My Little One Shots

by Dashea Rayne

Journey to the Centre of Pinkie's Mane

Journey to the Centre of Pinkie’s Mane

Journal Entry: ≥

I clamp my jaws firmly to my owner’s tail as she bounces about the kitchen, preparing a variety of cupcakes, muffins and peanut butter cups for an event that is to be hosted later today. From where I hang, I watch as she picks up one of the muffin tins using her mane, bounce over to one of the stoves and deposit it into the oven, all the while singing the Cupcake Song.

The world around me swings wildly as she turns and bounces back to the island counter in the middle of the room. Shifting, I leap up and clamp myself onto a different section of her tail as she starts filling another muffin tin, commenting how awesome the tea party for Strawberry Fields is going to be. From the section of tail I’m clamped onto, I see before she does when her Cutie Marks activates. Seconds afterward, she notices and pulling me off her tail, she whispers in a confidential tone, “You know what this means?” as she indicates toward her flank and looking wildly about, as if to make sure she is alone, she hisses out, “The maaaaap!”

I know this. Just I know that she’s likely to leave me to watch the food cooking, leave me with the other pets or, and this one I’m hoping for, deposit me in her mane. Setting me on the counter, I figure she’ll leave me there, with explicit instructions on how to bake the various goods. Bounding over to the stove, she checks the oven before coming back and picking me up.

Humming something, she places me on her head, turns and vaults out of the kitchen. Using my jaws, I clamp onto her mane, holding on as she rockets through Ponyville. When she reaches the castle, only then does she slow down, allowing me to loosen my grip as she enters. Patiently I wait as she jumps down the hall and when she comes to the room containing the map, I slowly begin to burrow my way into her mane, figuring her mind would be on her friends and whatever task the map was about to set them on, thus allowing me to continue with a quest I have set myself upon some time ago.

I really do not know how it works, but some moons ago I had discovered something interesting, and truly weird, about my owner’s mane. I have sat upon the head’s of other ponies and never noticed anything like it. For my owner’s mane contains a whole other realm within. And thus, shortly after discovering this, I had set myself with the expedition of exploring and finding the centre of her mane. A mission I have had no luck completing, as every time I venture within her mane, it is always different.

This made the journey difficult, as I’m not sure if I have even come to the centre of her mane, though I am certain that I haven’t and would know if I had. I do not believe I would reach the centre this time, though it would be interesting to see what I’d find this time. And so, making my way past the usual odds and ends, which also changed, I barely blinked an eye as I pass several scrolls, candy, a measuring cup, a blackish purple stone that is giving off an odd aura and felt like it was waiting to be given to some sort of creature not of this world, a book, various objects starting with the letter Q, several gold medals with interlocking rings pictured on them, a pitchfork, a signed autographed picture from Lauren Faust, and several tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala, all dated three moons from now.

I knew I am getting somewhere when the various bits of whatnot slowly taper off. As usual, there’s a bright light and stepping toward it, I find myself looking at what appeared to be a music studio. On one end is the pony I recognise to be Octavia Melody. Across from her was the one called Vinyl Scratch, who often uses the stage name DJ Pon3 when performing for crowds.

Watching the two ponies, I realise that they are engaged in an argument of which is better: Classical or Dubstep. There are no words used, for their argument is delivered in the form of music, with Octavia being armed with her bow and Cello, and Vinyl equipped with her turntables and records.

The white Unicorn scratching out a quick phat beat, she waits while the goldish-grey coloured Earth pony retaliates with a series of scales. Vinyl counters with a sick series of rifts, which Octavia matches with a mixture of artificial and natural harmonics.

Back and forth the two go, each matching the other note for note, proving that each is just as good as the other and that there could be no victor in this debate. I myself am no real expert on music, my knowledge going only so far. Thus, watching this, I hope to fill in some of the greater gaps in my understanding. Yet, I could not also help but wondering what these two were attempting to prove.

If this dispute were a competition to determine who’s better, I could already, as I stated before, see that both Vinyl Scratch and Octavia Melody are exceptionally good and that there could be no winner. Perhaps it was meant to answer the question of which genre, Classical or Dubstep, was better. Yet, I could already tell that there could be no champion in such an argument. For each could not exist without the other, as they balanced each other out.

True, you could have Dubstep without Classical, but it would not be the same, for it could be contended that the invention of Classical music thus led to a cascade effect that culminated in the discovery and invention of Dubstep. Each genre had its pros and cons. Just as each appealed to certain individuals, some even liking both. So, if that was what these two ponies were trying to determine, they should know that they could be here, wherever here is, for a very long time, with no clear champion to be determined at any point. And finding myself back to pondering why it was they were engaged in the music debate, I flicked my tongue, licked my eye and watch them, searching for a reason for their gathering, filling in my fragmented knowledge of music as I do so.

As had happened in the past, just as I was deciding that maybe I should attempt to find a way beyond this studio, I abruptly feel something grab me and pull me out. Finding myself looking at my owner, I listen as she prattles on about how the map apparently didn’t need her, that it was sending the ones called Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle to Saddle Arabia, and that she, my owner, could go back to her baking. Taking this in, I stoically went over all I had seen, attempting to figure out why my owner’s mane was the way it was, why I had found what I found and if there was any lesson to be learned, while I wonder what I may see the next time I venture within the frizzled mane atop my owner’s head.

Author's Note:

This one is likely to have sequels to it