House Arrest

by King X2

Hour One: She Wears the Pants

“Octavia, you alright?” whispered a deep voice.
Octavia was standing upon a balcony in a row of red velvet seats, high above the ground floor, gazing down into the great red curtain on stage. All around them was a handsome brass-plated theater, full of ponies waiting for the performance to begin. Next to her was the Canterlot guard, who was scanning her face with concern. He was unarmored, replaced with a handsome suit and gold tie. His stocky build matched his voice. Octavia had no feelings for him, for burly meatheads weren’t her type, but had delightfully accepted his invitation anyway. Being able to stand in the royal section of a theatre next to one of Celestia’s royal guards was something she had wanted to cross off her bucket list since she was a small filly.
“Hm?” said Octavia distractedly. “Oh—oh, I’m sorry—it’s nothing.” She gave a false smile, but it didn’t lift the pegasus’ expression.
“Would you rather we stand somewhere else?” He looked around, prepared to push ponies off the balcony.
“Oh no, Sledge, you’re fine. I'm perfectly happy here,” she tried to give a more convincing smile.
“Well alright, then,” he said, but still looking suspicious.
A mustached pony (how equines managed to grow facial hair had always been a mystery to Octavia) walked on stage. He boomed at the audience with an enthusiastic welcome, sending ripples of cheers through the theater. Sledge applauded with them, glancing sideways at Octavia to see if she did so too. Noticing she hadn’t, he tried to initiate a conversation.
“So I was doing my graveyard watch the other night and this pegasus—”
“How do you know if you’ve done the right thing, Sledge?” asked Octavia suddenly, interrupting him.
“I—what makes you say that?” asked Sledge, looking taken aback.
The stallion on stage ended his introduction and the audience applauded again. The lights dimmed and then the large curtain drew itself back, revealing the set.
“I had a fight with a friend of mine today and I feel like I went a little overboard,” whispered Octavia.
Sledge bent his head forward. “What happened?” he asked.
Octavia never liked talking ill of other ponies behind their backs, but she had to vent to somepony. Even if it was a breathing brick wall. At first, she made it sound like the fight was all her fault, as though she had just approached Vinyl unprovoked and starting unleashing Tartarus on her. But by the end, she was hissing angrily and jerking her forelegs about, tears swelling in her eyes. Sledge listened intently, his expression becoming noticeably frustrated as well.
“She’s a rebel, Octavia,” said Sledge judgingly. “Rebels need to be taught order. You have done everything right.”
Octavia could have said she murdered Vinyl with her cello bow then ate her internal organs and he would have said the same thing. But what the aptly named pegasus said was true; Vinyl needed to be scratched. If that scratch involved laying waste to telephones and yelling at her like a parent, then so be it.
“I guess so…,” said Octavia. She smiled weakly to herself and her attention became drawn by the colorful actors on stage.

“No—no—no—no—”
Vinyl had the entire contents of the record cabinet in a messy heap on the table. Flipping through each of them so fast, pausing to look at the titles for only a split second, she frisbeed her rejections onto the couch beside her.
“—No—no—no—no—come on! Where the heck is it?” said Vinyl angrily. She had searched through the pile three times, but still couldn’t find what she was looking for. She hopped off the couch and ran towards a short flight of stairs off of the front door. When she approached the second floor landing, there was only one of two doors. She opened one of them to reveal a room that resembled a warehouse. Octavia, intelligent, knew it was a waste of time to bother with this nightmare, too.
Boxes and boxes of power cords, records, sound systems and other disc jockey equipment piled all over the room. An overflowing wicker trash bin sat underneath the window, filled with mostly crumpled up pieces of paper and faulty cords. Purple light was flowing into the room, the post-sunset evening quickly fading into nighttime. Strange and graphic posters filled up the walls, some sporting fan-made drawings of Vinyl herself. The only orderly sight in the whole room, Vinyl’s bed, looked as though it hadn’t been slept on in weeks. A mini fridge sat in the corner, a visible path cleared before it.
Vinyl began picking up boxes and throwing them on her bed, carefully stepping around the huge mess. Eventually she was able to reach the boxes that housed the rest of her collection of records She grabbed one of them and hauled it downstairs.
After several trips, the living room was now swimming in large black discs. It looked as though Vinyl had completely robbed a good sized music store.
Eventually she found what she was looking for. Looking extremely annoyed, she took out a disc with a spider web designed across it, the spindly letters reading “Cabin Fever”. She took off “Turn Up and Shut Up” and slammed the spider web disc down on the turntable. Vinyl punched the power button back to its on position.
Grotesque heavy metal music overtook the silence like a sudden war had just started in the living room. The music would have scared the living daylight out of Octavia. Vinyl simply nodded and then turned back to her huge pile of records. She smirked at the sight, the smaller half of her considering to just leaving the pile there and make Octavia deal with it as punishment for leaving her here alone. The larger half, thankfully, smacked her upside the head with common sense.
Impatiently, she began to sort them all alphabetically, starting with the Zs, but gave up almost immediately afterward.
“To heck with this,” mumbled Vinyl, chucking her records back into the boxes hurriedly. “I’m not spending my whole night alphabetizing all these.”
She stuffed all the boxes hurriedly with a demented look on her face, the aggressive music amazingly fitting. But as quick as the look came, it vanished.
When all the boxes were full, excluding the records she kept in the cabinet for quick access, she hauled them back into her bedroom.
Vinyl had just replaced the last box when her stomach rumbled loudly. She fell onto her bed and stared hungrily at the ceiling.
“Aw dude…I could totally use a pizza from Sauce Top right now,” she said, groaning. Their veggie pizzas were legendary. “Oh wait, Octavia destroyed the stupid phone,” she added sarcastically, putting her foreleg hooves over her eyes.
Suddenly, her eyes lit up, an egg shell of an idea hatching in her mind.
How exactly was Octavia going to know she left home? All she would have to do is run to Sauce Top, pick up a pizza, and then hurry back. Octavia wasn’t going to be back for hours and Sauce Top was just down the street. She could bring home the pizza, eat the thing, stuff the empty box under her bed, and throw it away on another day! Octavia never bothered going in her room anyway. Nopony would be the wiser!
“Hey hey! You told Octavia you weren’t eating out anymore, dude!” rang a voice through her ears as she stubbornly amassed some bits lying around.
“Just one more time. Tomorrow will be a new day,” she thought back at the voice.
“You’re an idiot, you know that dude? Why don’t you just listen to me for once—” insulted the voice.
“Who are you calling an idiot, pal? Get lost!” thought Vinyl.
“Whoa, you can’t talk to your conscious like that—”
Vinyl made a notion with her hoof to act as though she was turning down the volume on her thoughts like a knob on one of her stereos. Looking quizzical, realizing she had just argued with herself, she picked up a black purse and slunk the bits into it.
Vinyl walked back downstairs to the living room and turned off the stereo, her aggression calming. She went to put her hoof on the doorknob to the front door when she stopped to look at a picture frame on a nearby shelf. In the frame was a blushing Octavia shaking hooves with Princess Celestia, who was congratulating her on winning the blue ribbon at the Canterlot Gardens. It was the happiest Vinyl had ever seen her. But Vinyl remembered that happiness being reduced to shambles when she had gotten into a fight with her later that night. Octavia went to bed before sundown and didn’t come out of her room until well after noon the next day.
Vinyl stared at the picture, recalling the incident as though it was yesterday. Octavia had come home in the evening to find the house filled with smoke. Vinyl had been cooking dinner in the oven when she had fallen asleep on the couch and let it burn. Although not too upset by the smoke, Octavia was fuming that Vinyl wasn’t at the Canterlot Gardens to see her obtain her ribbon. A photographer had taken the picture and Octavia had it framed for all to see. But Vinyl privately thought Octavia only had it there to make sure Vinyl never forgot she screwed up.
Vinyl sighed and lay down her purse on the shelf, unable to cross such a boundary. Octavia could just as well have been standing right there blocking the front door. Maybe Vinyl would just make herself a sandwich.
When the peanut butter and honey sandwich had been made, Vinyl scarfed half of it down in one bite like she hadn’t eaten in days. She walked over to the kitchen window and peered out of the blinds into the street.
The bustling hoof traffic of the night life was in full swing. Groups of ponies, some of which Vinyl knew, were hurrying down the road, looking excited. Vinyl pressed a hoof to the window sadly, taking another bite out of her sandwich. Oh how she wished she was out there. She felt like a caged bird, gazing out the window hopelessly. She was powerless.
Or was she? Vinyl pigged the remains of the sandwich down and turned back to face the living room. She may have been alone, but she had all her music to keep her company! There were magazines to read, notebook paper for writing down inspiration for future songs, projects in her room she could work on to pass the time. Her and Octavia’s house wasn’t exactly a bore to exist in.
But then again…she was still alone. All of these projects, as enticing as they were on a week night, just didn’t seem appealing on the weekend. She needed company.
But how was she going to feel that company? She couldn’t invite anypony over. And even if she could, she had no way of doing so. Turning on her music full blast wasn’t going to be enough, either.
Vinyl paced around the kitchen, her mind racing. She glanced at the clock, which was closing in on eight-o-clock.
“Celestia, really? It’s only been an hour?” she retorted aloud. “The party down at Berry Punch’s would be in full swing by now—”
Vinyl stopped. A party. She could throw her own party! Well, she couldn’t invite anypony to it obviously, but she could at least make it feel like a party was happening. Surely that would help matters. Yes…yes…
A wide and rather creepy grin spread across her face as another egg shell of an idea was hatching, hopefully this time a bit less empty than the last.