[Satyr] Hellions, Aisle Two

>This was a terrible idea.
>You had suggested that Spitfire go out for a day with the girls and leave you with the kids.
>Normally this wouldn’t be a problem.
>But because of Ace being in school, they hadn’t seen much of each other for most of the week.
>And now, Hotshot was making up for lost time.
>“Can’t catch me!”
>The satyr with the brown coat laughs as he zips through the den, leaving a trail of feathers in his wake.
>Oh right, he was going through molt as well.
>Coming up behind him was his sister.
>Ace, her face flush with rage, follows in hot pursuit, thrusting her fists into the air the whole while.
>“Quit flying away you jerk!”
>Hotshot giggles in delight as he grabs onto one of the support beams overhead and flips himself so that he’s headed in the other direction, successfully shaking his tail in the process.
>With a scream somewhere between anger and frustration, Ace crashes into the fireplace and hops back to her hooves, intent on renewing the chase.
>Your head throbs as she screams incoherently and takes to the air.
>As she’s flying by you, however, you reach out and grab hold of her tail.
>The school-aged filly nearly pulls you up out of your easy chair as she struggles to fly after her tormenter, a testament to the power held in that still small frame.
>But you’re no pushover either.
>Flexing your muscles, you real her in until she’s scowling from her seat on your lap.
>After a moment’s pause, she attempts to take off again, only to get her head caught in the crook of your arm as you lock her into place.
>Thrashing wildly, the hotheaded girl glares back at you and pouts.
>“Poppa, let me go~o!”
>Her eyes catch the light just right, giving her an additional pleading tone in those wounded eyes.
>You consider it for a moment before shaking your head.
“No dice.”
>Another grunt of frustration, but the half-filly finally settles down, though she crosses her arms in indignation in the meantime.
>After several minutes of no pursuit, Hotshot sticks his head back into the room and cheeses at his sister.
>That sets off another round of thrashing, but you hold firm and point to your son with your free hand.
“You.  Here.  Now.”
>Hotshot gets far along enough in his teasing to stick out his tongue, but as your expression hardens he catches the drift.
>Holding his hands over his flank, he quickly hurries over and plops himself down on the wooden floor.
>As Ace settles down, you slowly release your grip on her as well until your arms rest down by your sides.
>Your daughter slithers out of your lap and sits beside her brother, two pairs of eyes turning their attention fully on you.
>There is a measure of shoulder nudging, but neither seems ready to incur your wrath.
“Well, good to see you two getting along again.”
>But how long is it going to last?
>You could really use a breather, especially considering the pounding headache you have from listening to them bicker all day long.
>Maybe you could find something for them to do quietly?
>It would have to be really interesting though.
>At once, it strikes you.
>You get to your feet and snap your fingers.
“All right, squirts, lets find you something to play with.”
>They’re on their hooves in a flash, Ace falling in step behind you while Hotshot bounces his way across the floor and up the stairs before getting bored and fluttering around your head.
>It takes a little maneuvering to get up into the attic, and even more to corral the two inquisitive satyrs once again after you find what you’re looking for, but eventually you have them seated in Ace’s room.
>They continue to prod one another, but you’re sure this new idea will quickly put a stop to all that.
>Blowing dust off the lid of the boxes you brought down, you open the first to reveal a 78’ record player.
>Sure enough, that gets their attention, and they’re quick to crowd around it.
>The innocent smile you’ve come to love dances across your daughter’s lips as she tugs on your sleeve.
>“Poppa, Poppa, what is it?”
“This is a record player.  It plays music.”
>Hotshot has already turned his attention to the other boxes as his sister toys with the machine.
>Joining your son, you open the box he’s working on with a flourish, reveal several dozen records inside.
>It’s been ages since you looked through them, but they all still seem to be in fine condition.
>A few familiar scenes leap to mind as you thumb through a few of the sleeves, time spent back on Earth with friends and family.
>Your heart aches slightly as you remember why you put them away in storage so many years ago.
>Even though you wanted them so badly, once you received them it only seemed to bring painful memories back to the surface.
>But now, you have someone else to share them with.
>Maybe they’ll appreciate the music as much as you did.
>The next forty minutes are spent explaining how to use the record player and care for the records so that they don’t get scratched.
>You make a point to be very specific about the latter part, stating that these are the only records of their kind in Equestria.
>The kids seem to take to it with relative ease though.
“All right, so if you guys have any questions just come get me.  I’ll be downstairs.”
>“Okay, thanks Poppa!”
>Hotshot gives a happy cheer as Ace begins to fiddle around with the knobs and levers again.
>Shaking your head, you move downstairs and plop into your recliner.
>A nice little nap is exactly what you need right now.
>Smacking your lips, you close your eyes and prepare to enjoy some peace and quiet.
>However, a short while later you are awoken by a sudden buzzing sound, like a trumpet being played through static.
>The sound repeats itself three more times in rapid succession before falling silent.
>It seems strangely familiar for some reason, but you can’t quite place it…
>And then the beat starts.
http://youtu.be/vfblUSCaAQk
>Oh no…
>You’d recognize that scream anywhere.
>How did that get in there?
>You scramble to climb out of your chair, but your usually comfy companion turns against you.
>After several seconds of thrashing, you end up falling onto your face on the floor, but quickly hop to your feet and rush the stairs.
>Already you can hear the chorus starting,
>“I came to get down, I came to get down, so get outcha seat and jump around!”
>And then the chant.
>“Jump, jump, jump!”
>And then the whole house begins to shake.
>Shrieks of delight come from Ace’s room as you round the corner and stick your head inside.
>Your children are thrashing in a two-man mosh pit, bouncing off one another and the walls in front of the record player.
>As they stomp across the floor, you can see the windows shudder and the boards beneath their hooves quiver with each concussive strike.
>With a wild smile, Ace turns to you and grins.
>“HEY POPPA!  WE REALLY LIKE YOUR MUSIC!”
>Hotshot is quick to crash into his sister, bringing a temporary end to the thrashing, at least until they get their giggles under control and untangle their limbs.
>Meanwhile, all you can do is bury your face in your hands.
>What have you unleashed?
>And will you ever have a moment’s peace again?