//------------------------------// // If You Give A DJ Dubstep // Story: If You Give A Pone A Pancake // by lunabrony //------------------------------// Well into her fillyhood but years away from maredom, Vinyl Scratch was the youngest of three children and often felt ignored. The eldest sibling, Wave Runner, was off in Canterlot at a prestigious Dance Academy, making a name for herself. The next youngest, her older brother Treble Clef, was currently the bane of her existence, who annoyed her night and day practicing with his band. This was what they were doing now, and Vinyl was currently up in her room with her head stuck under a pillow, trying to ignore the crashing drums from downstairs. At, last, when she couldn't take it anymore, the young filly stormed her way downstairs. In the back of the small garage, one of her brothers bandmates was at the drums and was pounding and crashing away, with the bands name of the week, Here Comes Treble, lazily spray painted over the front of the largest drum. Her brother was at the microphone, screaming lyrics into it as if someone had just run their carriage over his tail. "...I CRY FOR YOU, WHEN YOUR HOOFBEATS ARE POUNDING, POUNDING ON MY SOULLLLL!" "Treble!" Vinyl shouted. "YOUR HOOVES ARE LIKE DIAMOND, MY HEART IS LIKE GLASS, TOO BAD YOU'RE SUCH A PAIN IN THE-" "TREBLE!" Vinyl shouted again, cutting him off. Her brother finally sighed and made a swiping gesture with his hoof, and the drums silenced. "Vinyl, we're practicing," he said sternly. "We've got a gig next week." "You do not," Vinyl countered. Here Comes Treble was not exactly known for its ability to get gigs, and even at her young age, Vinyl suspected her brother often made his group sound more popular than they actually were. "Yes we do! We're playing for one of mom's friends' daughter's bat mitzvah," he said. "The last gig you had was the Ponyville Retirement Community, and they asked you not to come back," the filly said. "Maybe if you played ACTUAL music instead of noise..." Treble glared at at her. She'd never called his music noise before. It sounded like she was being influenced towards what music she should listen to, and he had a fairly good idea who was doing it. "You've been hanging out with that Octavia kid again." "So what if I have?" Vinyl said. "At least her music is understandable," she fumed, going back upstairs. Treble chased after her, hoof on the garage door latch. "You just don't understand our scene!" He shouted, and slammed the door between them, cutting her off. Fuming, Vinyl abandoned the now closed door and made her way up to her room. She wasn't supposed to go out by herself, but she'd just about had enough of staying here and listening to the ruckus coming from the garage. She yanked open her closet door and pulled down her horsey bank. The bank was shaped like Princess Celestia, a reminder of their lovely rulers 'hip and cool' phase, when she had attempted to make Luna and herself more popular with the foals via merchandising. But forceful marketing just to sell toys was something that did not typically end well, and the line had been discontinued. Not before Vinyl got her hooves on a bank, however. Her horn gripped the cork in the horse's belly and yanked it out, and the bank was turned upside down and shaken violently. Five bits fell out. Not much, but it was all she had. Vinyl paused. No noise from the garage. Maybe she wouldn't have to go out after all. She stuck her head out the door, and listened. Silence. Well, maybe he'd finally learned his- "ONE TWO THREE FOUR!" And suddenly there was noise again. Nope. Vinyl gathered up her bits in a pouch that she slung around her neck, and snuck downstairs. She didn't know why she was sleeping, Treble couldn't have heard an Ursa Major crash through the house. He was supposed to be watching her while their mother was at work, but was preoccupied as always, and Vinyl slipped out the door and headed right into town. Her mother usually took her to the music store, Vinyl's favorite haunt in which to spend all her hard earned bits. It wasn't an excessively long or dangerous walk from the house, and ten minutes after leaving her home she was pushing her way through the front door, the bell jangling. The salespony brightened as he saw her, then frowned. "Well good afternoon, Miss Scratch," he said. Then, hesitantly, "Where's your mother?" "Shopping," Vinyl lied. "She said I could come in here and look around. Got anything new?" "As a matter of fact," the salespony began, "I do." He walked her over to the Listening Station, where several pairs of clunky, oversized headphones hung on the wall. "I got a special unicorn that comes in every two weeks to enchant these pups to play new albums," he explained. "He was just here this morning. Give it a whirl." Vinyl put the first headset on, and was instantly greeted with the soothing melody of violins. Octavia would love this one. "That's Neightoven's Fifth," he explained. "Very classy." "Nah," Vinyl said, and put the headphones back and tried the second pair. She was greeted with a sound that sounded ear poundingly similar to her brother's own band. Lots of noise and yelling. "Punk rock," the salespony said. "Not really your thing, I'd imagine." "You have no idea," Vinyl said, and tried the third set. Her ears immediately flicked upwards as heavy bass pounded into them. VWRRRRRRR WHUMPWHUMPWHUMPWHUMP NEEEEEEEEER DAKADAKADAKADAKA WHUMP VWRRRRRR Vinyl's eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. "What is THAT?!" She yelled over the noise. The salespony answered, but she couldn't hear him, so the headphones were removed, her ears still ringing. "Dubstep," the pony repeated. "It's new." "...I want it." Vinyl said immediately, having never heard anything like it in her life. She snatched the record and forked over four bits for it, which the salespony swept under the counter. One lonely bit remained in her pouch, with none of its friends left to jangle against. "Got anything for one bit?" She asked hopefully. The salespony thought for a moment. "The candy machine?" He offered, gesturing to the brightly colored line of vending supplies by the door. Vinyl shook her head. "Well, tell you what," he said after a moment. He reached under the desk again and placed a large pair of round purple glasses on the counter. "Someone left these in here two weeks ago, and nopony's been back to claim them since. I was just gonna throw them out, but-" "Sold!" Vinyl declared, throwing her final bit across the counter and snatching up the obnoxiously bright lenses. She placed them on her nose, but they were far too large and covered up most of her face as well as her magenta pupils. She didn't care, she wanted them. She thanked the salespony, turned to head out, and promptly walked right into the door. The salespony winced. "Maybe put them on when you get home?" He offered. "Yeah," Vinyl agreed, and headed out the door, this time racing around the corner and heading for home.