Now Approaching Midnight

by Roxy Shot

Float Up from Dream

Your body feels weightless as you drift through a warm void. Your hooves tingle with pins and needle like sensations as you try to move them closer to your body. You feel your mane and tail float effortlessly through space as if submerged in water, but in your lungs the sweetest smelling breath is inhaled and exhaled.

Your eyes flicker open and you find yourself sitting sideways on a soft and fluffy blue recliner. Your appendages hang off the chair as you roll your head from side to side trying to turn the world right side up. After a few attempts, you manage to sit upright in the chair and brush a lock of two toned orange mane out of your eyes. With a sigh you plop back into the chair's cushions and look around one of the living rooms of your new house.

Your parents sure knew how to live the life. The house was two stories with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. On the bottom floor were two spacious living rooms, the master bedroom, a bar and pool table, and a kitchen. Upstairs were the three guest rooms, a bathroom, and another living room type area. The place was now yours after your mother's passing. A nice ceremony had been held in her honor and the mayor of a small town called Ponyville had shoved a deed to your mother's house in your hooves between sobs. You had been living here for about a week now, or so you guessed.

Your stomach lets out an agitated growl and you sigh back at it. It seems that the neighponese and Gentlemen Buck Daniels from last night did not satisfy your stomach too well. Note to self, never mix neighponese and whiskey again. You then roll your eyes and hop up from the chair.

You then trot to the kitchen and slap a piece of toast in the toaster. A piece of bread in the toaster. When exactly does bread transcend being bread and become toast anyway? Your stomach growls again. Food, right. You let the soon to be toast start toasting and pry open the refrigerator, hoping for something better than toast. Fat chance, you still hadn’t been shopping in the last week. Oats it is then.

Once done making breakfast, you sit down at an oak table and consume freely. A breakfast of starch isn't what you had in mind, but it does warm your stomach and stop it's complaining. On the way back to the kitchen sink, you spot the love of your life out of the corner of your eye. You walk into the other living room with her and lightly caress the surface of her smooth vinyl. You then trace your hoof along the four channel mixer and across the turntable on the other side.

You had become a disk jockey from a young age, imitating and wanting to impress your father who was also a DJ. Your father only played local clubs and came out with two albums. Instead of touring Equestria, he stayed home with your mother and you, leaving you with a memorable childhood. He had passed away four years ago in a train accident on the way to DJ in Stallingrad for a college friend who was getting married. He passed a year after your first album had been released, at the time you were seventeen.

You then chose to work harder at your career and became a hit amongst the underground DJ movement. Along on tours, your mother was happy to let you pursue your dreams while she moved to the small town of Ponyville. You had offered to live with her, but she was a very firm mare in insisting you make the most of your young life. Six years and three albums later, your mother passed away due to type A influenza.

Your stomach growled again, snapping out of your day dream. Food, right. You left your DJ table and headed to the kitchen were you leave two large saddle bags for shopping days. You preferred buying in bulk, less price and you could last longer before needing to head into town. Strapping on your two bags, you lock the front door and head into the small town of Ponyville that you've not heard so much about.

You step out to the warm afternoon air and stretch out your wings to the fullest. Your buttercup yellow coat shines in the morning light and you pull your wings back to your side. You decide to walk to Ponyville and enjoy the radiant sunlight provided by princess Celestia.

Your house in only fifteen minutes to the center of Ponyville and already you can see various ponies have already set up shop. The market place is full of ponies of all kinds. Earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorn alike flood the streets in order to refill their pantries. To your right a brown earth pony with a jet black mane has a wagon filled to the brim with potatoes and to your left a light cream pony with a burgundy mane stands behind a stand with vases full of vibrant colored roses.

"Hey mister! Y'all lookin' fer some fresh apples today?" you hear a voice ask below you. Looking down you spot a young filly with a yellow coat and rose colored hair with a pink bow in it. She looks up at you with her large auburn eyes and waits for an answer.

"Yes, yes I would miss," you respond and follow her to a car full of red and green apples.

"Welcome," a giant red earth pony with a blonde mane nods at you. You nod back at him and begin to fill one of your saddle bags up with various apples.

"You new 'round here?" the stallion asks as you place a Braeburn in your bag.

"Yes, thought it would be a nice place to settle down," you lie.

"Names Big Mac," he says and holds a hoof out.

"Sam," you lie again. Sam had been pseudonym you commonly used on tour and ordering pizzas. The minute you let your name drop to someone, the press comes around the corner to stuff a microphone in you muzzle. If you really were going to say in Ponyville, it would be easier without reporters stalking you.

"Ten Granny Smith, five Red Delicious, ten Braeburn, and five Macintosh," you say as you finish filling up your saddle bag.

"Forty-five bits, how would ya like to come drinkin' with a few of the colts tonight, Sam?" he asks. You give him the bits and pause when your mind processes the question he just asked you. Drinking, with colts you've never met before. Ok, ok, you've been hit on by a few stallions on your tours, this is nothing new.

"Jus to meet some of the towns folk an welcome you to our town. Nothing fancy," he clarifies. Well, why not. You figure a break from your new house would do you good, and it's been awhile since you've made any new friends.

"Sure, I'm assuming you live on the only apple farm in town. When should I meet you?" you ask as you remember passing a large apple orchard on your way to town. You can't tell if Big Mac is pleased you accepted his invasion or not. His face still portrays the same bored look as it did when you met him.

"Eyup, Sweet Apple Acres is the name. We like to head out 'round seven," he responds in the same monotone voice.

"I guess I see you then," you reply and wave at him as you leave to finish your shopping.

* * *

You arrive home at three twenty-seven and spread out your saddle bags on the kitchen counter. On your adventure into town you bought thirty apples, three bunches of romaine lettuce, three bunches of red leaf lettuce, five carrots, and two six packs of Stallion Dew Amp Overload. Energy drinks had pretty much become your life blood after years of late night DJ-ing and you wouldn't want it any other way.

After putting your groceries away, you trot to the master bedroom and flop down on your bed. As much as your body wants to drift out of consciousness and rest, you remind yourself that there are things to do, like getting a shower and eating before meeting Big Mac and his friends for drinks.

You pull yourself up with a sigh and trot to the bathroom. You turn on the water and let it reach just the right temperature before hopping in. The water is warm to the touch and drenches your mane and coat. You give the water a moment to wash over your body and your thoughts before getting clean.

You don't take long in the shower; you never really do unless you end up staring off into space before a show. You quickly dry your body off, but take time on your wings. After you're satisfied, you throw the towel aside and walk out to your living room. You notice an open window and go to close it when you spot a multicolored speck in the distance. You narrow your eyes to get a closer look and find it is approaching very quickly. You try to move out of the way, but are too slow. The blue blur slams into you and sends you tumbling across the floor.

"Man, anypony get the number of that train?" you say and try to sit up, but you find your body pinned to the ground. You open your eyes and glance down to find a blend of red, orange, and yellow mane resting on your chest. The unidentified pony lifts its head and mumbles something unintelligible. She. This pony is a mare you notice as she lays sprawled out on top of you. She pushes herself up, using you as some kind of placemat and shakes her head. Her eyes finally flutter open and she finds her muzzle only a few inches from you.

"Boo," you whisper and she yelps and jumps off of you. She then begins to frantically string together multiple apologizes and explanations at once that turn out as a jumbled mess. You do however, manage to pick out the words: sorry, fast, trick, sorry, landing, wonderbolts, sorry, into you, and sorry.

"You know, thieves usually try to be stealth and quiet when breaking into someponies house," you explain to the cyan pegasus with the rainbow mane.

"W-what!? I'm not a thief," she exclaims when a surprised look on her face. You just smirk to yourself and decide to egg her on.

"You sure you're not one of those sexy bandits who steal from single handsome stallions like myself?" you ask.

"I'm not a bandit or whatever, I just accidently crashed into your house! Sorry," she explains as her face heats up.

"Not a bandit? What about sexy then?" You chuckle.

"Hey bub! I just so happen to be taken by Spitfire, you know who that is?" she mocks and sticks her tongue out at you
.

"Yeah, in fact I think I hear her calling. Outside," you retort and lead her to your door.

"Wait, seriously? Your a pegasus that doesn't know who Spitfire is? And why don't you have a cloud home like other pegasi?" she unloads question after question as you push her outside. Of course you knew how Spitfire was, but you seriously doubted that she would hook up with a mare, and one from a small town such as Ponyville. Spitfire was famous, and celebrities love to keep up their appearance you learned in the few years you had been touring Equestria. Not to say Spitfire was a shallow mare or anything, you had not met her.

"See ya sexy bandit," you say and close the door in her face. Well, that’s not the strangest thing you've ever dealt with. You just shrug it off however and trot to your kitchen. You take out one head of romaine and one head of green leaf lettuce. You make quick work of them with a kitchen knife and place the shreds into a bowl. You the garnish the salad with sliced carrots and small cubes of cheddar cheese.

As you ate your salad in silence, a new thought came to mind: How long were you going to stay here? You told Big Mac that you had come to Ponyville to settle down. Maybe you do need to settle down for a while. You then thought about leaving to go on tour again. You could sell the house and leave, or you could keep the house as a secluded get away place between tours. Your thoughts were then interrupted as you bit down on your fork. Your salad had run out. On your way to the sink, you check the oven's clock. It reads six thirty-four. You had better get moving to Sweet Apple Acres.

* * *

You arrive at Sweet Apple Acres a few minutes later and spot Big Mac and another stallion you have not met before. The mystery stallion has a pale yellow coat, a short blue mane and tail, and two bunches of green grapes as his cutie mark. You trot up to the two as they make idle talk and they turn to greet you.

"Glad to see ya made it, Sam. This is Colton Vines," Mac says and introduces his friend.

"Vines is fine, good to meet you Sam," Vines says and holds out his hoof.

"Good to meet you too Vines," you return his greeting and firmly shake his hoof. You then catch Big Mac and Vines nervously scanning the apple orchard. You try to follow their gaze, but you don't see anything out of the ordinary.

"We should git goin'," Mac states.

"I agree. We should make haste," Vines agrees. You raise an eyebrow to Big Mac and Vines in confusion, but they just nod back at you and begin to trot towards town.

"Waaaaaait!" you hear a voice sound far behind you. You turn to see a distant pale yellow and brown pony shaped speck running towards the group.

"Who or what is that?" you ask turning to Big Mac and Vines.

"...Caramel," they both answer while exhaling a held breath.

* * *
Author's notes: Ok readers, I have a challenge for you. Sam needs a real name. I want anyone who thinks of a name to leave it in the comment box and the most popular one will be his name in Chapter 2.

Also, any form of constructive criticism would be appreciated <3

Comments

[Dostoron]

... I don´t exactly get what the deal with Caramel is....
but as name I vote Boombox.

[Taranasauruso_o]

119062
Not a bad name, but, have you actually ever seen a boombox in FiM?
Boombox would be a cool name though...

How 'bout something like Bass Kicker? (elaborate on bass, I just like the name)

Also, stage name: DJ BRON-3. Slogan: music from the bronies, for the bronies.

[ooooo13]

Neon Spin? Idk lol
Def' interested in the story though, please keep it up..

[AppleRhythm]

Me vote for Gold Volt!
and Me think you spelled 'steal' wrong or was it suppose to be "*still* from single handsome stallions..."?

[Ponaygurl]

I would probably call Sam something like - Wait, can you tell me what his cutie mark is? Oh hang on, he was named before his cutie mark. Rythym Blaster.

[Roxy Shot]

119156
You are correct on the spelling. Microsoft Word is a horrible pre reader. I'm going to file a complaint.

[Bronyhood of steel]

amplitude

[Glassed]

This is really good Will continue
-Glassed