Vinyl Scratch is in Your Bed, Lighting it on Fire (Samey90)
Vinyl Scratch is in Your Bed, Lighting it on Fire
Samey90
The next day is probably one of the worst days in your life. You’re sitting in your workplace, doing your crappy job and dealing with your annoying colleagues, but you still can’t stop thinking about the pony that visited you just yesterday. Will she still be there when you get back home? Or maybe she’ll bring some friends, who will steal your TV and make a large hole in the roof for no reason?
As soon as your shift is over, you get your stuff and leave, thinking only of getting back home. What if it’s now infested by ponies? What if they got wet or had a snack after midnight and changed into some creatures just waiting to bite your ass off?
Shuddering, you get the key and open the door to your house. You rush to your bedroom. The house is silent, but you feel some terrible smell permeating the air. What if the pony got out of your bed and found the kitchen?
You practically kick the door to your bedroom open. You walk in, ready to fight, flight or–
“Easy, mate,” the pony in your bed says.
She looks a bit different than the last pony that visited you. Her coat is slightly yellowish. You try not to compare it to watered-down piss, but that’s your first impression. Well, that probably shows how crappy your life is. Maybe some psychologist would explain to you why you automatically associated that shade of yellow the way you did. Maybe they’d even figure out that you really, really love your mother.
She also has a two-coloured mane: blue and... a darker shade of blue? You wish your girlfriend was here – she was good at recognising colours and she even knew all those fancy names like cerulean, teal, cyan, and so on.
Oh wait, your girlfriend left you two weeks ago. It probably had something to do with all those ponies in your bed but you’re not sure. It might have been your diet as well. Or your salary. Or whatever, really. You’re a guy whose bed is being constantly invaded by ponies. Nobody who is sane can spend five minutes in the same room with you.
You’re still busy with staring at the pony, who wears a pair of absurdly large, purple sunglasses with almost opaque lenses. She also has a musical note on her flank – not that you were staring there. She’s just leaning in such a way that you see mostly her flank.
Also, something in the room smells terribly. You wince, approaching the pony. To think about it, you were in the room together for more than five minutes. She definitely isn’t sane.
“Who are you?” you ask, looking at the pony, who’s levitating a box of safety matches. When you look at the mattress behind her, you notice that part of it is charred.
“DJ PON3, at your service, mate,” she replies. “But you can call me Vinyl.”
“What are you doing here?” you ask, even though you gave up any hope long time ago.
“Dunno, I’m just lying here, mate. This bed is kinda comfy, you know.” Vinyl stretches her body and lights a match on fire. She puts it to the mattress, but nothing happens. After a while the match burns out.
“I know, it’s my bed. I sleep here, you know,” you say. “Also, stop calling me ‘mate’, okay? I’m not used to strange ponies calling me that.” Something tells you that you should sort out your priorities. You don’t exactly know why, but you feel that you’ll learn that soon.
“Chill out, dude.” Vinyl strikes another match and stares at it for a moment, before lighting your bedsheet on fire. You quickly grab a pillow and use it to put it out.
“What are you doing?!” you yell, grabbing the matches from Vinyl’s hoof and hiding them in your pocket.
“I’m trying to light that bed on fire,” Vinyl replies. “For some reason, the mattress doesn’t want to catch it.”
You start to wonder if there’s weed in the place those ponies come from. If it is, Vinyl is definitely a stoner. Or maybe she does mushrooms.
To think about it, what those colourful little ponies see when they hallucinate? Colourful little humans? Sasquatches swimming in the strawberry river? Though strawberry rivers are probably quite common in the land those things come from.
“You know, I think they make them that way,” you say. “So you don’t burn in your own bed.”
“That’s strange,” Vinyl says. “If the house is on fire, it doesn’t matter if the bed’s burning or not. You’re toast anyway, pun not intended.”
“Maybe they wanted to stop people who’d try to light their beds on fire.” You sit on the bed next to Vinyl. “Or ponies, for that matter.” You don’t think that Chinese company who produced your mattress ever contemplated the existence of ponies, but who knows? It’s China, after all. Maybe some old, grey-haired kung-fu master came to them from his cave in the mountains to warn them about ponies landing in your bed and lighting them on fire? Or maybe Mao wrote about ponies in his Little Red Book?
“Still, the bedsheets are flammable.” Vinyl points at your sheet, causing you to stop thinking about what Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Che Guevara had to say about ponies. Ponies of all the countries, unite? Every pony struggle is a class struggle?
Anyway, your sheets are now partially charred and smell of smoke. “Imagine a house burning,” Vinyl says. “Some dudes come to put it out and they find your charred bones lying on the intact mattress. How logical is that?”
“It’s not,” you say. “Maybe because no one with half of a brain lights a house on fire intentionally.”
“I once did,” Vinyl mutters. “And I have a brain. The doctors had to x-ray my head after my roommate smacked me with a cello. Like, ten times. They say that I have a brain.”
“Unbelievable,” you say. “One can only wonder how generous nature can be, sometimes. Also, why did you light your house on fire?”
“I wanted to see how it burns and replace all the stuff that was flammable with something safer.”
“You have problems, Vinyl.”
“Yes, half of the things in my house caught fire in seconds,” Vinyl replies. “Do you know how hard it is to find something that doesn’t do that, mate?”
“I can imagine,” you mutter. “The thing is, there are easier ways of fireproofing your house than burning it down.”
“That’s what my roommate said before attacking me with a cello.” Vinyl sighs. “She could never understand that I was doing that for her good.”
You think that you can relate here. Your previous roommate ran away through the window, previously writing “Burn!” on the wall of his room. Maybe he also cursed you? You make a mental note to find him and ask him about all those ponies in your bed.
Vinyl is just sitting on your bed silently. You think that maybe you hurt her feelings or something. Maybe burning stuff is the sense of her life?
“So...” you say. “Aside from experiments with safety matches... What do you do in your life?”
“Well, I sleep all days, party all nights... I’m a DJ, you know,” she replies.
It doesn’t exactly make your mood better. Some people are simply lucky. Or ponies, for that matter.
“Also, I tried to pick up my roommate, but I think she hates me now,” Vinyl says. “She moved to her mother and didn’t give me the address.”
“Well, she smacked you with a cello. Maybe in some cultures it’s a sign of affection?” You feel that it doesn’t improve her mood. But hell, her job is partying. Karma had to strike her, somehow.
“I don’t think she meant it,” Vinyl mutters. “She mentioned putting a bow in my–”
“Well, that could mean that she’s just kinky.” You smirk.
“She was rather aggressive about that.”
“Nothing’s better than a burning love...” You hit yourself mentally for that pun. Vinyl probably rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses.
“You know, I got a bit hungry,” you say, getting up from the bed. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Umm...” Vinyl bits her lip.
“What?” you ask. You have bad feelings about this.
“Umm...”
You sigh. “Say ‘umm’ again. Say ‘umm’ again, I dare you, I double dare you, mo–” You pause. You don’t know what kind of relationship Vinyl has with her mother, so you don’t want to imply anything. Also, no matter how you try, you don’t sound like Samuel L. Jackson.
To think about it, you don’t even know if ponies have mothers. Maybe they divide, like cells? You feed Vinyl too much chili and she suddenly you have two pyromaniac DJ’s in your house?
“Umm...” Vinyl smiles sheepishly. “So, you were gone for so long and I thought that I can do something for you, instead of just lying in your bed...”
“And...?”
Vinyl gulps. “I checked. Turns out, your fridge wasn’t fireproof...”
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5450510 Jesus, by that logic, I'm writing a "The Immortal Game" collab.
A story with Vinyl Scratch and not a single mention of wubs?! Blasphemy!
5450665
She probably uses them to put out the fires she created...
Goddamnit, Vinyl
Loving the story so far! Keep it up!
5449976
To the following extent, this one's my fault: I noticed the increasing number of 'ponies in your bed' stories after the recent Luna one hit the New column and put up this blog post suggesting we get it all over with at once. And then we found ourselves here. With ponies. In beds. Potentially so many ponies, although I'm not sure how many total beds we're going to wind up with.
Think of it as a tribute?
Er, I thought her coat was white.
i100.photobucket.com/albums/m19/deceptigtar/P1020060.jpg
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cdn1-www.craveonline.com/assets/uploads/2013/01/file_203259_0_Gremlins_Stripe.jpg
How does one feel a smell?
5450785 No, her coat is Cream (( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)) not white.
So you doesn’t burn in your own bed
You may want to fix that.
Possible corrections:
1. Also, something in the room smells terribly.
This chapter...I dunno.
The prologue and the Twilight chapter were hilarious. This sounded more like the writer was drunk at the time. In a bad way. It just wasn't funny, or interesting. Hopefully the next writer improved things...
So wait. On Chapter 2 now. Wasn't Twilight the first pony to pop up in his bed? Because he seemed to be quite surprised to find her there but never dived to much into it. "Like, hey, how'd you get in my house?" or "How are you even here?". And then in this chapter he refers to ponies appearing in his bed like a common occurrence that has been persisting since his roommate left (Roughly). So yeah can someone clarify.
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Mao Little Pony...
Well their went the fridge... It's not like I needed it to keep my food fresh or anything... I just had it sitting there for no real reason... I don't know why I even needed a fridge.
I hope this is blue
And
I hope this is darker blue
The whole world can literally burn if you get it hot enough. *Grins like a crazy person*
5455649
sp.yimg.com/ib/th?id=HN.607996197902155860&pid=15.1&P=0
I think I figured out why Vinyl acts (and smells) the way she does, she is 50%
and 50%
hey I just realized why Vinyl is yellow and why she stinks!
...EWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that's disgusting vinyl!
5458097
well, you aren't wrong.
Since when is Vinyl Scratch British? Here's a suggestion
5463547 Don't you mean Australian?
Pure, epic, win.
Wait, so Vinyl's an Australian arsonist?
Yeah.... no, can't buy it.
Especially after this:
Unless the character is severely colour blind, or I am.
Hm... Fanfic where ponies divide?
--Sollace
Crikey Mate, be careful or that space pony might burn down your space home. That's why you always keep a space extinguisher in space Australia.
5450785 i think it was originally going to be Spitfire, but some where it got changed to Vinyl.
...NOOO!!! My sandvich!
Haha, Vinyl Scratch, DJ and disorderly pyromaniac. I love it.
No, but I can do a half decent impression.
5458097
Don't tempt me.
9691365
derpicdn.net/img/view/2019/6/3/2056661.jpeg
Huh...