9:34 AM - Town Hall
"Two months; that's it," the mayor explained flatly as she slammed her folder of documents shut, glaring coldly and unflinchingly into the eyes of the pony across the table.
"Until?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Until your house is repossessed and you are forcibly evicted."
"You heard me."
"Ponyville's got repos?"
"You are literally too stupid to talk to. Two months, done."
but that's too soon," he stammered back. "C'mon, just give me another chance!"
"No, Basstrot. We've been through this. Too much of the taxpayer's money has gone into your benefits. I'm sorry, but we can't afford to keep doing this. Your career has barely made a hundred bits of profit."
"C'mon, I'm about to make it big-time!" he pleaded. "Just give me-"
"No!" the mayor interrupted, causing the white-coated pony to flinch. "Enough. Just no, Bass."
"But..." Basstrot started, only to trail off and close his mouth. The mayor sighed and began to collect up her documents.
"I'm sorry Bass, but you have to face it. Being a DJ may be your talent in life, but it won't make you any money. Maybe it's time to get a real job." With that said, she retrieved her remaining documents from the table and trotted out, leaving the disheartened DJ all alone.
10:02 AM - Boltstrike Thunderfire's house
"Remind me again why this is being held in my house," Bolt whined. The white-coated mare beside the dark-blue pony threw him an angry glare. Bass meanwhile sat with his head held in his hooves.
"We're here because if I break something I won't care as much," he said in a dull tone. Bolt eyed him coldly.
"Chora," he addressed the mare, but kept glaring at the DJ, "can you please make him leave before I hurt him." At this Chora sighed and rolled her eyes disapprovingly.
"Just help Bass and we'll be on our way," she stated. Bolt grumbled something incomprehensible and settled down into his chair.
"Maybe it's time to get a real job she says," Bass mimicked, his forehead planted firmly against the tabletop. "How can she say that?"
"You know, it may not be such a bad idea," Chora replied. Bass lifted his head up.
"Gee, thanks for the sympathy. It's not as if my calling in life really mattered anyway."
"Oh don't be such a baby."
"What? It's like you being told you shouldn't dance anymore; it's a big deal."
"You do realise that you can do music in your spare time, right?" Bolt pointed out. Failing to find another sarcastic retort, Bass returned his head to the table.
"A job could only be a temporary thing," Chora continued. "You still could get money out of music, just not right now."
"Well, what do you suggest?" Bass demanded.
"I dunno," Chora replied. "School teacher?"
You trust me that much?"
"Point taken. The jewellery store's got an opening, how about that?"
You trust me that much?"
"Well ponyfeathers, Bass. What do you want to do?"
10:43 AM - Sugarcube Corner
"All clear?" the Cakes chimed in unison.
"You still haven't told me the difference between cupcakes and muffins," Bass replied. "To be honest I really don't think there is one." The bakers shuddered.
"That doesn't matter," Mr. Cake sighed.
"Just... just follow the recipe and everything should be fine," Mrs. Cake said in an exasperated huff, and with that the two trotted out of the room. The DJ stood alone for some time before turning to the assortment of ingredients and cooking utensils set out on the counter before him.
Make a few batches of cakes and get a job, he thought. Shouldn't be too hard.
Before he could so much as lift a hoof, an energetic pink mass spontaneously materialised beside him.
"Hay! Whatcha doin'?" the bounding ball of energy squealed.
"Trying to get a job."
"Oh, yeah, that. I thought so cuz I hadn't seen you here before and it'd be really weird if you worked here already because I didn't know you even existed up till now. Which is weird because I was told you were coming 'round earlier today. Come to think of it, I haven't seen you in Ponyville before
OMIGOSH, are you new here?"
"I've lived here for a few years now."
"I don't believe you, I know everypony in town."
"That's a REALLY weird name."
"You think I don't know?"
"Where do you live?"
"See, this is how I've managed to avoid you all these years: I don't tell ponies where I live. Besides, what would you-" He paused as he looked over to the pink mare, beholding the cutie mark comprised of three balloons. "
"Yup! Pinkamina Diane Pie, party-thrower extraordinaire! But everypony calls me Pinkie Pie! My office is upstairs... well, I say office, but it's actually a bedroom, which is weird because-"
"Wait-wait-wait, you live here? In Sugarcube Corner?"
At this point, Basstrot removed his apron and dumped it over Pinkie's head, beginning to trot out.
"Wait!" Pinkie protested, not bothering to remove the apron on her head. "Where're you going?"
"Elsewhere," Bass barked as the double doors swung shut behind him.
11:25 AM - Sweet Apple Acres
"So, y'all clear on this? Buck the tree, apples fall down. Comprendo?" the orange mare instructed as she paced in front of the DJ.
dear Celestia, your accent
where did it even come from? Does that accent even exist anywhere else in Equestria?" The orange pony pouted.
"Y'all just buck the trees, ya hear? We'll see about yer job when yer done," she spat as she pulled down her Stetson and began marching off.
"You do realise that I'm the only one here? 'Y'all' is plural; more than one pony," Bass retorted, but by that time she was out of earshot.
Admitting defeat, the DJ drew his grammar lesson to a close and began dragging a basket down to a small cluster of apple trees, muttering something about country accents as he did so.
After placing the basket neatly under a particularly shady area of trees, he looked up. The apples that hung from the branches were bright red and plump, essentially begging to be harvested. Bass thought back to how he saw the farmer bucking the trees earlier.
Kick a tree, get a job. Shouldn't be too hard.
Accepting his self-proposed challenge, he turned to face away from the tree, whereupon he drew a breath, jumped up onto his front legs and kicked back as hard as possible, his rear hooves connecting harshly with the tree trunk.
"Horseapples!" he shrieked as he collapsed into a pathetic heap on the ground, pain coursing through each of his back legs. Clutching his aching limbs, Basstrot looked back to the tree. The baskets were still empty, and the apples clung to the branches mockingly.
Angry, the DJ shot back up onto all four hooves again, jumped up and kicked the bark again.
"Tartarus!" Same result. Evidently, the apples weren't coming down, and Bass was out of the job
not to mention the full use of his legs for some time.
Testing his weight on his legs, Basstrot concluded that he probably didn't have it in him to try again.
Instead, he struggled onto his hooves and began hobbling out. There to meet him at the entrance to the farm was a tall red stallion with an orange mane. He wore a yoke around his neck and an amused grin on his face.
"Do I suck that bad?" Bass asked.
"I thought so. Tell the other one I've gone, 'kay?"
That's quite the extensive vocabulary you've got there. On that note, the DJ staggered out of the farmyard and back into town, resuming his job hunt once more.
12:05 PM - The Carousel Boutique
"I'm sorry darling, but it simply has to go. Green hair is just the worst!" the purple-maned unicorn mare cried.
"My understanding of this job is that I'll be helping out in the back, implying that nobody will see me and that my mane colour doesn't matter." The unicorn sighed.
"Can you at least tell me why you insist on having that monstrosity sitting on your head all the time?"
"I'm a DJ. It's kind of necessary to stand out."
"A DJ? Oh, you must mean those egotistical morons who make that simply awful noise that passes for music nowadays," she said as she levitated various pieces of fabric around.
"Well, when you say it that way we sound like morons, but yeah, pretty much."
"Ugh, I hate your music."
"Oh, not yours specifically, just the genre of your music."
"Everyone has their own opinion. For example: you may not like the kind of music I listen to."
"Assuming it's anything like the music my friend listens to, no I do not. Anyway, what does this job entail?" The unicorn cast him a sideways glance.
"Well, you would often help me dig for gems
"Pass, sounds like labour."
"Other days you would help me model, which would require sewing, occasionally wearing dresses and perhaps fixing your mane."
By the time the unicorn finished, Bass had already marched his way through the mess of fabric and mannequins and out the door.
12:51 PM - Ponyville Library
"HOW IN THE NAME OF CELESTIA DID THIS HAPPEN?!" cried the purple unicorn as she stepped into the room.
Books lay strewn across the floor. Several shelves had been dislodged from the walls and sat at peculiar angles on top of other shelves. Paper and parchments were scattered haphazardly and bottles of ink were shattered, spreading small pools of ink everywhere.
Sitting beside a cracked window was Basstrot and lying face-down on the floor was a small green and purple dragon named Spike. Both seemed hopelessly dazed and confused.
"Who did this?" the unicorn cried. Bass and Spike pointed to each other.
"I ask again, how did this happen?" she shrilled. Bass sighed.
"You know what? We messed up so bad that we can't even remember."
The unicorn glared at him menacingly.
"I'll just show myself out," the DJ whimpered.
"Yeah, that's probably for the best."
1:30 PM - Fluttershy's cottage
"Damn, just how desperate am I?" Bass muttered aloud as he approached. He followed the gently winding path to the lone cottage on the fringes of the Everfree forest. He probably would have been more enthusiastic about this opportunity, had he not remembered that he had stolen eggs from this place before. Incidentally this reminded him that he needed to refill his egg stock; a problem which would probably be remedied shortly.
He would have knocked on the door if he hadn't heard the cottage's resident humming softly in the garden. He quietly made his way around the small building to the clearing separating it from the forest. In said clearing was an assortment of vegetable patches and flowerbeds along with several coops, hutches and other structures used for housing animals.
All in all, it was actually quite a nice place. Investigating further, Basstrot found what he was looking for.
Floating just above the ground, suspended in the air by soft, rhythmic beats of her wings, was a yellow-coated Pegasus with a flowing pink mane and tail. She made her way around a small fenced area, regularly dispensing feed as she went along.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Bass stepped forward from behind the building and into the light of the clearing.
"Uh, 'scuse me?" he muttered quietly. Evidently it wasn't quiet enough. While the chickens were okay, the Pegasus tensed up in fright, locking her wings at her sides and falling down onto her haunches in the process. When she turned to see the DJ, her eyes widened and she curled up into a quivering ball.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just wondering, do you need any help around here? Like, help that one can be employed for?" Bass enquired. The Pegasus shrunk into her ball yet further.
"Please? I'm really desperate. Even if you could just point me in the direction of a job I'd be thankful," he pressed on. This time a soft squeal was audible from the shaking pony. He noticed that she made frequent glances to his mane. Was the 'monstrosity' that boutique unicorn mentioned earlier really that bad?
I don't have any money and I need a job before-" Bass paused as he saw that the Pegasus seemed to be on the verge of tears.
"Sorry to have wasted your time," Basstrot muttered, turning tail and departing quietly.
2:09 PM - Basstrot's house
"BASSTROT, YOU PESTILENT SOD!" Boltstrike Thunderfire shrieked as he burst through the back door of the DJ's house. "STOP THAT BLOODY BANGING!"
"Ha! You said 'banging', and it's funny because it's obscene!" rang an answer from the front room. The unicorn angrily marched in, but soon found himself confronted with the sight of a mass of DJ equipment wired up to klaxon-like speakers, as well as Basstrot caught up in a tangled mess of cables.
"Care to explain?" Bolt questioned.
"My new early warning system. It's very clever actually," Bass explained as he manoeuvred himself in the mess of wires to point to the turntables. "There are five tones for emergencies, depending on the severity of the situation. Low risk has Rave music, moderate risk is Trance, substantial is Glitch, severe is Drum 'N' Bass, and critical is Dubstep." Bolt's expression more or less spluttered 'You can't be serious'.
"Why is this needed?" he asked.
"There are far too many incidents in this town. Ponyville's almost been trampled by stampedes, it's in the direct line of fire of the dragon migration and all the houses are made of wood and straw with a bakery sat smack-bang in the middle. It's a massive fire hazard. This is ignoring the many times rogue carts have almost fallen off a cliff and stuff like that. There is a distinct lack of warning in this town."
"Yeah, okay, and this system is supposed to be much better?"
"And you're in charge?"
"Right. First of all, Rainbow Dash does a good enough job already. Secondly, ponies aren't in tune with Dubstep as much as you are. In fact I don't even think you're as in tune with Dubstep as you should be. Thirdly, with you at the helm everypony would die. You'd fall asleep in the first ten minutes."
"That's a lie!" Bass protested. "It would be at least twenty minutes!"
"I wouldn't mind you picking apart my ideas as long as you can bring up new ones to replace them," the DJ shot back. "I need a job. I can't find one, so I'm creating one. Help me out."
"You're right, I should think of something
. nnnnope! All out. Sorry," Bolt smiled, turning tail and exiting the house, rather contented with his session of annoying the DJ.
"Could you at least help me out?" Bass called after him.
"Pestilent sod," Bass muttered to himself as he attempted to writhe out of the wires.
2:54 PM - A bench
Basstrot sighed as he watched the crowd of much happier ponies going about their business. He'd been sitting there for the best part of half an hour, only moving once to hide from Pinkie Pie as she passed by.
During the time he had spent sitting there, he reviewed his day so far. It had only been just over five hours since he spoke with the mayor, but already all of his prime options were gone. What's more is that his fall-back options weren't that great either.
Cafés won't take me, restaurants certainly won't, the music stores are all full. The parlours and everything else don't need me, the spa is stupid, I'm not allowed near the school and market stall owners despise my very existence. All that AND I can't think of anything for myself. He paused his train of thought and dropped his head into his hooves.
"Ugh, this is a disaster," he moaned aloud. Thankfully nopony heard him, as it was drowned out by a commotion happening nearby.
"Stop him!" some voice cried. Basstrot looked up.
Among the many turned heads, Bass made out the figure of a pony darting through the crowd rather quickly. As he drew closer the DJ made out a bundled sack gripped between his teeth. A lone pursuer came into view moments later.
"Stop him!" the voice cried again. As if on cue, many large ponies dove to tackle the presumed thief, but he turned out to be too quick and dodged them all. He eventually broke free of the crowd and began making a beeline which would bring him past Bass's bench.
"You there, stop that pony!"
Basstrot sighed and brought his head out of his hooves to watch the pony gallop closer. The DJ held still, making no discernible effort to prepare to stop the thief. The lack of movement made the thief raise a questioning eyebrow and the pursuer grunt in agitation.
The thief galloped closer and closer, until he was just passing the bench.
At this point, the DJ leapt onto his rear legs, drew back his right forehoof and, before the thief could even react, brought it around to connect squarely with the thief's jaw.
The startled pony juddered momentarily, prior to collapsing onto his side and losing consciousness. The chaser of the thief slowly drew up to Bass, his mouth agape.
"Sweet Celestia boy, I said stop him, not bash his face in," he panted. Bass raised an eyebrow.
"It worked didn't it?"
"True," the pony sighed, bending down to retrieve the bag himself. "That's quite the swing you've got there," he stated, motioning to a thin trickle of blood dribbling from the thief's nostril.
"Son, I represent Quills and Sofas, I'm sure you've been there."
"I'd like to hire you as our official security guard, that is, if you're free of course." Bass's ears perked up.
"Yup. Just drop by the store in a few minutes or so and we'll fix up your job."
"Wow," Bass replied with an elated smile spreading across his face. "I don't know what to say."
"Say nothing, I owe you for getting these bits back," he said, rattling the bag for emphasis. "Get this one to the hospital 'n' drop by the store, 'kay? Tell the security pony about the situation and he'll sort him out for us," he instructed, picking up the bag of coins and trotting off.
Bass grinned ear to ear as he hoisted the unconscious thief up and began dragging him towards the hospital. Maybe his luck was finally beginning to change.
3:15 PM - Quills and Sofas
"What do you mean I'm fired!?" Bass exclaimed. "I've been working here for five minutes!"
"I'm sorry boy, but frankly we've no need for a security guard. This here today was the first burglary in Ponyville for years. And, to be honest, I can't really afford to pay your salary."
"Not even on minimum wage?"
"Implying you were getting minimum wage to start with
"Is there nothing else I can do?"
"I'm sorry. I'd keep you if I could."
" Bass sighed and hung his head.
"While you're here, do you wanna buy a sofa?"
"NO I MOST CERTAINLY DO NOT WANT TO BUY A SOFA!"
3:35 PM - Town Hall
The mayor sat calmly behind her desk as she worked away at the stack of documents beside her. Many of them required merely a single signature before they were completed; others required some four or five paragraphs worth of writing. However long they took, it was a mind-numbing process.
Of course, however, he had to arrive to make everything more exciting.
"I'm done!" Basstrot cried as he blew through the doors. The mayor simply looked up. "Literally every job in Ponyville is wrong for me. Either that or they don't want me. In all seriousness I'd be much happier just to pack up and leave town right now."
"Bass," the mayor replied, "you can't be serious."
"I am! I'm done with this. Job hunting sucks. I'd be much better off getting evicted right now." The mayor sighed and set her documents aside.
"Would it make you happier to know there's a job available here?" she asked. The DJ raised an eyebrow.
"It's very simple," she said, stepping away from her desk and directing him over to a desk on the far side of the room, on top of which there was a mountainous stack of paper. "You'll be doing other jobs for me as well, but basically the job is to sort papers into appropriate stacks. Papers come in regularly, so you shouldn't be too bored. Once they're in the right stacks, send them over to me and I'll go about finishing them. Any questions?"
"Yeah, did this job always exist or was it just made up now?"
"That doesn't matter. You can start now if you want," she said as she turned back to her desk. Bass grinned as he observed his new workstation. What could possibly go wrong?
2 hours later
"I just don't know what went wrong," Basstrot admitted.
The interior of the Ponyville town hall was in a similar state to the library. Vital documents lay scattered across the floor in no discernible order. Several desks had been upturned and were either on their sides or their tops. Shattered ink bottles leaked black pools everywhere, and a pony whom the mayor recognised as one of the repossession agents sat clutching a broken leg.
"Me neither," commented the mayor. "Just
just what happened?"
"I don't know. If you want any consolation, go speak to that librarian," Bass replied, waving off a piece of paper stuck to his hoof.
"Bass-" the mayor started.
"Don't even say it," the DJ interjected, "I know what's coming next. In fact, you know what, just get the repos over right now. Except that guy in the corner of course. It'll save everypony a ton of trouble."
"Don't do this to yourself."
"No, seriously. I just can't get a job here. It'll be much better for everypony to have me evicted now and let me go and look for jobs somewhere else."
The mayor opened her mouth to intervene, but by the time she managed to think of the appropriate words, Bass had already angrily marched himself out of the door, leaving the mayor alone with an entire town hall's worth of mess to clean up.
6:02 PM - Basstrot's house
"What do you mean you're leaving?" Chora exclaimed as Basstrot went about his house, taking note of what things should be packed in what order.
"I figured it'd be best for everypony, as well as me, to get evicted sooner rather than later. That way I don't have to deal with as much stress, and I get out of everybody's manes quicker."
what about Bolt?"
"He's celebrating," Bass said flatly. "That reminds me, why are you here?"
I don't want you to go."
"Yeah, well, the rest of the town does; your opinion is overruled." Bass trotted past her and into the next room. "Do you know if Pinkie does farewell parties?"
"Bass-" Chora started, but was cut short by a sudden THWACK. The whole house juddered a little. Moments later, three knocks were heard from the door.
Bass raised an eyebrow and made his way through the house to the front door. He apprehensively opened it to see a blonde-maned, dishevelled-looking grey Pegasus mare standing in the doorway. Her eyes didn't quite match each other, and her muzzle was slightly bloody.
"I brought you a letter!" she squealed happily, producing said mail from her saddlebag, before tossing it on the ground and taking flight again.
"Does the postal service do runs this late?" Bass queried.
"A better question would be is she actually a mailmare?" Chora replied.
"Fair point." Bass picked up the letter which unfolded in his hooves. Instead of the anticipated essay, there was but one sentence and a signature.
Basstrot, meet me in the Town Hall as soon as you're able.
6:34 PM - Town Hall
"You wanted to see me?" Basstrot said quietly as he walked towards the mayor, who now sat in a clean office, purged of the damage Bass had caused earlier.
"Yes, actually," the mayor said, rummaging briefly through her stack of documents before producing two stacks of paper. They were both held together by staples and each stack bore legions of densely-worded paragraphs. She held up the first document. "This paper is for approving your eviction from your house." She held up the next one. "And this paper is for extending your benefits by one more year."
w-wait, w-what?" the DJ stammered.
"I'm willing to postpone your eviction and keep you on benefits for one more year," the mayor said matter-of-factly. Bass simply smiled.
"I didn't like seeing you in such a state. Plus I didn't want to think of the damage you'd cause another town. That, and the eviction papers are much longer than the benefit papers and I didn't want to muddle through them all."
I," Bass started, the smile steadily growing across his face. "I don't know what to say."
"Thank you would be a start," the mayor grinned, getting to work filling out her signatures in the appropriate boxes. "Come back tomorrow, we're open late as it is. Besides, I think you've got some music to write."
"That I do," Bass smirked, turning tail to sprint out of the office. "I'll be a celebrity before you know it!"
"One more year, Bass. One more year!"
"If you don't have a job by then, I'm afraid you will have to be cut off!"
"I hope that your music stuff gets you somewhere!"
"And please stop answering me with 'okay' all the time!"
With that, he was gone.
7:05 PM - Outside Basstrot's house
"And that's how I got my benefits back!" Bass proclaimed, wearing a triumphant grin. Chora smiled and gave a quiet congratulation. Bolt, however, was less pleased.
"Well, fantastic, now you've got to get your house tidy for once," the unicorn replied flatly.
"Say what now?"
"Wonderwhy arrives this evening, remember?"
An awkward silence ensued, shortly before Basstrot burst into yelling.
"Why didn't you remind me earlier?!"
"I thought you could remember, you dingus!"
"I told you to remind me! Tell me, are all unicorns as dim as you or is it just the one?"
"Oh, look who's talking," Bolt squared up, "I'm not going to take this from some third-class Earth pony!"
That was when the fight started.