My ears rang with the high-pitched tone of Pinkie Pie’s voice. I swore I’d probably be hearing those same garbled, unintelligible words tomorrow. Even Cell was discreetly wincing, despite all of the constant nonsense from Pinkie she’d had to put up with in the past. The almost-silence, save for the patter of rain against the roof, was unnerving. I didn't know what it was, but I felt an immensely uneasy sensation in the pit of my stomach. Then, out of the almost-silence, came a faint, almost inaudible whistling noise from behind us.
“What is that?” Cell asked, her voice quavering uncertainly.
“I don’t…”
The sound was swelling and growing until it became a roaring chorus of hyper voices, similar to Pinkie’s. “JUSTIN, JUSTIN, JUSTIN!” A massive wave of fans was surging down the road, leaving a path of utter destruction behind them. Upturned bins, scattered traffic cones and flyers trodden into the ground strewn all around the street. I recognized the face grinning arrogantly on the front of it, labelled with two bold, undeniable words. Justin Bieber. Like the complete scatter-brain I was, I had forgotten about the concert being held at the theater in town.
Suddenly, I felt an unnerving jolt in the car. We were being lifted up by the crowd! My eyes widened larger than I had thought possible for me, even wider than the time I first heard One Direction. And my eyes grew so large, I probably looked like a manga character. “Wh-who’s Justin?” Cell stuttered, a look of genuine terror in her eyes as the car rumbled forwards.
“He’s this guy who makes songs,” I explained, gulping down my fear.
“Like…Vinyl Scratch?” Pinkie offered, scrambling forward to squeeze her head between the front seats.
“No,” I yelled, struggling to be heard over the screaming down below “she actually makes decent music.”
It didn't actually take too long to arrive at the theater. Those fans were either mutant alien creatures, or their passionate love for Justin Bieber had fueled them on to haul a car into the air. Wow. With a painfully loud thud, we fell to the floor of the theater. It was broken by the plush red carpet lining the floor. Or maybe that was one of the fans that had been left behind. I didn't want to stay around to find out. Pinkie still seemed cheery, despite having experienced a terrifying trip. Her tolerance amazed me frequently.
“Hey, I wanna hear the music too!” she whined, staring longingly at the closed door.
“I dunno, Pinkie…” I began, but before I could continue, she had already plunged through the doors with an amazing strength and was springing around, disturbing the teens and adults alike. The stage in there was illuminated by searing white and purple lights; I was surprised that Justin wasn't blinded by them. His unbearable voice vibrated around the room.
“Hey my Beliebers! Are you ready for some music?” he shouted, to be met with the deafening response of hundreds of united fans, desperately trying to attract his attention. The song began pounding out of huge speakers the size of boulders while the popstar lip synced the words, slipping up several times. I cringed, dropping to my knees, tears rolling down my cheeks. I felt as if my ears were dripping with blood, they hurt so much. Pinkie’s hair and tail deflated and her mane flattened against her ears, eye beginning to twitch maddeningly. I could sense the annoyance radiating off of her, concerned that perhaps Pinkiemena was going to present herself. Cell was beginning to whimper, lips puckered into a grimace. At that moment, an explosion sounded.
Smoke cleared, rubble crumbled to the floor and a shadowy figure appeared at a turntable. My eyes focused and I gaped.
“Vinyl Scratch!” I whispered in rapture and awe.
“Thank Celestia,” I heard Cell murmur, a breath of relief escaping her lips. Vinyl surveyed the mass of humans wailing mournfully and reaching out towards the stage, trying to save their idol, which was helplessly trapped under a mound of concrete. She obviously thought they were here for music, and she was right, but not the kind she played. Then she put on the dubstep, and Pinkie’s hair puffed right back up.
Wubs shook the building to its roots. I could feel it pulsing beneath my feet, almost shaking me to the ground. Pinkie and Cell wobbled around the floor, their hooves slipping and sliding around. Vinyl had flipped her goggles over her eyes, to enhance the magic of the base rumbling throughout the theater.
“VINYL!” Pinkie squawked, waving her fore-legs around like a windmill to try and catch the DJ’s eye, which was bobbing her head to the beat. I thought her attempts would be useless, but I was wrong. Somehow, through the dubstep, Vinyl had noticed Pinkie’s frantic waving and began galloping towards us, leaving the fans to croon over their beloved Justin. I almost felt sorry for him; he would at least be missing his jacket by the time he awoke. If he did awake, that was.
Vinyl gave a friendly nod towards Pinkie and Cell and looked inquisitively at me. “Beatrix,” I grinned, viewing the chaos that Discord would proud of. I didn't want to be here when the cops arrived, and judging by the noise we were making, someone would definitely be dialing, probably at this exact moment. “Uhm…I hate to spoil the tender moment, but it will probably be best if we escape before the cops come and see Justin passed out on the floor,” I interrupted them, starting for the door.
“Yeah, ‘cause Mr. and Mrs. Cake would be super disappointed in me if I got into a big trouble that this might cause!” Pinkie stressed, looking worried. It looked as if Pinkie had never seen the inside of a prison before.
“I second that, let’s get going,” Cell decided, following me in close pursuit, and Vinyl seemed to silently agree, because she tagged along. I was surprised that the car had avoided most of the serious damage and was only coated in a layer of dust that sent me into a sneezing fit. We all boarded the car. I hoped I wouldn't find any more ponies; the car was starting to get a little cramped. The drive, for the most part, was uneventful, apart from a few literal bumps in the road. Apparently, the explosion had cause random pieces of debris to soar away and dent the tarmac. Portals were… more powerful than I had thought.
“Heya, Vinyl, what was it like in the portal? Do you remember anything from it? Because my mind has just gone BLANK! I’m real sorry for any trouble I caused, I mean, with you having so many adoring ponies and stuff!” Pinkie rambled, her mouth working at one hundred miles per hour. Vinyl just replied with a shrug and a forgiving smile. Somehow, she had managed to salvage a dusty CD of hers, so she slotted it into the music player, probably to relieve some of our pent up tension. Instantly, dubstep blasted through the car, making it jump across the road in fits and bursts. Just like any normal day.