//------------------------------//
// Finding a Way to Help!  Derpy's School Talent Show! 
// Story: The Adventures of Derpy, Lyra, and Octavia 
// by IsabellaAmoreSirenix 
//------------------------------//

"It's dreadful, simply dreadful!"

Octavia flipped her mane to curl around the right side of her neck.  "Could you pass the orange juice, Derpy?" she asked politely.  "I think Lyra's face is about to spontaneously combust, so we'd best have liquids on hoof to douse the subsequent flames."

Derpy giggled, then slid the jug across the cafeteria table.  "Could you hoof me a muf--?"

"How you two wound me!" Lyra exclaimed.  "You, who I called my friends!  This isn't my typical breakdown!  This is actually important!"

"I sometimes wonder if in your childhood you ever decided to eat a tape recorder, and it keeps replaying in your stomach.  It'd explain quite a bit about you."

After gulping down a piece of her waffle, Derpy asked, "What's the matter?"

Octavia briefly glanced at the newspaper in Lyra's trembling hooves.  "If it's something about the nobility being stupid and the princesses having to clean up the mess, it's nothing we haven't heard before."

"No!" Lyra cried, about ready to tear out her mane.  She thrust the school newspaper into Octavia's hooves, knocking her buttered toast to the ground.  "Turn to page three and read the headline!"

Octavia's eyes narrowed in suspicion.  "'Its Happening!" she read in her monotonous voice.  "Princess Luna's Academy Holds Auditions for It's First Annual Talent Show!' So it's an excuse for a bunch of the student body to make fools of themselves in public, what else is new?"

"Ooh, a talent show?" Derpy asked.  "That sounds like fun!"

"No, in the headline!" Lyra cried.  "Look, just look!  The 'its' in the first sentence should have an apostrophe, while the 'it's' in the second should have none!  What, did that apostrophe have such rebellion in its heart that it chose to wander so far from its proper destiny in life?  Is this the terrible fate of journalism, that illiterate monkeys bang their heads on typewriters in order to spit garbled-up news in our faces?  It's a travesty, I tell you, and I won't stand for it!  Something must be done!"

Octavia's eyes searched Lyra's for a second, then she quietly reached for another piece of toast.

"Could I see the paper, Octy?" Derpy asked.  She flipped to page three once again.  "Hmm," she said, munching thoughtfully on a piece of toast, "it says that auditions are tomorrow after eleventh period in the auditorium, and that ponies can try out in groups of three.  Plus, all the proceeds will be donated to the Canterlot Foals' Hospital!  Oh girls, wouldn't it be so much fun to do a routine together?"

"Well, now that I think about it," said Lyra, "I've always wanted to explore stand-up comedy.  It'd be a new type of writing to explore, don't you think?"

"I suppose we could go the 'try something new' route with comedy... if, of course, we wanted to fall flat on our faces in front of our friends," said Octavia.

"Nice alliteration!" said Lyra.  

Octavia smiled.  "Thank you!  Now, I feel that we're going to enter as a group, we should stick to what we know.  So..."

"If you say we're going to play instruments, I will be so many kinds of disappointed in you," said Lyra.

Octavia closed her mouth.

"Come on, we have to be creative in our routine!" Lyra insisted.  "Comedy routine, who's with me?"

"You can do what you want," said Octavia, crossing her forelegs, "but I'm sticking to my cel--"

"Oh, can't we all do a routine together?" asked Derpy.  "Lyra, you can play an amazing bass!  And Octy, isn't calamari funny?"

Both mares stared at the pegasus.

"Never mind..." whispered Derpy, blushing.

Octavia reached out a gentle hoof to tap Derpy on the shoulder.  "And what would you like to do for the talent show?"

"Well..." She twisted a lock of her golden mane around her hoof.  "I don't think ponies would like to see somepony paint as an act... Oh, that reminds me!  I need to write myself a note to get new paints from the art room for my project."

"Oh, you have one of those projects too?" asked Lyra as Derpy tore a corner of the newspaper on which to write.  "That first draft I have due..."  She threw her hooves up in the air.  "Oh well, participating in a charity is far more important!"

"For once, I'm inclined to agree with you," said Octavia.

"Do you think... if you're set on performing separate acts... that maybe I could join one of yours?" asked Derpy tentatively.

"Of course!" said Lyra with her typical beaming grin.  "Which would you like to do?"

Derpy hesitated, then slowly turned to Octavia.  "I did play the tambourine in my third grade school play..."  





Derpy looked to the ground, downcast.  "You're angry at me, aren't you, Octy?"

"No!" exclaimed Octavia, just a little too quickly, a little too loudly, and a little too high-pitched.  "No, everything's fine!" She ran a shaking hoof through her frazzled mane.  "Let's just try it again!  Pick it up from measure... measure..."  The musician sighed.  "Measure 1, okay?"

Derpy nodded, less than enthusiastic.

"And a-one!" said Octavia, hooves ready at the strings of her guitar.  "A-two!  A-one, two--!"

Ching-ching-ching!

Octavia sighed, and Derpy dropped her tambourine.  "Too early again, right?" the pegasus asked.

"Yup. But it's alright!" said Octavia, trying to twist her face into a smile.  "So maybe the tambourine's not your speed.  That's fine.  How about... er..." Her eyes scanned the music room. "How about the bugle?"

"We tried it," said Derpy flatly.

"The ukulele?"

"Tried it."

"The bassoon?"

"Tried it."

"The saxophone?"

"Tried it."

"The xylophone?"

"Tried it."

"The sousaphone?"

"Tried it."

"...Anything ending with phone?"

"We haven't tried phoning for government intervention.  Though I think anypony who walked by here already has."

Octavia's eyes softened in pity as Derpy flopped down, lifeless, into a chair.  "Oh Derpy..." She walked towards Derpy with her forelegs held stiffly in front of her.  She stopped in front of the chair, looked confusedly at her outstretched legs, then settled for a clumsy little pat on the head.  "I'm sorry for this, but the school doesn't have any musical saws.  There must be something else that you can play, though.  Have we tried the musical triangle yet?"

Derpy shook her head.

"Well, let's try it out then!" she said, clapping her hooves together and giving Derpy her biggest, best smile.  In response, Derpy picked herself up and started walking like a creature out of the Trotting Dead.

"So this is looking on the bright side..." mumbled Octavia while watching Derpy head for the musical triangle.  "Yikes."

Then she briskly trotted over to the stand holding Derpy's copy of the sheet music. "Okay, Derpy," she said, "you come in here."  She placed her hoof over a measure.  "Follow along as I play, and I'll look at you as your cue to come in.  Alright?"

Derpy nodded.  "Alright," she whispered.

Octavia shook off her concern as she picked up her acoustic guitar and began playing chords that vibrated throughout the entire room.  Her hooves were light and nimble, caressing the strings with the gentlest of touches to produce a sound of sonorous grandeur.  Finally, she glanced over at Derpy.

Ding!  The ending note rang into silence.

For a moment, both mares stood in the deafening quiet.

"I'm going to see how Lyra's act is coming along," said Derpy.

Octavia nodded emphatically.  "That sounds like a wonderful idea, darling."





"Oh my Celestia, she broke you, didn't she?" Lyra said with a gasp when Derpy walked into the room.  The budding author stood up at once and began to circle around her friend.  "Your wings are limp," she noted, "your head is low, your legs are like lead, and your face..." Lyra's eyes widened in horror.  "You're not smiling!  Oh, Derpy!" Lyra gave Derpy an anaconda-like hug.  "It's alright!" Lyra said.  "This disaster can be easily fixed with two things: the number of the music room, and an ungoddessly amount of pepper spray."

Derpy smiled a little.  "Lyra, it's okay," she said.

"No, it's not, but it will be soon.  Fortunately for us, you came to the right place.  After all, what's better for cheering somepony up than a comedy act?"

It was like a little knob in Derpy's back was winding up her smile, notch by notch.  "Yeah!  Yeah, you're right!"

"Then let's get practicing!" she hoofed Derpy a scroll that trailed to the ground when unravelled.  "Here are the acts I've written up," she explained.  "Not joke after joke; you can't just sound like you're reading off a script when you're saying a joke, right?  That's just the general outline of where I think the act will go.  We'll get some audience participation, all that loveliness, but anyway, that's not important."  

Lyra booped Derpy on the nose.  "All you need to do, kid, is be my sounding board.  Ask the obvious questions, slip in some puns, basically have it so I'm not standing up there talking to myself.  Get it?"

Derpy nodded.  "Uh-huh!"

"Okay! Then here's our first trial run!"  Lyra turned to the rows of empty desks that served as her audience.  "So a Diamond Dog, a unicorn, and griffon walk into a sweet shop. The griffon says to the unicorn, 'I sure hate the government.'  The uni--"

"Aww, that's so mean!" protested Derpy.  "Why would any griffon say such a thing?"

"It's part of the joke, Derpy," said Lyra.  "It'll make sense at the end, I promise.  Anyway, the unicorn says to the griffon, 'Suuure, of course.  I bet ponies in Griffonia would be singing your government's praises.  Granted, of course, that they could talk with their heads mounted on spikes.'"

"But Griffonia's reformed!" said Derpy.  "They have a much more benevolent king who's in charge now!"

"Oh come now," said Lyra, "everypony likes a bit of political humor now and again, no harm by it.  Anyway, the Diamond Dog says..."

The imaginary dial on Derpy's back spun all the way down to jaw-dropped, eyes-popped, heart-stopped disbelief.

"And then everypony died by the poisoned soufflé!" Lyra finished.  "What did you think, Derpy?  Funny, right?"

Derpy sat huddling in a corner.

Lyra collapsed to her knees.  "My Goddess," she breathed, horrified. "I've turned into Octavia."

Very, very quietly, Derpy slipped out the door.





"It's no use," Derpy said to herself as she kicked a stray piece of paper along.  "I can't join in the talent show.  It's not going to work out, even though..." She sniffled, blinking rapidly.  "All I... all I wanted to do was... was..."

Just as she was about to turn the corner where the art room was located, Derpy screeched to a halt outside a classroom door, where two particularly distressed voices were emanating.  

"Oh, it's hopeless!" moaned Berry Punch, head in her hooves.

"No, it's not!" insisted Carrot Top.  "We can make it work; I know we can!"

"Not with Sea Swirl sick, we can't," replied Berry Punch with a sigh.  "I know... I know there will be other years.  But this year... it's been special, you know?  I guess all I wanted... all I really wanted to do..."

"...was help," Derpy breathed.





"Woo!" Lyra cheered as she trotted to the end of the line.  "Comedy act, Lyra, you've got this audition down!  Maybe you had to fix a few things, but it's good, it's all good now!  Just a little jab at the government, that's all!  What could go wrong?"

"...we remind ponies," said Miss Raven, speaking into the stage microphone, "that while we encourage individuality, we will be putting limits on what can or cannot make it into the actual performance.  Please keep in mind that Princess Luna will be our esteemed guest..."

Lyra's hooves trembled, shaking the parchment, filled with a plethora at crude jokes centered around the princess' reign.  

"I'm dead."





"Excuse me, miss?" said Octavia, delicately tapping a mare on the shoulder.  "Is this the musical section?"

The mare nodded enthusiastically, shaking her wavy blue and pink-streaked mane.  "Yes, it is!" she said, gesturing to the winding line of ponies in front of them.

"Oh my," said Octavia, "there certainly are a lot of tryouts."

"Yes, I was surprised myself," said the mare.  "And what are you planning to play for the show?"

"Oh, just a little medley of classical music on my guitar," she said, patting her case.

"Well that's a funny coincidence; I'm playing the guitar too!  And so are a lot of ponies, as far as I can tell!"

Perplexed, Octavia leaned her head far to the right.  Except for a few scattered exceptions, everypony in that line was carrying a guitar case.

"Oh buck."





"Hey, Octavia," said Lyra, scooting over to give the newcomer room to sit.  "You didn't make it in either?"

"Nope," replied Octavia, flopping down in her chair.  "After the seventeenth rendition of Concerto No. 9, my judges fell asleep.  How did your tryouts go?  Competition must've been steep in the comedy department, huh?"

"Hehe, yeah," said Lyra.  She discreetly kicked the pile of shredded parchment under her chair, where it would rot in shame for all eternity.  "So, any more acts trying out?  It's getting late."

"Just a few, I think.  Do you want to stay until the end?"

"Yeah, why not?" Lyra kicked up her hooves to rest on the back of the chair in front of her.  Who knows, maybe it will do good for my wounded pride, she added privately.

"And for our final music audition," said Miss Raven, "may I present a cover of "Isn't It Fine," originally performed by Sapphire Shores, with an alternate ending performed by Berry Punch, Carrot Top, and Derpy Hooves."

"Derpy?" the two mares said simultaneously.  "What's she doing here?"

They watched with wide eyes as the curtain rose, revealing Carrot Top on the fiddle.  Rising a bit more, there could be seen Derpy and Berry Punch, wearing silver and gold skirts respectively, and holding ribbons in one hoof and a microphone in another.  

The soft murmur in the auditorium slowed to a halt when the spotlight fell on them.  Under their chairs, Lyra and Octavia held hooves.

"Isn't it fine," sang Berry in a strong, resounding base, "to laugh when you're happy?  Isn't it fine to cry when alone?  Isn't it fine to live in the sunlight?  Isn't it fine to leave stars alone?  Everything has its purpose, everything has its time.  We had our time to love; now it's time to say goodbye."

Berry Punch spun in circles, ribbons trailing behind her in a rainbow, while Carrot kept playing the fiddle.  Derpy stood as still as could be.

"The stars are out tonight," continued Berry Punch, "dancing in the light.  They remind me of how we used to be.  Before we had to fight.  Isn't it fine to feel heartbreak, or sit and cry in the rain?  Isn't it fine to shy from the stars, when all they bring is pain?"

"It's fine..." came the breathy refrain.  "It's fine..."

So entranced was the audience by Berry Punch's dancing that nopony took notice of Derpy until the spotlights focused on her, hovering above the stage.  She raised the microphone to her lips. 

"It's fine," came Derpy's voice, a soaring soprano to mingle with Berry Punch's low voice.  "It's fine, it's fine, it's all very fine.  But is that what you want, to be fine all the time?  There's chaos and torment and love, swirling in the air, my love.  If you stay silent, you fall, my love.  There's orders and routines but at times, my love..."

The other two ponies melted away, leaving Derpy standing alone on stage.  "Isn't fine to cry when you're happy?  Isn't fine to stand up when you're sad?  Isn't it fine to work in the sunlight, then dance with me when night lands?"

The two ponies stopped singing.  "But where should we go?" Berry asked as the fiddle's notes became higher and faster, like tinkling bells.

Derpy smiled, unfurling her ribbons.  "Let me show you."

Then together they danced and sang:

"Come now, my love, to the garden of stars.

Where the ponies of nighttime do play.

For it's cool and it's bright and the moon's safe at night.

Come, my love, let's be up and away.

There's nothing to fear if you stay close to me.

We're soaring, we're falling, we're rising in song.

Don't close your eyes, lest you leave from this dream.

Come, my love, let's be up and along.

As the morning sun rises, the time's come to part.

Don't see it, don't see it, the moon holds us tight.

Silver's worth far much more than gold in my heart.

Stay, my love, it's a magical night."

And as Lyra and Octavia watched in breathless wonder, they couldn't hear the shakiness of some of her notes, nor notice the brief stumbles in her steps.  They didn't see the ditzy girl who dropped her books in the hallway, or the klutz who crashed into a tree whenever she flew.  The stage had transformed her into somepony new, yet her joyful smile was the same as ever.

"I've been filled with morbidity today," whispered Lyra, "but now... I feel like I could die, yet I don't want this to stop.  Is that normal, Octavia?"

Octavia leaned close and nuzzled Lyra's cheek.  "It's fine, you sentimental idiot," she murmured in reply, tears welling in her eyes.  "It's absolutely fine."