"Three ciders, a regular hayburger, one spicy deluxe, two doubles without cheese, two oat salads, and a bowl of fresh fruit," he repeats back, "Should be out in twenty minutes. If not, you can partake in the proud, Sweet Peaches tradition of walking back and yelling at the cooks. Actually, please don't. They yell back and then somepony's food gets burnt and everypony has a bad night."

He steps smartly away from the table and takes the order back to the kitchen. The new band has finished fine-tuning their instruments and struck up a "song of our own composition" which, truly, defies description. Discordant Harmony, they call it. And it lives up to the Discord part.

The ponies closest to the stage are regretting their decision.