An Increasingly Useless Guide to Being a Background Pony
Chapter 9: Untitled Document
Previous Chapter Next ChapterWow. Nine whole months since I last updated. Well, I’m off of hiatus, and I’m back to writing. This chapter is really short, but that’s only because of at the current moment there isn’t anything to write about.
I woke up the next day beside the green trashcan. It wasn’t too bad. California isn’t too great, though, it’s pretty warm here most of the time. Anything above 74 I don’t like.
Standing up I took a look at my surroundings. Somewhat trashy, old, and something else that I really hope isn’t urine on the ground. Not too bad for California, right?
I shuffle out into the street, and stretch for a couple seconds. Was it still morning? It was somewhat brisk and the ground seemed to be slightly damp. I moved my hooves around in it for a bit in a short-lived attempt to get some of the dirt off before I realized doing it on concrete wasn’t too great of an idea.
Moving out to the street, I started to trot down the sidewalk.
I walk into a mini-mart. It was actually fairly large unlike the name intends. I grabbed a small bottle of coke and a bag of barbecue chips. I guess I hadn’t really had barbecue chips in a while.The last time I had them they just tasted like peanut butter.
I place the two items on the counter. The man, of course, stared for a bit before actually scanning the two items. He started to chit-chat.
“A bottle of coke and a bag of chips? Shouldn’t you be eating… healthier?”
I grunt and circled my hoof. “Yeah, and money is grown on trees”
The man does the same, excluding the sarcastic hoof movement. “Your total is 2.68, ma’am”
I reach into the tattered satchel and pull out a five thats crumpled up from just being thrown in there without care. I place it onto the counter, the hopefully not-something-gross taste lingering in my mouth.
He grabs it, flattens it out and gives me back two one dollar bills, a quarter, a dime, a nickel, and two pennies. I scrape them into my satchel as well as the refreshments and trudge back out into the city.
Wait. What was I supposed to do? Why am I even here? Oh don’t tell me I flew to California for nothing.
“C’mon! Think! Something about going to New Jersey? No, that can’t be right.”
I sit down in my frustration, hastily reaching into my bag and grabbing the coke. Opening it, I chug down about half of its contents, somewhat satisfied afterwards.
My nose.
I forgot about yesterday, though the sudden pain emerging from it helped jolt my memories. Seemed like it was a long time ago, huh?
I reach into my bag and pull out a small plastic bag of painkillers, downing one, and putting the rest back.
I scratch my head. The streets were still rather quiet. The streetlights were off, of course. I wonder You are a classical pony if the street light are a classical pony?
You are a classical pony. You are Octavia Philharmonica. You are a classical pony
I’m standing there… So many ponies watching. A cello? Of course- not a silly double bass. And I’m… playing it? Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? The song is good too- I think it’s actually my favorite piece that I have written so far. That double string chord progression? Nice. And is that… Vinyl? In the crowd? Oh…
I scratch my head for the third time.
“Odd” I say, trotting off some more.
Hopefully these thoughts won’t come again soon.
They bring back bad memories.
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