• Published 25th Dec 2014
  • 4,087 Views, 171 Comments

Simple Melodies are for Fillies - bahatumay

Introverted DJ Vinyl Scratch tries to win over a famous cellist while her roommate Lyra tries to figure out where she stands with the candy maker at the mall. It sortof works.

  • ...

At Work

Vinyl couldn't help but smile as she stood in line. DJ Pon3 was coming to this club in an hour and already the normal line was long enough to stretch around the block. While Vinyl Scratch was a small-time local celebrity who volunteered to do small shows for birthdays and neighborhood parties and such, DJ Pon3 was only known for huge shows at large clubs that left people deaf and exhausted but aching for more. People loved the music, club owners loved the profits, bouncers loved the overtime, Pon3 loved performing; it was an all-around win situation. For those who managed to get in, at least.

Lucky for Vinyl, she just so happened to have received a backstage pass. You know, for working with sound setup. And other important backstage-y stuff. Yeah.

She quickly arrived at the front of the VIP line and reached into her pocket for her pass.

Then her other pocket.

Then her back pocket.

Then her other back pocket.

Then both side pockets.

Then her bra.

And then she realized that she had forgotten her pass. She looked up sheepishly at the scowling bouncer.

“Uh... I'll be back,” she said, turning and ducking under the line before turning and sprinting desperately towards her house.

She really wished this wasn't such a common occurrence.

* * *

Vinyl sprinted back, extremely out of breath. Unicorns were not designed for constant physical exertion. At least, that's what she told herself.

She arrived, panting and out of breath. This only got worse as she noticed that the line now stretched around the next block.

Vinyl began hyperventilating. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. If she were late, that would do horrendous things to her reputation.

Desperately, she ducked under the ropes and tried to get in front, only to be blocked by a hand that looked about the size of a shovel.

“Back of the line,” he growled.

Vinyl desperately held up her pass. “Look, soundstage pass! I'm part of the sound crew!”

The bouncer paused, then examined the pass. He brightened slightly when he confirmed that this was not just a random hooligan trying to cut in line. “Running a little late, aren't we?”

“There will still be plenty for me to do,” Vinyl said with what she hoped passed for a disarming smile.

To be perfectly honest, it looked more like a nervous grimace. Either way, the bouncer shrugged and let her in.

Vinyl sprinted down the hall and darted into the green room. She fought to keep her breathing under control as she shakily reached into a pocket and withdrew a permanent marker. With practiced motions, she added the second note and connecting bar to the cutie mark on both of her shoulders, changing it from a simple single eighth note to the barred eighth that Pon-3 was known by. Her hands shook as she pulled on her black, mesh, fingerless gloves.

“I can do anything,” she whispered, trying to reassure herself. She pulled off her hair tie and shook her hair with her glowing hands, sending magic coursing through it and making it spike up. “Who managed to pull it together and survive the time all of the speakers blew out? Me.” She pulled off her jacket, revealing the ragged white shirt beneath. “Who managed to save the show after that drunk guy tripped over and shattered half my records? Me.”

Improvising as she got into character, she ripped off the bottom parts of her pants, burning the edges with her magic and making sure the ragged edges were not too stringy. “Who is the greatest DJ in the history of music?” She lit her hands and magically lifted the figurative army of glow sticks. “Me.” She clenched her fists, and as one they all cracked and began to glow brightly.

“I can do anything,” she whispered as she slid her tail and ears in place. She smirked as she put on her signature glasses. “Because I… am DJ Pon-3.”

* * *

DJ Pon-3 walked onstage, levitating a box of records behind her. Even though she was covered in glowsticks, the current DJ didn't notice her arrive.

He did notice when she stepped up next to him. “Requesting a song?” he chuckled.

“Nah. Requesting the decks.”

He looked over incredulously until he recognized the interrupter. “DJ Pon-3!” he squeaked, jumping and accidentally jamming a hand on the record that was currently playing. It sent an awful scratch and blood-chilling feedback through the speakers, and the party ground to a halt as the disgruntled dancers looked for an explanation. Their annoyance turned to cheers and shouts as they recognized DJ Pon-3.

She lifted the scratched record off the turntable and saw that it was damaged beyond repair, so she lit her hand and burned her signature and cutie mark in it before giving it back to him. He stared at it in glee before realizing that he was holding up the party. He scrambled for his turntables, and Vinyl magically lifted her own onto the stand with a wave of her hand. She moved them like she was weaving a web, and her wires glowed and connected themselves to the building's system. She pulled her headset on, and it glowed blue as it made the connection. She grinned and walked out front, addressing the crowd. “Gooood evening!” she began. “How's everybody doing tonight?”

Loud cheers and whistles answered her.

DJ Pon-3 stumbled backwards dramatically, as if the sound itself was pushing her back. “Now that’s what I like to hear! I like you guys already,” she said, adjusting her hair as she straightened up. “So I've brought a little surprise for you!” She lowered her glowing hands to her sides, and then raised them above her head. A single record lifted itself out of the box, and laid itself on the turntable.

“I've got a brand new, never before heard single for you guys. I'm thinking you're gonna like it. But enough talk!” She backflipped over the decks and slammed a fist on the power button, sending music pounding through the air. “Let's do this!”