A Song to Sing

by Odetodust

Sorting Things Out

Fraid stood in the door and appreciated his work. Charlie had only one spare room, and it just so happened to be his ‘junk’ room. The group actually had to make an effort not to be swamped by miscellaneous objects falling out of the room when they’d first opened it. That, and the smell wasn’t particularly pleasant either. Though his friend was embarrassed that everypony had to see the condition of his home, Fraid was actually a bit pleased that the challenge was put in front of him. With the room being so messy, the duty fell to him to get the thing cleaned up. It took him hours, but he was glad to have the time to himself. He needed to plan his next move, after all.

And plan he did. Even though, they certainly had plenty of funding considering what Creed had liberated from their inheritance, he made it a point to think minimalistically. First on his shopping list was a bunk bed. He wasn’t too keen on using Charlie’s air mattress forever, and there wasn’t enough space to fit two beds. Oddly enough, there was already a closet and a dresser, seeing as this was meant to be a guest room, after all.

Next was food. When Charlie offered to get them food, he quickly retracted the offer after taking a look inside his refrigerator. That would have to change, and there was a chance Fraid would even invest in a food storage separate from Charlie’s. All in due time, though.

But that still left one thing that worried him more than anything: Education. Fraid Script was no fool, and so he was well aware that no amount of bits would last forever on its own. Expenses would get the best of them eventually, and there was no way they’d be able to survive on minimum wage. All three of them had graduated high school, but none with particularly flying colors, as ironic as that may seem. Charlie seemed to be doing… Well, he was getting by, but that wouldn’t work for three ponies in the same home. Thus, Fraid bookmarked a list of local schools on his laptop before getting to work in their room.

Speaking of which…

According to a clock he’d found and plugged in, it was now about eight at night, and the Pegasus was proud of his work. Charlie had stated quite clearly that anything in there was trash if he didn’t want it, so Fraid took the chance to throw together some improvised decorations while he was cleaning. The torn wallpaper was brightened up by an old pack of stickers he found- Something he figured Creed’s admittedly childish self would like. Old Hearth’s Warming garland was strung up around the window, and they even had a set of lights if they were feeling festive. At one point, he’d found an old carpet that he dusted off outside before placing it in the center of the floor. Strange how much green was managing to seep into this room, not even considering the lava lamp he’d placed on the dresser with his laptop. It was a convenient set up, really, as the room was fit with one of those weird pieces that had two sets of drawers on each side of a large gap, allowing for plenty of room. He’d have to get a stool for it at some point.

His little self-worship session was cut short as Charlie showed up at his side. It seemed like he was going to ask him something, but he quickly forgot as he caught sight of the room that had been trashed beforehoof. “Dang, man!” he commented. “You should’ve gone for an interior decorating major or something. You can make any room look good.” “That’s because it wasn’t a room before,” Fraid countered, unable to keep a smirk from playing across his face. “It was a trash bin.”

Charlie raised a hoof to scratch at the back of his neck. “Yeah… Sorry about leaving you with that. Me and Creed were out shopping while you were taking care of this, and we kinda got carried away. “Fraid raised a brow on that, but the white Pegasus cut him off before he could ask. “Hey, we got what you said! Bed, food, sheets, all that fun stuff. We didn’t go blowing any of the money, so don’t worry about any of that.” “What did you do?” Fraid insisted, fearing what his thick-skulled friend may have screwed up this time. “Well…”

“M.U. FOREVER! WOO!”

Fraid’s eye twitched, and his friend planted a hoof firmly in his face. Without bothering to wait for the explanation, he went to investigate what his sister was shouting about.

“What are you-“ Fraid stopped dead once he caught up to her. She was grinning ear-to-ear, her eyes blocked off by a set of shutter glasses. A glowstick was hooked around one hoof, and she was wearing a tee shirt that had ‘MU’ printed on the front in bold green letters.

“…What does that even-“

“I can’t see a thing.”

Fraid tore the glasses off her sister’s face, not in the mood for her shenanigans. “What happened, what are you wearing, and what in all Equestria is ‘M.U.’?”

His sister was unfazed by his obvious frustrations, and it’s likely she didn’t even notice it. “Well,” she began, “While me and Charlie were out shopping for the stuff you told us to get, we stumbled into this group of ponies about our age who were shopping for pretty much the same stuff. We asked them why they needed a bed, of all things, and they said they were renovating their new dorm at ‘M.U.’, so I asked, ‘What’s M.U.?’ and so they told us it’s this ‘Maneton University’ place, and as it turns out…” She sat on her haunches, throwing her hooves in the air. “MU IS AWESOME!”

“What in the name of Celestia is so special that you got a tee shirt?” Fraid asked, finding it difficult to believe her sister was brainwashed so easily.

“Because there was a stallion there who’s a singer.”

“…Your point?”

“I think you actually know him from somewhere…”

“Your point?”

“I think you remember Swing Tune.”

Fraid Script froze at the mention of that name. Swing Tune was a legend in his eyes- A street pony who’d picked himself up and used his musical talent to make a living before going under the radar under the guise of having what he wanted: a normal life. “So let me get this straight…” “Yeah.” “…You met Swing Tune…” “Yep.” “And you spoke to him…” “Uh-huh…” “And he goes to a university here?” “That, and the donates to the place regularly, says it’s done him good.”

Fraid spun on a hoof and trotted back to his room. Once there, he logged into his computer again and went onto his browser. While he waited for Ping to finish loading his search request for ‘Maneton University’, he opened his bookmarks and deleted the school page. He wouldn’t need it anymore.