transmission from the Prince Blueblood’s “National Pony Radio.”]
DJ-P0n3: It’s that time again! Turn all the speakers up to 11, break out the drums and the electric guitars because we are the spark that lights up the morning! This is ... the Vinyl Scratch!
[Record scratch.]
DJ-P0n3: That’s right, the number one talk show in Equestria that DOESN’T accidentally set itself on fire!
Octavia: Most of the time.
DJ-P0n3: As always, I am your host, the Alluring Artist herself, DJ-P0n3! And with me is my co-host, the best cello player I’ve ever seen, Octavia.
Octavia: I’m the only cello player you’ve ever seen, Vinyl.
DJ-P0n3: Right. So it’s true.
Octavia: Well ... yes, but--
DJ-P0n3: Anyway! We have some big news on today’s show, but first, I might as well talk about what everypony’s wondering about. I’m sure a few of you listeners heard that other garbled radio station earlier this morning ... turns out the Prince wasn’t just talking out of his rear when he said he was making a radio station. We’ll have more on that as it develops ... assuming, you know, their station isn’t still on fire.
Octavia: His co-host reminds me of somepony ...
DJ-P0n3: Hm? What do you mean?
Octavia: Well, let’s see ... she’s obnoxious ...
DJ-P0n3: Yeah?
Octavia: She has an ego the size of the moon ...
DJ-P0n3: Uh huh?
Octavia: And she’s a gigantic hammy unicorn who seems to crave any attention from everypony?
DJ-P0n3: Soooo?
Octavia: This ... you don’t see any similarities between her and somepony else our listeners might be familiar with?
[Pause.]
DJ-P0n3: ... Harpo?
Octavia: No it’s not Harp-- you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?
DJ-P0n3: [Grinning.] When am I not?
Octavia: Point taken.
DJ-P0n3: But enough about that! I have much more important news! You might recall last week I helped manage Octavia and her ensemble’s most recent show. Well, it was a big hit!
Octavia: It ... it was a good show, yes.
DJ-P0n3: Octy’s just being modest. Now, not that I’m the type of pony to brag or anything ...
Octavia: Oh, here we go ...
DJ-P0n3: But they are bigger than Celestia now!
Octavia: [Sigh.] I think that’s a bit much, but ... it was a good show.
DJ-P0n3: Yep! In fact, it was so good they’ve been getting fan-mail pouring in non-stop! [Drops a heavy sack of papers by the console.] This one sack is just what came in this morning! [Cheery.] Hey Octy, is it okay if I go through your mail?!
Octavia: Well--
DJ-P0n3: Okay, thanks! [Starts rooting around through papers.] As I was saying, Octavia’s been getting tons of fan mail! And not just the usual letters with ponies asking to marry her!
Octavia: I’m positive most of those were written by you.
DJ-P0n3: And you never replied back! [Mock despair.] How could you leave me out there, alone, in the cold?! Jilted! Shunned! How will I go on?! How?!
Octavia: ... are you done?
DJ-P0n3: That depends. Have I won an acting award yet?
Octavia: No.
DJ-P0n3: Then no. [Switching back to fake despair.] WHYYYYYY?
[Octavia stifles her laughing.]
Octavia: Seriously though, we should get to the point.
DJ-P0n3: Well, a lot of the letters we’ve been getting are business related. Awesome stuff like billboards ... gigs ... record deals ... and at least one letter wanting to make a comic book where you and your ensemble drive in a van and solve mysteries.
Octavia: What do solving mysteries have to do with music anyway?
DJ-P0n3: What don’t they have to do with it?
Octavia: ... that’s so stupid I don’t know how to respond.
DJ-P0n3: Hurray, that means I win by default! But anyway, I figure since I’ve been helping the ensemble more, I figure it’s appropriate we have a proper interview with the other members of Octavia’s quartet. Trust me, with all of our powers combined, we’re gonna be big. Bigger than cheesy pizza crust! Let’s bring them in!
[Door opens, hoofsteps into the studio.]
DJ-P0n3: Alright! Let’s just introduce them one at a time. First, we have the piano player and lead composer. He’s been called one of the most talented piano players in Equestria, has won several Fancies for his solo work, and he’s an eligible bachelor. Please welcome, Frédéric Horseshoepin.
Frédéric: Charmed. Though I’m not quite sure why it was necessary to mention I was a bachelor.
DJ-P0n3: I’m just trying to help you out, Freddy! Trust me, I know a thing or two about what fillies are looking for. And you’ve got the whole package! You’re cultured, you’re sensitive, you’ve got ... white hair which makes you look distinguished even if you’re not. I mean, you could just sit in a chair and eat out of a can of beans with a spoon, and you’d still look dapper. You just got to put yourself on the market!
Frédéric: You make it sound as if I’m a slab of meat to be put on display.
DJ-P0n3: Yes, that’s exactly how it works!
Octavia: How romantic.
DJ-P0n3: Aww, don’t worry Octy. You’ll always be my slab of meat!
Octavia: Um ... thanks. I ... think?
DJ-P0n3: Next up, we have the sousaphone player and close personal friend of Octy. You may remember her from the concert we did where she was locked in the bathroom by a certain Prince Blueblood, who shall remain anonymous. She’s a lot of fun to be around! Please welcome, Beauty Brass.
Beauty Brass: HI EVERYPONY!
[Horribly loud electrical feedback.]
DJ-P0n3: AHH!
Octavia: Umm... Beauty? You don’t have to yell into the microphone.
Beauty Brass: REALLY? [Loud feedback.] Um ... I mean ... really?
Octavia: Um ... let’s just scoot the mic a bit farther away.
Beauty Brass: THAT’S A GOOD IDEA! IT’S always hard to ADJUST AFTER PRACTICING!
Octavia: Hehe ... sorry, Vinyl. You’ll get used to that eventually.
Beauty Brass: I’M SORRY!
DJ-P0n3: No, I like that! I like loud stuff! I mean, after all, I blast loud rock n’ roll and techno all the time. The loudest music is always the most popular, so, logically, being loud is just ... cool.
Octavia: There was nothing resembling logic in--
Beauty Brass: [Big smile.] HOORAY, I’M POPULAR!
DJ-P0n3: And then finally, we have the harp player of the ensemble who is also a talented composer in his own right. He played in his first concert hall when he was still in grade school, had a record released of his harp playing when he was only a few years old, and has won several Fancy music awards. He’s also quite the motormouth. Please welcome, Harpo Parish Nadermane. Say hi, Harpo.
Harpo: [Says nothing. Nods.]
DJ-P0n3: Riveting.
Octavia: Hehe, well, Harpo’s never been much of a talker.
Frédéric: It’s true. Always the quiet one. He’s been that way as far back as I can remember. Even I find it hard to figure out what he thinks sometimes ...
Beauty Brass: BUT HE’S STILL A SWEETIE.
[Harpo smiles.]
DJ-P0n3: ...sweetie?
[Octavia chuckles.]
Beauty Brass: ... I DIDN’T ... ahem ... I didn’t say that out loud, did I?
DJ-P0n3: You did. Loudly.
Beauty Brass: Um ...
Octavia: Perhaps we should change the subject.
DJ-P0n3: Oh, alright. So ... how did you all get together? Octavia mentioned you all got together in high school, but that’s pretty much all I know.
Octavia: Well, as I mentioned before, Beauty Brass and I have been friends since we were in grade school. We knew each other long before we both got into music and got our cutie marks.
DJ-P0n3: Aww, that’s so cute. [Giggle.] I can just imagine you and Beauty Brass doing all kinds of girly-girl stuff when you were really little. Bet you did stuff like ... play tea party and stuff.
Octavia: I ... heh, I was above such infantile things.
Beauty Brass: YEAH, WE PLAYED PRINCESS INSTEAD!
Octavia: Beauty!
[DJ-P0n3 chuckles.]
Octavia: Well, it’s better than being a criminal like you were as a filly.
DJ-P0n3: Hey, it’s okay. We all played silly games like that as kids. I mean, I used to play doctor with Spitfire all the time.
Octavia: WHAT?!
DJ-P0n3: Yeah, I would pretend I was a surgeon, and Spitfire would pretend to have like persistent pegasus paralysis or something. Then I’d pretend to saw her leg off and I’d have to go before the medical board for malpractice. It was awesome.
Octavia: Oh. [Pause.] Of course. I thought you meant ... nevermind. [Cough.] Anyway, I didn’t meet Frédéric and Harpo until high school, when we were all in band class. Frédéric and Harpo were very nice. They even tried to make friends with me even after I ran into some ... unpleasantness when I first started band.
DJ-P0n3: Oh? What happened?
Octavia: Well ... I really enjoyed everypony in band class ... but the instructor we had was a truly horrible old stallion. He was very rude ... on one of my first days, I missed a note playing cello and he just ... laid into me. Admonishing me for such mediocre cello playing. I was very ... sensitive about my music playing and I nearly started crying. Beauty Brass tried to comfort me, but I was still really upset. And then Frédéric, who I had never even spoken to before, stood up and said ... [Chuckles.] Do you want to say what you called him, Frédéric?
Frédéric: I’m fairly certain you can’t say it on the radio. [Pause.] I think we actually had our first real conversation in detention afterwards.
Octavia: Then after that we all hung out all the time and Frédéric actually suggested we join up with him and Harpo.
DJ-P0n3: Oh, so he and Harpo had already teamed up before that? How did that happen?
[Frédéric chuckles.]
Frédéric: Well ... there’s a story there. Isn’t that right, Harpo?
Harpo: [Says nothing, smiles.]
Frédéric: Ah, you’re smiling. I know you remember too.
DJ-P0n3: Well, out with it then!
Frédéric: Well ... it began as most stories do, with a young colt’s dream being trampled upon.
DJ-P0n3: ... so this story is going to be a feel-good comedy romp?
Octavia: Clearly.
Frédéric: I had always loved music, as long as I can remember. The first gift I remembered getting was a tiny piano. I loved playing it ... even if it took me quite a while to become competent at it. I had even tried to write my own compositions. Many were bad ... many, many, MANY of them were bad. Nothing but meaningless noise.
Octavia: Not unlike the music Vinyl likes.
Frédéric: Quite right.
DJ-P0n3: Hey!
Frédéric: But eventually I got better. Nothing exactly award winning, but good for a little foal. My parents moved to Canterlot when I was in the first grade and when I went to my new school, I was excited to see there was a music class. A music class that put on recitals! I had dreamed of playing one of my compositions before an audience for so long! So, my very first day, I took one of my better pieces--one of the ones that didn’t sound like a cat dying a sad, lonely death--and presented it to the music teacher. And I asked if I could play it at the next recital, making sure to turn on the ever-manipulative puppy dog eyes.
DJ-P0n3: That’s an important skill. I try it on Octy all the time. It’d work if she wasn’t such an ice queen.
Octavia: No, it’d work if you remember to take your sunglasses off before giving the stare.
DJ-P0n3: I can’t just take these off anytime. They’re prescription!
Octavia: Oh that’s just ... wait. Really?
DJ-P0n3: Yeah, why else do you think I wear them at night?
Octavia: Because you do a ton of weird things I don’t question! [Pause.] Wait, why don’t you just wear normal glasses instead?
DJ-P0n3: Because I do a ton of weird things you shouldn’t question.
Octavia: Touché.
Beauty Brass: GESUNDHEIT.
Frédéric: But, puppy dog eyes aside, it was to no avail. She said “I’m sorry, Freddy, but we already have a composer.” I asked who ... and it was at that point she pointed to the quiet colt in the corner with the harp.
Harpo: [Says nothing, grins.]
Frédéric: Now, I was only a child, not a fraction of the gentlecolt I would become, so I narrowed my eyes and said “So? What makes him so great?” And the teacher pointed at his flank.
DJ-P0n3: What, he was great because he had a nice flank?
Frédéric: What? No!
Beauty Brass: WELL, MAYBE.
Octavia: Beauty!
Beauty Brass: [Blushing.] Oh dear ... I was TRYING to whisper that ...
Octavia: You can’t whisper!
Frédéric: As I was saying ... what she was truly pointing at was his cutie mark. I was stunned. We were in the first year of school! NOPONY had their cutie mark yet. It was impossible. I learned that Harpo was essentially a child prodigy. He had already played in concert halls, at such a young age, and everything he played was music he’d written himself. I couldn’t believe it. How could somepony be so ... so far ahead of me, after how hard I had slaved over that piano? It had to be wrong. I said, “I bet that cutie mark isn’t even real! It’s probably painted on!” So I ran right up to Harpo as he was playing his harp, and tried my best to wipe off the fake cutie mark. No matter how hard I tried, it stayed on. It was real, of course ... I was shocked. At this point I realized everypony was staring at me ... and that to the outside observer, it looked like I had just rubbed Harpo’s flank.
DJ-P0n3: Pfft! Hey, I think Beauty Brass might be jealous of you now, Freddy.
Beauty Brass: I-I AM NOT. REALLY ... SHUT UP!
Frédéric: I looked up at Harpo. He said nothing, only raised his eyebrow. I laughed nervously and ran away. [Sigh.] So despite being horribly embarrassed, I kept going to music class. They of course let me play piano ... but I couldn’t play my own compositions. After all, Harpo was practically famous, so he was quite the draw at music recitals. And the worst part ... at least to me at the time, was that he was good. Not just good, magnificent. His music was beautiful and the way he played a harp ... I never much cared for the harp, but he made it sound ... angelic. I suppose I should have admired him ... but all I held back then was resentment. I wanted to topple a giant ... and I could hardly have a chance to even nip at its heels.
Harpo: [Says nothing, blinks.]
Frédéric: It was ... quite frustrating. All I wanted was a chance to prove myself, a chance to become great ... nopony is going to remember a piano player who only plays “Camptown Races.”
DJ-P0n3: That’s ... a lot of pressure to put on yourself. I mean, you were just a kid.
Frédéric: Perhaps ... but then, I was ... not the happiest child. [Sadly.] But that is what drives some musicians ... or at least me. The pressure to become great ... and the fear of being forgotten...
DJ-P0n3: ...yeah. You’re right...
[Pause.]
Octavia: ...Vinyl?
DJ-P0n3: [Perks up.] Hm? Oh! Sorry, lost my train of thought. Haha!
Octavia: ... a-alright.
Frédéric: But, regardless of that, I still persisted. I wrote music all the time, sometimes staying up all night to do so. Whenever I thought of quitting, I thought of Harpo. How long did he work on his? How many sleepless nights had he had? I wanted to think he slaved as hard as I did ... but my greatest fear was that it all came easy to him. What if it came easy to all those with talent? I didn’t know, I was just a child ... I was afraid that I was working so hard for something I could not achieve ... and that I was nothing but a fool. But I was more afraid of quitting.
Harpo: [Says nothing, scoots chair closer to Frédéric. Pats him on the back with his hoof.]
Frédéric: [Smiles.] Thank you.
[Pause.]
Frédéric: Where was I? Oh yes! [Chuckles.] Well, this went on for some time. Then one day, I showed the teacher more of my arrangements, some I was especially proud of. There was a big recital coming up very soon, so I begged her to just use one, just this once ... but I got the same dismissal I had before. It bothered me far more than usual. Instead of blaming the teacher, I blamed Harpo. He was in the corner, quiet as always, playing his harp. So I marched up to him, clutching the compositions in my hoof, and I shouted at him. I screamed at him like the idiot child I was, saying I was tired of his attitude, that he was stuck up and that the music he’d written was lazy and his harp playing was mediocre and that he had no talent. It was all lies ... unfair lies ... but I was so furious I did not care. He said nothing, as per usual for Harpo. I shouted “And don’t give me the silent treatment! I know you can talk! Don’t mock me! Say something! ANYTHING!” Harpo looked at me hard for a moment, then he just smirked ... and stuck out his tongue. And then I punched him.
DJ-P0n3: You punched him? That’s ... a little violent for you.
Octavia: I know. When I first heard this story, I couldn’t believe it either.
Frédéric: Yes ... well, I wasn’t born a gentlecolt, after all. [Cough.] I realized this was a brash, idiotic idea a few seconds later, when Harpo glared at me and bit me in the shin.
DJ-P0n3: Ouch.
Frédéric: Yes, as I recall that was my reaction as well. [Chuckle.] It was the only fight I had ever been in. There was no style or grace, no concept of what was fair. We bit, kicked, head-butted, aimed for ungentlecolty anatomical targets, threw percussion instruments at the other’s head ... heh, I think we ended up destroying half that music room before they finally pulled us apart and sent us to the principal’s office. My snout was bleeding and there was an uncomfortable ringing in my ears, but I didn’t care. I was still mad.
[Sigh.]
Frédéric: We sat next to each other in the office, not acknowledging each other except through glares. Finally as I was waiting, my anger faded ... and I began to think of what I had done. After starting such a commotion, making a fool of myself in the music room ... there was surely no way they would play my work now. I looked at my work, music that I thought would never be heard outside of my own head ... and as much as it shamed me, my eyes began to well with tears. Harpo only stared at me, but I turned away ... and dropped all that I had written in the garbage.
[Pause.]
Frédéric: We both ended up suspended for several days. But then something very peculiar happened. On the day I returned from my suspension, Harpo did not. He had called out sick, but nopony worried. Surely he would be back soon! After all, the big recital was coming up ... then he was out the next day. And the next. And the next. And then everypony worried, especially the music teacher. Without Harpo to compose something, they had nothing. And it didn’t help that the school advertised prominently the child prodigy would be playing. What little confidence I had left stirred. I said I already had the perfect piece at home and could bring it in tomorrow. The teacher finally said yes! And I was happy ... of course, by that point I had thrown away everything I had before, so I spent that whole night writing something new ... and I thought it was my best work.
Harpo: [Says nothing, but there is a glimmer of nostalgia in his eyes.]
Frédéric: Finally, it was the night of the recital, but still nopony had seen Harpo. I ... finally got to hear everypony play my music ... I got to play something on the piano that I had written myself ... and at the end, there was a standing ovation. I stood there, overwhelmed ... hardly even noticing that my cutie mark had appeared the moment I finished. Even after all the shows I’ve ever done, all the places I have ever played ... nothing compared to the feeling I had there, in that auditorium ...
DJ-P0n3: That’s ... that’s really sweet.
Octavia: Yeah ... it’s a great feeling. You never forget the first time.
DJ-P0n3: [Stifled laughter.]
Octavia: What? Did I say something funny?
DJ-P0n3: [Sweetly.] Oh, nothing.
Octavia: Oh, don’t play innocent. I’ve known you long enough to know there isn’t an innocent bone in your body!
DJ-P0n3: Not true! My femur is plenty innocent!
Octavia: I’m ... shocked you even know that word.
DJ-P0n3: Learned it from playing doctor.
Frédéric: Anyway ... as I was leaving the show, who should I see as I walked out but Harpo. He walked up to me and gave me a little bow. I was so surprised to see him I temporarily forgot how mad I had been before. I said, “I thought you were sick.” Then, to my complete and utter shock, he smiled up at me and said, “I lied.”
DJ-P0n3: Wait, wait ... hang on ... he said that?
Frédéric: Yes.
DJ-P0n3: He said words? Like ... with his mouth?
Octavia: That is the traditional way one does that, Vinyl.
DJ-P0n3: Well ... I just kinda thought he was mute.
Frédéric: So did our entire school. He can talk just fine. He just doesn’t.
DJ-P0n3: And ... wait a minute. He faked being sick? Why?
Frédéric: I wanted to know the same thing. So I asked. And he said--
Harpo: [Coughs, clears throat.]
Beauty Brass: ...HARPO?
Harpo: [Whisper.] Perhaps ... I should tell it ...
Frédéric: ...heh. I guess that’d be appropriate.
DJ-P0n3: Whoa! Um ... yeah, go ahead, Harpo. Do you still remember what you said?
Harpo: [Whisper.] I cannot forget. I told Frédéric how I had seen him cry. I told him I had pulled what he had written from the garbage. I read them. I could hear the music in my head ... and it was good. I am a composer myself and I know the work that goes into it. I could feel the hard work and toil that went into it. I felt that the colt who had fought me was my equal, somepony who shared the same drive I did, and I could not hate him because we are the same. He deserved a chance. I faked sick so that he could have that chance. He took it. And he performed better than I ever could.
Frédéric: I didn’t know what to say. For a moment, I was angry. In my pride, I felt like I was forced to take charity from Harpo. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, he laid something down at my hooves: the compositions I had tossed away. Do you remember what you said, Harpo?
Harpo: [Smiling.] I do. I said, “And if you ever throw anything so beautiful away again, I will bite your shin off next time.”
Frédéric: I looked at him, then I looked at the papers, then back at him. All of my anger was gone. I ... didn’t know what to feel. So eventually, all I could say was “Thank you.” And after that, we were inseparable. We played together, we composed together ... and the rest as they say is history. Harpo is, and always shall be, the best friend I’ve ever had.
[Pause.]
Beauty Brass: [Sniff.] THAT’S STILL SUCH A BEAUTIFUL STORY! DO YOU NEED A HUG?
Frédéric: No I think I’m--
Beauty Brass: HUG!
Frédéric: Oof!
[Beauty Brass leaps over and hugs Frédéric and Harpo.]
Beauty Brass: YOU ALL ARE MY BEST FRIENDS TOO! [Squeezes tighter.]
Frédéric: [Trouble breathing.] Help ... me ...
DJ-P0n3: [Grinning.] Oh ... I think we can help. Right, Octy?
Octavia: I suppose we can.
DJ-P0n3: GROUP HUG!
Frédéric: [Strained laughter.] Not what I meant.
[DJ-P0n3 and Octavia join in the hug.]
Octavia: Aww ... this is nice ...
Frédéric: [Strained.] So is breathing ...
[Everypony stops hugging.]
Frédéric: [Deep breath.] Alright then ... choking aside, that was very nice. Heh, I hope my story wasn’t too dull.
DJ-P0n3: Not at all, Freddy. It was quite good! [Grins.] Not to mention this story is going to make you mad popular with the fillies.
Frédéric: Really, I’m not too concerned about--
DJ-P0n3: Every filly out there, if you see Frédéric walking around, you should give him a big hug! Or whatever else feels appropriate!
Frédéric: ... oh dear.
DJ-P0n3: Don’t worry, Freddy. I’m gonna take you under my wing. I’ll get you the hook up. I know lots of fillies who aren’t picky and are eager to make bad decisions!
Frédéric: ... is there a way to get out of this?
Octavia: Well, it’s Vinyl, so ... no.
Frédéric: I see. [Sigh.] Well, I suppose we should probably be going. I have to look over a few of those contracts we were sent. [Door opens.] This was ... quite fun. We should do this again.
DJ-P0n3: Yeah ... we should.
[Hoofsteps, door closes.]
Beauty Brass: I SUPPOSE I SHOULD GO TOO! THIS IS SO MUCH FUN! I LOVE BEING ON THE RADIO!
Octavia: Yes ... we’d love to have you back just ... try to work on that volume problem.
Beauty Brass: OKAY! I SHOULD [Cough.] I mean ... yes ... I should work on that. We should go now though.
[Door opens.]
Beauty Brass: SO! [Cough.] I mean ... so ... Harpo?
Harpo: [Perks up, interested.]
[Hoofsteps.]
Beauty Brass: Well, I was wondering ... well ... maybe if you weren’t ... doing anything later maybe you wanted to...
[Door closes, Beauty Brass’s words become indistinct.]
Octavia: Well ... I hope all of you listeners enjoyed hearing the rest of my ensemble. They are quite a bunch. Right, Vinyl?
DJ-P0n3: [Pause.]
Octavia: [Softly.] Vinyl?
DJ-P0n3: Oh, sorry. Hehe ... sorry. It’s just ... [Voice becomes softer.] That story really made me think.
Octavia: Really?
DJ-P0n3: I mean ... Freddy was that sad as a kid and nopony ever knew ... and he was so afraid of being forgotten. He lashed out and ... heh, kind of acted like a jerk and ... and didn’t really feel whole until he found a friend. It just made me think about ... things.
[Brief pause.]
Octavia: Vinyl?
DJ-P0n3: Yeah?
Octavia: Nopony would ever be able to forget you. No matter how much they tried. [Smiles.] Especially not me.
DJ-P0n3: ... heh. Octy?
Octavia: Yeah?
DJ-P0n3: I’m ... glad I picked you as my co-host.
Octavia: So am I ...
DJ-P0n3: Heh ... well, I suppose we should wrap things up. [Perks up.] Hang on! We can’t end the show without having a big laugh at the end!
[Door pops open.]
Beauty Brass: OCTAVIA! OCTAVIA, I HAVE A DATE! [Bounces up and down.] I HAVE A DATE, I HAVE A DATE, I HAVE A DATE, YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
[Horrifying electric feedback, sound of a speaker blowing out.]
Beauty Brass: Oops ... was that bad? That sounded bad.
DJ-P0n3: [Smiling.] Yep, that’ll do nicely. That’s all the time we have for tonight! G’night everypony!
The Blueblood Tapes
Transcript: Second Transmission
[Crackling sound is heard over transmission.]
[Fire extinguisher is being blown with Blueblood’s telekinesis.]
Blueblood: [Out of breath.] Ugh ... ugh ... okay ... I think that’s the last of it. Phew ...
[Fire extinguisher is put on the floor with a clank. Blueblood sits down. Trixie sits next to him.]
Blueblood: ... you alright?
Trixie: [Curtly.] Yeah. Yeah, whatever.
Blueblood: What’s your problem?
Trixie: What do you mean “what’s my problem?” Everypony listening is going to think Trixie’s a complete fool for setting a fire! They’re probably still laughing right now!
Blueblood: Well ... um ... well, yes, if I had to pick a problem with the broadcast, the fire would definitely be among them.
Trixie: GRR! Just leave Trixie alone, okay? You’re not helping! [Bitter.] As if Trixie needed more ponies laughing behind her back.
Blueblood: Pardon?
Trixie: [Angry.] Nevermind! Just ... [Sigh.] Just forget it.
[Pause.]
Blueblood: Um ... [Clears throat.] You know ... all this hard work and attempted arson must have made you hungry. Would you ... I mean, perhaps it would be best if we got something to--
Trixie: Are you seriously asking Trixie out after making fun of her?
Blueblood: [Genuinely shocked.] I ... I thought humor would lighten the mood a--
Trixie: How dare you? How dare you laugh at Trixie?! Have you any idea how long I prepared that speech?! The work I put into it? Do you know how much showstopping power I put into that only to have it blow up in my face? Do you have any sense of decency? Do you ever think?!
Blueblood: [Stammering.] I’ve ... dabbled.
Trixie: Grr! You’re impossible! [Gets up from chair.] Trixie is going home. She shall entertain more of your idiocy tomorrow ... if you’re lucky!
[Hoofsteps.]
Blueblood: But I was just trying to--
[Door opens, then slams.]
Blueblood: ... FINE! [Bitterly.] Be that way! Go on! I don’t care! I ... [Voice falters, becomes a soft whisper.] I don’t care at all ...
[At this point in the recording, Blueblood apparently notices the console is active.]
Blueblood: Oh ... oh dear. Um ... [False pleasantry.] Tune in tomorrow for another installment of the Prince Blueblood Show on National Pony ... [Stops, and sighs.] Just ... forget it.
[Clicks button.]
[End transmission.]