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Bar Scene: Showtime

By: TechyConversant on Jun 13th, 2012 | syntax: None | size: 8.20 KB | hits: 169 | expires: Never

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>Another night in the dive.
>Not that you mind, of course.
>You belong here, whatever that means.
>Your money is good, the bartender knows your favorite drink.
>Life as usual.
>Taking a sip of your standard, brandy, you hear the door open.
>You know this mare, as does many others.
>This time she's not a depressed wreck.
>She's not even here to get drunk.
>Trixie's here for business.
>She has a gig here tonight.
>You made especially sure to be here tonight to see it.
>...but you know you would have been here anyway.
>"The Great and Powerful Trixie demands another glass of wine!"
>She's using the third person voice again.
>That's an awkward combination of good and bad.
>Good because it means she's in high spirits.
>Bed because you have to listen to it.
>Drinking all the brandy in the world wouldn't be enough to escape the third person.
>Won't stop you from trying, though.
>Downing another glass, you look to your companion.
"You think you're ready?"
>She scoffs at your 'bravado', as you're sure she would call it.
>"You dare insinuate that Trixie would ever not be ready for a show?"
>You dared.
"Trix, this crowd isn't like your other venues, you know."
>"How so?"
>A quick glance around the establishment was all it took.
>You knew this.
>She apparently didn't.
>To her, the world was a stage that was always watching.
>Unfortunately for her, the watching eyes weren't always waiting for the next trick.
>Those that weren't already glaring at Trixie's pre-show performance were thinking about doing so.
>The bar p0nies weren't like the awe-struck masses that loves watching flashy fireworks.
>You could swear they were praying for her next mess-up.
>Trixie seems to be handling it well, by either being completely ignorant of this fact...
>...or drowning herself with wine.
>"You don't need to worry about Trixie, Anon. The show will be FANTASTIC!"
>She throws her arms up in cheer, almost falling out of her stool.
>The only thing preventing her from crashing into the ground was you holding her up.
>That hold quickly changes to a grab, and you pull her out of the stool.
>"Hey, unhand Trixie!"
"Shut up."
>The prying eyes quickly dissipate as you pull Trixie out of the bar and through the back exit.
>"What are you doing?!?"
>You made it out of the bar, now stationed in the ever so pristine back alley.
>First order of business.
"Trix, you gotta understand something about that crowd."
>"Trixie doesn't need help with her act!"
"I'm trying to make sure you don't screw this up!"
>"Screw it up? The Great and Powerful Trixie would never!"
>This is getting fucking old, fast.
"Trix, listen to me, or you're going to-"
>"GOING TO WHAT? Fail? Make a flank of herself? Get run out of town again?!?"
>Tears are forming.
>Oh god damnit what did you do.
>"You think Trixie can't handle that again? Everyp0ny hating her?!"
>The tears fall down her cheeks.
>You gotta stop this.
>"Trixie doesn't CARE what they think ab-"
>Before she starts going hysterical, you act.
>The force of the slap not only shuts her up completely, it turns her face slightly.
>Before she can react, you grab her head and hold it still.
"Listen. To. Me."
>You've never slapped anyone before.
>Ever.
>Let alone a woman.
>Or female p0ny.
>You always held yourself with the air of a gentleman.
>But this sent you over the edge.
>For a while you've seen that mare walk in and out of this bar the same way.
>Confident on the intake, depressed on the downslope.
>Every time you shared your drinks with her to make up for the fact some p0nies didn't appreciate her parlor tricks.
>Every time she would blame something rediculous, or say the crowd wasn't ready.
>This crowd is ready for a show.
>That mare can put one on.
>And you're going to make sure it goes smoothly.
>You're met with a subtle nod, tears still present.
"You're a performer, are you not?"
>She nods.
"And performances change over time, right?"
>"Yeah..."
>Good, you're getting through.
"You have one shot to make these people like the act, and I'm not gonna let you mess this up."
>Looks like the tears have stopped.
>"I...Trix...I'm sorry..."
>She wipes away what's left from her cheeks.
>"I just couldn't handle that again...not here..."
"Then you need to put your nose to the grindstone and give these people something to cheer about."
>With a smirk, the old Trixie is back.
>"Alright!"
"So, here's what-"
>"Can Trixie keep talking in the third person?"
>...
>About an hour later...
>The crowd has arrived, at last.
>Seats are filled up, drinks have been served.
>You sit at the stool up at the counter, your usual spot.
>The bartender gives you a cold beer.
>Not your usual drink, but you don't want to be too drunk for this performance.
>After all, you helped her set it up.
>Here's hoping she took your advice.
>A red curtain covers most of the stage.
>The lights dim across the bar.
>It's time.
>Once the bar is pitch black, a spotlight snaps on, pointing towards the stage.
>In the background, a light piano kicks in.
>It's a light tone, matching the anticipation in the air.
>People shuffle in their seats, more than ready for the great reveal.
>And when the curtains open, the reveal is no less than great.
>The blue mare walks out on stage in a dress that is no less than classy.
>A few steps towards the crowd, and she turns her head up.
>The look of worry plastered on her face is obvious, at least to you.
>She wasn't used to this set up.
>You know it will work though.
>She goes to speak, and nothing's coming out.
>Oh no, no no no.
>She's choking.
>You aren't letting this go that easy!
>Bringing a hand to your face, you put two fingers in your mouth, and let loose a whistle.
>The kind of whistle a construction worker would toss at a passing girl.
>Most of the time it would inspire embarassment.
>But not this time.
>That was the vote of confidence she needed.
>The look of worry changes to a sultry grin.
>"Hello boys and girls, and welcome."
>With a turn, she tosses a glance that would knock any stallion off their feet towards the audience.
>"If you're interested in feats that shock and amaze, look no further than Trixie~"
>Her dulcet tones are meant to entice, and they are doing just that.
>A cheer comes from the audience, followed by a few others.
>You knew the crowd loves a little bit of flair.
>Just not the flair she had in mind.
>No, this is the way to go indeed.
>You chug down some of your Blue Ribbon.
>All going well, it seems.
>"So, who wants to see Trixie..."
>She flips her hair slightly, looking towards the audience once more.
>"...perform some 'tricks'?"
>They cheer her on, and the show goes on marvelously.
>It wasn't your normal magic show.
>The tricks were performed with a certain style that screamed elegance, in a way elegance can be screamed without it seeming unelegant.
>The way she walked, talked, and performed oozed class and grace.
>Truly a sight to behold.
>Much better than her usual drabble of performing parlor tricks and challenging p0nies.
>You won't tell her that though, she'd get offended.
>The show ends, and the crowd applauds wildly.
>The Great and Powerful Trixie strikes again, you suppose.
>Turning back to the bar, you decide to finish off the night the right way.
>A celebratory sparkling champagne, for the successful show.
>As your back is turned to find the perfect bottle, a certain blue mare leaves the stage.
>She walks towards a certain person, who happens to not be looking.
>Wait, not looking?
>Has he been there the whole time?
>Was he even watching the show?
>It was too dark...
>When she goes to see this particular person, she's stopped.
>By quite the handsome stallion.
>He seems so nice...
>Is he asking her to leave?
>Well...
>He's still not looking...
>He clearly didn't appreciate the performance.
>She takes the stallion's side, and leaves with him.
>Okay, you picked out the perfect bottle...
>...and when you turn around, she's leaving.
>With a stallion.
>You sigh and crack open the bottle.
>Cheers to a good show, you suppose.
>The glass remains untouched as you drink straight from the bottle.
>Why should you care that she's leaving?
>As you look back one last time, her eyes connect with yours before she walks out the door.
>Yeah...
>...why should you care...

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>Another night in the dive.
>Not that you mind, of course.
>You belong here, whatever that means.
>Your money is good, the bartender knows your favorite drink.
>Life as usual.
>Taking a sip of your standard, brandy, you hear the door open.
>You know this mare, as does many others.
>This time she's not a depressed wreck.
>She's not even here to get drunk.
>Trixie's here for business.
>She has a gig here tonight.
>You made especially sure to be here tonight to see it.
>...but you know you would have been here anyway.

>"The Great and Powerful Trixie demands another glass of wine!"
>She's using the third person voice again.
>That's an awkward combination of good and bad.
>Good because it means she's in high spirits.
>Bed because you have to listen to it.
>Drinking all the brandy in the world wouldn't be enough to escape the third person.
>Won't stop you from trying, though.
>Downing another glass, you look to your companion.
"You think you're ready?"
>She scoffs at your 'bravado', as you're sure she would call it.
>"You dare insinuate that Trixie would ever not be ready for a show?"
>You dared.
"Trix, this crowd isn't like your other venues, you know."
>"How so?"
>A quick glance around the establishment was all it took.

>You knew this.
>She apparently didn't.
>To her, the world was a stage that was always watching.
>Unfortunately for her, the watching eyes weren't always waiting for the next trick.
>Those that weren't already glaring at Trixie's pre-show performance were thinking about doing so.
>The bar p0nies weren't like the awe-struck masses that loves watching flashy fireworks.
>You could swear they were praying for her next mess-up.
>Trixie seems to be handling it well, by either being completely ignorant of this fact...
>...or drowning herself with wine.
>"You don't need to worry about Trixie, Anon. The show will be FANTASTIC!"
>She throws her arms up in cheer, almost falling out of her stool.
>The only thing preventing her from crashing into the ground was you holding her up.
>That hold quickly changes to a grab, and you pull her out of the stool.
>"Hey, unhand Trixie!"
"Shut up."
>The prying eyes quickly dissipate as you pull Trixie out of the bar and through the back exit.

>"What are you doing?!?"
>You made it out of the bar, now stationed in the ever so pristine back alley.
>First order of business.
"Trix, you gotta understand something about that crowd."
>"Trixie doesn't need help with her act!"
"I'm trying to make sure you don't screw this up!"
>"Screw it up? The Great and Powerful Trixie would never!"
>This is getting fucking old, fast.
"Trix, listen to me, or you're going to-"
>"GOING TO WHAT? Fail? Make a flank of herself? Get run out of town again?!?"
>Tears are forming.
>Oh god damnit what did you do.
>"You think Trixie can't handle that again? Everyp0ny hating her?!"
>The tears fall down her cheeks.
>You gotta stop this.
>"Trixie doesn't CARE what they think ab-"
>Before she starts going hysterical, you act.
>The force of the slap not only shuts her up completely, it turns her face slightly.
>Before she can react, you grab her head and hold it still.
"Listen. To. Me."

>You've never slapped anyone before.
>Ever.
>Let alone a woman.
>Or female p0ny.
>You always held yourself with the air of a gentleman.
>But this sent you over the edge.
>For a while you've seen that mare walk in and out of this bar the same way.
>Confident on the intake, depressed on the downslope.
>Every time you shared your drinks with her to make up for the fact some p0nies didn't appreciate her parlor tricks.
>Every time she would blame something rediculous, or say the crowd wasn't ready.
>This crowd is ready for a show.
>That mare can put one on.
>And you're going to make sure it goes smoothly.
>You're met with a subtle nod, tears still present.
"You're a performer, are you not?"
>She nods.
"And performances change over time, right?"
>"Yeah..."
>Good, you're getting through.
"You have one shot to make these people like the act, and I'm not gonna let you mess this up."
>Looks like the tears have stopped.
>"I...Trix...I'm sorry..."
>She wipes away what's left from her cheeks.
>"I just couldn't handle that again...not here..."
"Then you need to put your nose to the grindstone and give these people something to cheer about."
>With a smirk, the old Trixie is back.
>"Alright!"
"So, here's what-"
>"Can Trixie keep talking in the third person?"
>...

>About an hour later...

>The crowd has arrived, at last.
>Seats are filled up, drinks have been served.
>You sit at the stool up at the counter, your usual spot.
>The bartender gives you a cold beer.
>Not your usual drink, but you don't want to be too drunk for this performance.
>After all, you helped her set it up.
>Here's hoping she took your advice.
>A red curtain covers most of the stage.
>The lights dim across the bar.
>It's time.
>Once the bar is pitch black, a spotlight snaps on, pointing towards the stage.
>In the background, a light piano kicks in.
>It's a light tone, matching the anticipation in the air.
>People shuffle in their seats, more than ready for the great reveal.
>And when the curtains open, the reveal is no less than great.

>The blue mare walks out on stage in a dress that is no less than classy.
>A few steps towards the crowd, and she turns her head up.
>The look of worry plastered on her face is obvious, at least to you.
>She wasn't used to this set up.
>You know it will work though.
>She goes to speak, and nothing's coming out.
>Oh no, no no no.
>She's choking.
>You aren't letting this go that easy!
>Bringing a hand to your face, you put two fingers in your mouth, and let loose a whistle.
>The kind of whistle a construction worker would toss at a passing girl.
>Most of the time it would inspire embarassment.
>But not this time.
>That was the vote of confidence she needed.
>The look of worry changes to a sultry grin.
>"Hello boys and girls, and welcome."
>With a turn, she tosses a glance that would knock any stallion off their feet towards the audience.
>"If you're interested in feats that shock and amaze, look no further than Trixie~"

>Her dulcet tones are meant to entice, and they are doing just that.
>A cheer comes from the audience, followed by a few others.
>You knew the crowd loves a little bit of flair.
>Just not the flair she had in mind.
>No, this is the way to go indeed.
>You chug down some of your Blue Ribbon.
>All going well, it seems.
>"So, who wants to see Trixie..."
>She flips her hair slightly, looking towards the audience once more.
>"...perform some 'tricks'?"
>They cheer her on, and the show goes on marvelously.
>It wasn't your normal magic show.
>The tricks were performed with a certain style that screamed elegance, in a way elegance can be screamed without it seeming unelegant.
>The way she walked, talked, and performed oozed class and grace.
>Truly a sight to behold.
>Much better than her usual drabble of performing parlor tricks and challenging p0nies.
>You won't tell her that though, she'd get offended.

>The show ends, and the crowd applauds wildly.
>The Great and Powerful Trixie strikes again, you suppose.
>Turning back to the bar, you decide to finish off the night the right way.
>A celebratory sparkling champagne, for the successful show.
>As your back is turned to find the perfect bottle, a certain blue mare leaves the stage.
>She walks towards a certain person, who happens to not be looking.
>Wait, not looking?
>Has he been there the whole time?
>Was he even watching the show?
>It was too dark...
>When she goes to see this particular person, she's stopped.
>By quite the handsome stallion.
>He seems so nice...
>Is he asking her to leave?
>Well...
>He's still not looking...
>He clearly didn't appreciate the performance.
>She takes the stallion's side, and leaves with him.
>Okay, you picked out the perfect bottle...
>...and when you turn around, she's leaving.
>With a stallion.
>You sigh and crack open the bottle.
>Cheers to a good show, you suppose.
>The glass remains untouched as you drink straight from the bottle.
>Why should you care that she's leaving?
>As you look back one last time, her eyes connect with yours before she walks out the door.
>Yeah...
>...why should you care...

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