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// Night Life 
// Story: Pearple Juice With Bits 
// by Pearple Prose 
//------------------------------//

Vinyl Scratch liked nightclubs. There was something quite beautiful about them. Like fine art, or a vintage wine.

Many ponies dismissed them out of hoof for being dirty, crowded, pits of sweat, smoke, drugs, and awful dancing. And they’d be right; Vinyl couldn’t deny it. 

But those ponies had never seen them the same way she had. They had never seen the colours of the strobe lighting reflecting off silvery garments and tacky jewellery, shining through the miasma of smoke and creating a euphoric haze of light and sound. They had never watched a chaotic mass of drunk and dazed ponies move madly to the discordant tones and beat of the music, somehow transcending comicality and becoming surreally beautiful. 

And they had never known the feeling that they and they alone dictated the actions of this beautiful organism of noise and light; they had never wielded a turntable like a conductor’s baton, and controlled the mindset of the crowd like a changeling queen.

Vinyl could see one of those ponies right now. Sitting over by the bar, sipping a martini and looking distinctly uncomfortable. It was quite dark in the club right then, and it was normally difficult to point out an individual in the crowd. But this one was as obvious as a blotch of ink on a canvas; the smooth grey coat, the perfectly styled mane, and the loose, formal dress just made it more obvious.

She was there with a friend, obviously. Perhaps a charming jock of a stallion, with a rather persuasive smile. Or maybe even a mare? It was definitely possible, and even if she didn’t swing that way…

Well, Vinyl could be pretty persuasive too.

Vinyl Scratch nodded her head to the contagious beat, and licked her lips. Ooooh yeah. This is gonna be one fine night.