A grey hoof gently pushed the old bar doors open with an ear piercing squeak. A sharp glance at the rusty hinges proved the deteriorated metal to be on its last legs. Stepping up to the bar and taking a seat on the worn, hard barstool, Octavia Philharmonica ordered her drink. Cursing under her breath, she wondered what goddess-forsaken crime she had committed towards her friend that made him suggest such a run-down location.
"Here's yar whiskey, ma'am," The barcolt started, before sauntering off politely to go shine some shot glasses and serve customers, while also possibly shining some particularly dirty looking customers and serving some particularly intelligent shot glasses.
The politeness of this was lost on the grey mare, however, as she downed her drink and pushed the glass forward, ready for it to be refilled once the bartender returned. A very exhausting concert only an hour prior had lessened her ability to send and receive politesse.
Further exhausting the kindness centers in her brain were the brightly colored lights shifting this way and that, never coming upon a resting place. It reminded Octavia of a foal, unable to contain its excitement. How very fitting, she thought. Never could she understand what kind of sane pony would listen to such noise. The constant deep pounding rhythm coming from the speakers several yards behind her were not, in any shape, form, or fashion, to be considered music. It was primitive, almost as if the cave-ponies from which she could trace her ancestry had suddenly crawled out from wherever they hid and decided to hang up their spears in favor of making horrendous music to kill their prey with.
Chancing a glance at the stage, she swore she could publish a research paper on the previous subject and earn many accolades for her theories. She could see it now, a headline in the newspapers : Octavia Philharmonica, newfound scientist, traces the mystery of the origin of recent music styles back to prehistoric times. Giggling dismissively into her recently refilled drink, Octavia wondered what caused her mind to create such silly thoughts. (Later, however, Octavia would deeply regret dismissing her theory, as a synthesizer and dj-ing equipment made of stone, dating back several millenia, were unearthed in a cave by geologists)
Suddenly, she noticed a pale, wild-haired mare winking at her from the stage, breaking her from her thought processes. Reprimanding herself, she realized she had been staring at the pony working the turntables while lost in thought. Coughing embarrassingly, she affixed her bowtie and whirled around to face the bar once again. Well that was awkward, She thought. Perhaps I should apologize after her show is over. Yes, I think that is the polite thing to do.
A heavy haze drifted over her mind as she took yet another shot of whiskey, becoming increasingly inebriated. She noticed that everything blurred slightly when she turned her head too fast. Putting a few bits on the bar, she payed for her drink and stood carefully, walking towards the dj from earlier once her set had ended. Patiently waiting her turn to talk to the popular dj, she took the time to steady herself. Once the crowd around her had dispersed, the dj turned towards her and grinned.
“Hiya,” She said with a wink. “I noticed you staring at me. I know I look good, but let’s try to refrain from outright staring, shall we?”
Octavia, completely unexpecting the mare to act the way she had, completely lost her train of thought on where the conversation should be heading.
“W-well- I-…Um,” She stammered, not knowing exactly how to reason with such an outgoing pony. “I was just coming to apologize for the staring. I was lost in my thoughts.”
“No biggie, although ponies are always naked, so there’s not much reason to undress me with your eyes,” The dj replied slyly.
Once again, Octavia was sent into a stammering fit, trying to disprove her ridiculous claims.
“It’s cool, I was jus’ teasin’,” The dj replied, giving Octavia a light punch in the shoulder. “Did you enjoy tonight’s show?”
“It was… interesting. Not really my type of music however. No offense,” Octavia replied, glad that the strange mare was not as full of herself as she had first suspected.
“Nonsense! You just need a couple more drinks in ya’ to loosen that uptight spirit,” She bursted, full of energy. “Cmon, follow me to the bar and we’ll get ya’ some liquid courage!”
“Thank you, that is a kind offer, but I think I’ll have to pass. I’ve had a few already, and I would like to be able to make it home tonight.”
Vinyl studied the mare for a few seconds before shrugging.
“Eh, suit yourself. I’ve never met someone who’d turn down a drink with the ol’ Pon3,” She replied, deflation apparent in her mood.
Octavia was not lost on the dj’s fallen mood, and attempted to recover the situation.
“Er, well… I suppose just another shot or two couldn’t hurt,” She soothed, immediately noticing the mare perking back up like a balloon.
“Now you’re talkin’! Let’s go have us a good time,” The dj replied, stalling for a moment to stand up on her hind legs and beat her chest with her hooves like a gorilla. “Onwards!”
As they walked up to the bar, Octavia was reminded of her earlier theory and giggled.
“Barkeep, gimme two a’ those gargle blasters,” Vinyl yelled at the barkeep, who was visibly startled at the sudden outburst.
Two glasses full of a yellow green liquid slid across the bar.
Vinyl haphazardly chugged the glass while Octavia simply stared into hers. She could swear she saw the entire galaxy held within the drink, tossed and turned by the barrage of bubbles coming from within the liquid. The glass looked almost as if it were being dissolved by the alcohol.
Shrugging, she swallowed the liquid in one gulp and began coughing. Vinyl's head hit the bar while Octavia furiously attempted to massage her brain, which had seemed to have been smashed by some strange combination of a golden brick and lemon.
Her vision swirled as the alcohol swallowed up the rest of the night in a drunken haze.
***
"-And I say'sh to the guy, I sa'sh, thatsh not a piccolo, thatsh a pickle!"
The two happily drunk mares stumbled out through the bar door, whose last leg was finally crippled as it clattered to the pavement. The horrid joke had them both laughing in stitches, despite the fact that neither had even understood what Octavia was saying. Vinyl had never even heard of a piccolo. She guessed it had to be some kind of food that likely closely resembled a pickle.
After falling on her face for nearly the tenth time that night, Vinyl Scratch surrendered her fate to forever hugging the ground. It was only after several brutal pokes to her side that she regained the strength to march onwards, and march onwards she did, for miles and miles. A sudden interruption from Octavia was the only thing to break her from her stride.
"Vinyl..." Octavia started.
"Yesh?"
"You'sh still on the ground," Octavia replied, extending the dj a hoof to pull herself up with. The effort was in vain, however, as Octavia fell just as Vinyl got to her hooves.
From then on until a point after which history was no longer recorded, not a soul would ever understand how they made it to Octavia's apartment that night.
Octavia was able to insert the key and open the door to her apartment after several failed attempts. Creaking the door open, she stepped inside and offered the Dj to stay for the night.
Vinyl drunkenly raised a hoof in dismissal and was seemingly instantly gone from Octavia's sight, though in reality her exit had taken course over several minutes, in which she had spent most of it stumbling both up and down the stairs. With the Dj gone, Octavia rammed her body into the door to close it, stumbled through her house, and collapsed on the bed utterly smashed. Her vision spun and she giggled to herself for several moments before accepting the heavy weight pressing on her nervous system. within a few minutes, she had succumb to the alcohol and slept like a rock.