The day was warm and bright when Vinyl and Octavia trotted their way toward the Royal Museum of Music in the middle of Canterlot. The sun shone luminously above the gleaming city terraces and parapets with their many colorful banners flying freely in the breeze. In the middle of a cobbled piazza, close to the Royal Palace, stood the imposing structure of the museum.
All around the great facade, dotted with windows framed in classical style, lay Corinthian pillars of solid granite that seemingly reached to the heights of the heavens above. Around the roof-top was a banister of white marble inlaid with gold and holding mighty ornaments of bronze figures. In the center of the roof, above the main entrance, was a clock that lay in its own stone encasement with carvings of the moon and sun on its left and right, respectively; above it, a single bell beneath a gold weather-vane in the shape of a dove, with two banners flying on either side of it. On the outskirts of the museum were tall, wrought-iron fences, that were supported by stone colonnades, lavishly adorned with carvings of mythical creatures.
It was an awe-inspiring and humbling sight for Vinyl who had never seen it before and gazed in wonderment at its magnificent splendor, but to Octavia, it was an old friend; one she had greeted many times before.
"What do you think?" Octavia said smirking.
Vinyl merely stood there, mouth slighty ajar. "It's huge!" she proclaimed at last.
Octavia chuckled to herself. "It is quite big."
"How long do you think they worked on this?" Vinyl asked as they walked across the court-yard to the entrance on the other-side.
"Oh, many many years, I suppose."
"Centuries?"
"Maybe." Octavia shrugged.
"Wow..."
They entered the open corridor that stretched around the outside of the building and walked past a latched wooden door. Inside, they were greeted by a large, vaulted foyer with a skylight above. On either of the hall were doors bearing signs saying: "Visitors Not Allowed", "Restricted Area", or "Employees Only". Near the far end on the left, there was a blue and white stripped canvas booth with the word: "Admissions" printed in big, bright-red letters. To the side of it was a winding maze of blocking rope, used presumably to form a line for visitors. The hall, however, was abandoned, with only the sound of the two companions' hooves clattering against the marble floor as they neared the entrance.
Behind the booth sat an elderly nag, her face drooping with many years, but her eyes shining with the exuberance of youth. "Hello!" she greeted them enthusiastically, "Welcome to the Royal Canterlot Museum of Music, how may I help you today?"
"Two tickets for the tour please." Octavia stated politely.
"Alrighty then," she said punching the slender keys on her rather antiquated cash-register. "Will that be all?"
"Yes, madam."
She pulled the wooden lever on the side of the great machine, causing a spiraling and whizzing sound to be heard, then the clang of a small bell. "That will be twenty-six bits – thirteen each."
"Here you are." Octavia handed her the respective denominations. With another twist of the lever and a ding, two tickets emerged from a slot underneath the booth; their pressed paper thick and and sharp, bearing the words "One Admission Only".
"The tour guide should be here any moment now. We're currently under-staffed here so the tours aren't always as speedy as we'd like them to be."
"You don't say?" Vinyl chimed in.
"I do say! Ever since the curator here quit, we've been having trouble keeping this place a-float."
"Why did he quit?" Octavia asked.
"He said something about how it was ethically wrong to charge people to listen to music, and how he said he was going to follow his boyhood dream and become a pirate." The old nag chuckled a bitter laugh to herself before resuming a serious expression. "He tried to steal music from his own museum, but accidentally caught a curtain on fire when he went to smoke, and was subsequently arrested for arson. He paid the bail and tried again but this time, he forgot the password to his own safe that stored his musical collection, which tripped an alarm. He would have escaped, but he was so frightened that he had to relieve himself, and when the police arrived, they arrested him for indecent exposure. Not one to be easily discouraged, he tried yet again by pole-vaulting onto the roof and sliding down one of the chimneys, but he miscalculated the width of the chute, and he got stuck, so the police had to fish him out. When they did, he was covered in soot and grime – a sight for sore eyes, he was. They arrested him a third time for chimney-sweeping without a permit, which of course made his third-strike. Last I heard he was doing hard-time at Foalsome Prison." Suddenly, with an unwarranted burst of enthusiasm, she exclaimed: "Any-hooves! It seems your tour guide has just arrived."
Vinyl and Octavia looked to see a azure pony with a cornflower-blue mane approaching them from across the room. She swaggered with a confident air of self-assurance, her pace quick and precise. "Morning Trixie!" the old nag greeted her.
"Morning Susan." she mumbled back indifferently, yawning.
The old nag turned to Vinyl and Octavia, "This is Trixie. She'll be your tour-guide today."
"Wait..." Octavia said pondering, "I know you! You're the magician!"
"We seem to be running into a lot of your old acquaintances today," Vinyl said nudging her.
"She's not one of my acquaintances." Octavia said.
"I'll have you know," Trixie interrupted, "performing magic is behind me. I decided to pursue my true passion: acting! I'm just taking a part-time job here to make ends-meat until my acting career takes off."
"How's that been coming along?" Vinyl asked.
"Uh..." the blue pony's cheeks turned a bright red, "Let's just say I won't be leaving anytime soon."
"Well!" the old nag proclaimed, "You three already seem to be on the right hoof with this. Why don't you go on inside?"
"Good idea." Octavia said looking up at the position of the sun, "We should go now so I can have time to prepare for the concert tonight."
"Okay then, you two have fun. And Trixie, mind yourself now, I know you can do it!" the old nag chastened stifling giggles.
"Yes ma'am." Trixie said forcing a smile, as she lead the two friends into the museum. When she was sure she was out of ear-shot of the old nag, the blue pony turned to them. "That crazy old bat thinks because I'm new I can't handle it. She has no idea how much of a favor I'm doing them by working here."
"Do you enjoy your job?" Vinyl asked.
The blue pony stopped in her tracks and turned her towards her, a smile of insincere satisfaction gleaming on her lips."Suuuure." she quipped facetiously, "I just love showing people around these ancient relics, being paid minimum wage, and having to be here at seven every morning."
"Uh...it's one." Octavia said pointing to her watch.
"Regardless!" Trixie said moving on. "They don't appreciate me here and certainly don't believe in my capabilities."
"That old-pony at the counter seems to believe in you." Vinyl said.
"Why wouldn't she? She's my mom." Trixie stated plainly.
"Oh!" said Vinyl and Octavia in unison as they nodded their heads in a new revelation.
"What about the old museum curator?" Octavia asked curiously.
"Oh, dad...yeah, he's nuts. This museum, I suppose, will be mine one day, but this is a temp job, nonetheless. Because I know that any day now a famous producer is going to walk through those doors and say 'Trixie, darling, I saw your audition and was absolutely thrilled! Come with me!' Then I shall be whisked away to some studio where I shall play the lead as a seductive damsel. That will my big break-through and then I'll get to see my name in lights!"
Vinyl cleared her throat. "I can definitely see you playing a dramatic part."
"Yes, well, I am quite the actress."
Over the next few hours, Trixie toured them through the enormous expanse of the museum. They traveled the length of the vast corridors of old instruments, priceless artifacts, and exhibits of personal possessions belonging to famous pony composers and librettists. They passed through the museum's collections of trombones and tubas, saxophones and flutes. They saw the famous teeth of Beau Rosin, and the diary of Sharp Clef – both well-known and highly respected musicians.
Vinyl, who earlier had contemplated staying in bed, was utterly enthralled with all the sights that passed by her. Octavia was too, to a large extent, because in her mind, it was like being a marvelous temple; one dedicated to her life's passion, and she looked on it with the same reverence and awe as the first time she had when she was a little filly on that second-grade field-trip those many years ago. Trixie, for her part, never lingered or meandered over any particular sight for too long. She kept the facts hard and straight in an attempt to keep their attention while she paraded them through the nearly endless labyrinth of displays.
After a couple hours of browsing and explanations, however, the group came to the conclusion of their tour and the grand finale. It was the show-piece of the museum, its most treasured possession: a Straddlevarius Violin. It was one of only two Straddlevarius violins that existed in the entire world. This particular one had been the personal property of Johann Sebastian Buck, renowned composer and organist, who had received it as a gift from Antonio Straddlevari. The quality of these violins was unmatched by any other. Their beautiful texture and craftsmanship, as well as their superb sound, made them jewels that beset the crown of the museum's treasures.
Needless to say, the Straddlevarius was encased inside a secure stone room, a little distance apart from the museum's main corridors. Inside the small, mausoleum-like structure, was a marble pedestal on which the instrument lay, surrounded by nearly indestructible glass. As a whole, the instrument was plain and unadorned; so much so, that if you looked at any other violin, you probably couldn't tell the difference between the two in physical appearance. It was the sound though, and the sound alone, that set the instrument inside the glass apart from any other in the world.
Trixie sighed a bit of relief as she finished up her tour presentation and allowed the two friends to view the instrument. "Wow" Vinyl said, "Do you think they ever let anypony play that?"
"Certainly not!" Octavia rebuffed her. "Far too priceless a thing to be played."
"Actually," Trixie interrupted them, "I hate to contradict, but we do take it out annually to be played."
"Oh, I didn't know that." Octavia said less boldly.
"Instruments are made for playing, right?" Vinyl said.
"I guess so." Octavia said staring at it, "It would be quite the honor to the musician allowed to play it."
"We had a professional violinist," Trixie said, "Who we use to let do it. He was a good friend of our family. He passed on a year ago and we've been looking for a replacement player since."
"That sounds interesting," Octavia said, "However, I play the cello myself, and not the violin, so it wouldn't really be my forte."
"Forte." Vinyl snorted, chuckling to herself.
Octavia allowed herself to giggle, "Vinyl, give your puns a 'rest'".
"I would like to triad out." Vinyl retorted.
"No 'strings' attached?"
"Only a fugue."
Trixie rolled her eyes as the two friends cascaded into a back and forth of musical puns, laughing and chortling louder and louder as they exchanged more and more bad one-liners. Finally, she had heard enough. "Alright, well, if you don't need anything else, I'm out of here." By the time she left, the friends were literally rolling on the floor, tears streaming from their eyes.
"Ha ha!" Vinyl exclaimed, "I don't think I've ever laughed this hard."
"He, me either." Octavia said.
"Well..." Vinyl said getting up, "All this has left me starved. Let's go and chow down at the food court."
"Sounds like plan." Octavia agreed.
