The Compendium Microfic Exhibition

by Compendium of Steve

Supply and Demand

"What? You have got to be kidding me! No way it costs that much!"

The music store clerk just tapped a hoof mindlessly on the countertop, not even looking at the seething customer before him.

"Sorry, I don't make the prices."

"But it's 'Mule from La Mancha'!" the customer, Patter, shouted. "It's, like, forty years old. No way it costs thirty bits!"

"Well, it's the only one in the store, and last I heard, forty years makes it an antique," the clerk said with a smug look. This only pissed off Patter more.

"This is an outrage! You win this day for now, wage slave, but I shall make that CD mine."

Patter stomped away from the counter, leaving behind his desired claim and an ever indifferent-looking clerk.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

---

Back on the streets of Ponyville, Patter was hardly two yards from the music store when he entered another tirade.

"I can't believe this. After weeks of perusing I finally find my prize, only to have it caged by the greedy claws of capitalism! Such ingrates; how else will I be able to practice singing 'The Impossible Dream'? Hardly any stage company plays it, and the Internet still doesn't exist for some reason."

He turned back to the store to raise a hoof in hateful defiance as he lifted his volume to the heavens.

"Do you not see the suffering you inflict on the everyday consumer, your very life source, ye damned LEECHES!"

A passing mother and child stopped at this exclamation, the mother looking more uncomfortable than perplexed, as was her son.

"Mommy, why is he yelling at the store?"

"It's because he doesn't have friends to teach him better. Always remember that."

The two scurried away in fear of getting involved in Patter's verbal crusade against the captains of industry. However, he turned inward instead and contemplated deeply, and also vocally.

"Hmm, in order to get what is rightfully mine, there is only one logical course of action..."

---

The city of Ponyville, nighttime. A lone hoodied figure stalked up to the music store window, brick in hoof.

"Anarchy!"

The brick was thrown through the oppressive pane of glass, allowing Patter to hop in and abscond with the captive soundtrack. Unfortunately, he then noticed the burglar alarm blaring as he made his exit.

"Who the hell installs an alarm system in this town?"

He didn't have time to further ponder the anomaly as the shouts and rabble of the local law reached his ears. Uttering a swear, he made off for the alleyways, but the cops were hot on his tail. Despite knocking over trashcans and some impromptu parkour, Patter found himself corralled toward the town hall. Rather than stop and surrender, he called upon his musical theatrical spirit and leapt up to the second floor, scaling the roof up to the top. By this time a crowd had gathered, and magically-trained spotlights were on him.

"Come down at once or we will fire!" the police chief ordered.

"Never!" Patter cried. "It's my duty, my PRIVILEGE to right your unrightable wrongs, ye fascists!"

The menace to societal order continued to climb up from hell for a heavenly cause until he made it to the very precipice of the building. With the grandeur of the moon at his back, Patter brought up his hooves, holding his prize in triumph. Just then there was a gunshot, and the CD flew from Patter's grasp. In desperation he reached out for it, involuntarily leaping from the roof in a dramatic fashion.

"~To reeeeeach the unreachable STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!~"

Thus the tyrant fell from his madness along with the cause of his downfall, and many an "iunno" was given that night by the populace at large.

But the show wasn't over, apparently, for at that moment someone in a suit holding a sword fell onto the roof of the town hall, bouncing across it and over the edge. He grabbed it just in time, right as a kook in a cape landed solidly a few steps from him. Waving his fashion about, the moon gleaming off a mostly hairless head, the man looked to the crowd below and called out to the night.

"~Let The Bass Kick O-oooooooooo AAAAE-A-A-I-A-U- JO-oooooooooooo AAE-O-A-A-U-U-A- E-eee-ee-eee AAAAE-A-E-I-E-A- JO-ooo-oo-oo-oo EEEEO-A-AAA-AAAA!!"

The citizens could only dance wildly as rave lights flooded the town square and every foundation shook to a mighty bass. However, the suit with the sword seemed the only one unaffected, as he pulled himself up onto the roof and, once sure-footed, charged and swiped at the emcee. Said emcee spun away, his face red from both singing and indignation.

"Don't disrupt me when I'm SINGING!!"

His attacker paid no mind as he raised his sword once again, but he didn't have time to bring it down as the party master turned, dropped to his hands and delivered a mule kick to the swordsman's chin, launching him high up into the night sky—>

---

Atuhor's Nose: What's this I don't even...

(A cookie to the one who knows the above reference)

Comments

[Themaskedferret]

If I knew what tags or even a one sentence description of each story I'd be way more likely to read this

[Compendium of Steve]

2544701
Guessing is part of the fun, though

[Themaskedferret]

2544889 Normally yes:P But I don't always want to read tragedy or comedy

[Compendium of Steve]

5337375
Well ain't this a holiday treat. Glad to have amused you, although as some of our contemporaries pointed out, it just isn't "pony" enough.

[Compendium of Steve]

5730670
She was going after those ghostly images. Resurfacing sorrow tends to make you a little crazy :P

[Compendium of Steve]

5893974
You know it's weird seeing these comments of yours spaced out by several weeks, but whatevs :P
As for the pun, that's an easy enough fix. Just go in and... there, all gone! The benefits of working in a digital medium, eh? ;)

[PresentPerfect]

What.

[Compendium of Steve]

6282028
Because what would a Compendium of Steve collection be without some utterly insane characterizations based around random pop culture references? :P