It was rare for the Bearers to go shopping as a full group. Each mare had a set list of extant demands for her time, and the needs of any given calendar would inevitably conflict with all of the others. Typically, when the full set was gathered, it was a party, a crisis, or something which qualified as a typical everyday activity right up until the moment somepony realized that there was a full set of Bearers on the premises and therefore, a crisis was pretty much guaranteed.
And when it came to shopping as a unit... well, each mare had her own well-defined set of interests, and it could make them exceptionally easy to buy for: Rarity would hardly turn down a new bolt of fabric (although the lesser ones might be destined for a rather curtain sort of life), while Applejack was forever curious regarding new seeds. But when they were the ones doing the purchasing, they tended to split up. Twilight headed for the bookstore or worse, the thaumaturgy shop: the central difference was the minimum number of explosions required to get her out again. Rainbow could often be found trying to come up with an excuse for being in the toy aisle -- Pinkie's excuse came from not bothering to have one -- while Fluttershy was actually the one most likely to be in the clothing department: cowering in the center hollow of a circular rack counted. And nopony wanted to be in Rarity's vicinity when the negotiations began, lest they be wounded by fast-flying fractions.
But on this day (a mere two days after Homecoming and a little over a moon before Hearth's Warming: the busiest shopping season), they'd been summoned to Canterlot not for a mission, but a meet-and-greet: visiting dignitaries who had insisted on being introduced to the Bearers (generally in spite of everything the sisters had tried to prevent it), and so usually looked rather surprised when the first columns began to collapse. Even so, it hardly counted as an official group visit, especially since the palace staff secretly believed that no group Bearer visit was official until somepony had posted bail.
They'd been released early, mostly so they would be out of the way during cleanup. And on a pleasant late autumn day in Canterlot, where the weather schedule had arranged for crisp air and holiday colors were appearing in every store window...
Strictly speaking, they weren't shopping just yet. The heart of Canterlot's retail district had a magic of its own during the holiday season, and some of that manifested in store windows as displays animated by magic and clockwork alike. Tiny griffons proudly flew down to deliver miniature gifts to settler ponies who'd been cut off by a storm, one which gently swirled behind the glass and never quite deposited the tiny flakes onto any surface. Glass unicorns cantered near a fire, and crystal earth ponies provided their music. Just about every store in the Heart gave their best to the holiday windows, and ponies had been known to travel for dozens of gallops just to see the displays. A few of them even considered buying something.
Not so much for Twilight.
"I can't work it out..." It was almost a moan. "Not through the glass! If I could just get inside there, I know I could reverse-thaumgineer the spell!"
"Twi," Applejack reasonably began, "'zactly when are y'gonna need somethin' that makes pegasi twinkle with little lights along their wings? Especially when they're made out of fluff t' begin with?"
"You don't know I'm not going to need it," Twilight countered. "Besides, how hard could it be to get inside the display?"
Rarity quietly sighed, and soft blue adjusted the free end of her scarf. "With all the security spells which every store places in order to keep their competitors from stealing display ideas? Rather. One might as well take a gallop at the Mint than attempt to raid Haydock's holiday finery, Twilight. And at least with the Mint, the Princess might be forgiving. Simply enjoy the art."
"I'd rather enjoy some presents," Rainbow huffed. (She had very little patience for the displays, especially since none of the fluff pegasi were doing stunts.) "Can we just move to the next window?"
"...please," Fluttershy agreed. "...there's ponies behind us... the line sort of wants to shift now..." Because it was the store windows in the Heart, and so there was always a velvet-roped line.
Twilight sighed. "Fine," she muttered. "But there's more ahead. Maybe when some of them move."
"I wonder what that group is thinking about buying?" Pinkie curiously asked. "And if we'll get it!" -- then noticed the rest of the group glancing at her. She shrugged. "The Cakes and I come every year. For Haydocks, the next window is always whatever they think the hottest gift of the year is going to be! Their feature presentation! And with so many ponies looking..."
"You are right," Rarity noted. "I practice the same habit, when I can find the time. That would be their central promotion window. Now what has everypony's attention?"
It took a few minutes to find out. Some ponies left that herd, with a surprising number heading into the store itself. Others quickly crowded in. And after a while --
"-- what are those?" Pinkie breathed. "They're so pretty!"
Twilight carefully looked over the display, then exactingly pronounced the one thing she was certain about.
"They're big."
They were. The boxes behind the window came in many sizes: the smallest was roughly Apple Bloom's height and length, although considerably narrower. Some of the largest ones could have successfully concealed Luna from sight, at least after mane and tail had been brought under control and something had been done about the occasional miniature supernovas. But every package was colorful, with each painted to a given theme. One displayed images of candy. Another, which currently had Rainbow's full attention, was covered in an artist's imaginings of Daring Do's adventures. A third seemed to shimmer with a near-waterfall of silver needles. And every last one had ponies staring.
"They are," the brown middle-aged earth pony closest to the window said, "'gift clocks.'" And in the shock of recognition, they completely missed the low tones of concern.
Pinkie was the first to smile. "Mr. Rich!" she beamed at him, happily coming closer. "It's nice to see you!"
Applejack was a little more dubious. "Why are you in Canterlot? You're usually stuck in Barnyard Bargains for the whole season. Somethin' goin' on?"
"I had to drop in on the capital's franchise," he sighed. "Just straightening out a few invoices. And of course, as long as I'm here..." A small nod towards the window.
"Ah get it," Applejack decided. "Checkin' out the competition."
"In a manner of speaking, yes," the tired-seeming stallion admitted. "I was curious to see how these were doing in the first stages of their race." He glanced at the nearest door, watched more ponies going inside. "They're breaking well out of the gate."
"So if we may inquire," Rarity politely interjected, "what exactly would a 'gift clock' be?"
"Do you see those numbered panels?" Mr. Rich's right forehoof came up, gestured. "Every box has twenty-eight of them. One for every day of the full moon leading up to Hearth's Warming Eve. And there's an item behind every panel --"
Twilight was the first to work it out. "-- so you get a gift every day before the holiday!"
He nodded. They all missed the weariness of the motion.
And now Rainbow's eyes were starting to gleam. "Look at all the themes! I think that's a Wonderbolts one back there! You get twenty-eight Wonderbolts gifts?"
"In theory," Mr. Rich cautiously said. "I attended the trade show where these were announced, several moons ago, and that was certainly how the creators were trying to sell them." His head briefly turned, and his gaze shifted across his own flank before he looked at the mares again. "They certainly succeeded in finding buyers. Just about every store in the Heart is trying to sell them. Next year might find a few making their own." A little more quietly, "If the concept lasts for more than one year..."
"...I see ponies coming out with them," Fluttershy carefully noted. "Lots of them. That one's hiring a cart just to carry it all..."
"They're proving rather popular," the stallion admitted. "Because ponies aren't just buying them as presents for others. They're buying gift clocks for themselves. I've been here for about a hour, and so many are emerging with themes that match their own marks. They think they've found a way to get themselves what nopony else would, twenty-eight times over. They believe..."
He stopped. Looked at the door again, and then looked away.
"So you're comparison pricing?" Rarity asked. "Seeing what's being charged in the capital, then adjusting the endcaps in Barnyard Bargains accordingly?"
The earth pony slowly shook his head.
"We're not carrying them."
And then he had six mares staring at him.
"Why?" Pinkie's tones were rapidly rising towards desperation. "They're so pretty! And it's a present every day for a whole moon, you get twenty-eight extra presents in one box! I know the prices look really really high, but when you think about getting twenty-eight different extra things...!"
"I went to the trade show because a business always needs to move forward. New products are part of how we advance," Mr. Rich carefully told them. "So I saw them long before the public did. I listened to the sales pitch. I realized that some ponies would want to give so many extra presents, while others would long to receive them. Some desiring to buy for themselves, or simply make the wait for Hearth's Warming a little easier. And..."
They all missed it, with so much of their attention returned to the colorful boxes. The moment when he looked at his mark again.
"...something told me to wait," he quietly finished. "So I did. It was a pleasure to see you all here, but I need to head back to the train. Enjoy your shopping. And -- please be careful. I'm not sure these are right..."
He slowly trotted away, with frequent worried glances back at the group. For the most part, they didn't notice.
"Can we go inside?" Twilight breathed. "I want to go inside..."
"For the display windows?" Rarity automatically checked. At least, her voice did. All four legs were already moving towards the door.
"No," the little unicorn declared. "For this window."
Eleven visible eyes (plus one hidden by manefall) gleamed in unison. And then six mares went inside.
Anypony else leaving with that many huge boxes would have needed to hire a cart. The Bearers had a librarian.
They made the exchange early, which had been a small part of the creators' intent: a gift-giving day which would be held a full moon before the larger one. The creators believed themselves to understand something about ponies, which mostly meant 'They'll love big numbers.' And when it came to extra gifts, both giving and receiving, twenty-eight would feel like a very large number indeed.
The mares smiled. They laughed. They thanked each other. They made plans.
"Thank you!" Twilight beamed. "Fluttershy, I didn't expect this one! I didn't even see it!"
The caretaker smiled. "...I know you're doing the Nations Of The World series in the library. And maybe it's just a toy, but... when you look at the box art, there's models for a whole kraal in there. So when you have the Pundamilia Makazi display in two moons, you can use this as the centerpiece. Let everypony see what a zebra settlement is like."
"It's perfect," the librarian decided. "Thank you."
Pinkie was nosing her box again. Literally. "I wonder what's in here? 'Treats Of The World!' I can't smell anything..."
"Read the contents list?" Rarity suggested.
"It doesn't have one. I already checked all the sides."
"None of 'em do," Applejack noted as she circled the fifth box. "Guess everything's s'pposed t' be a surprise."
"Except for this one, and the contents are the surprise!" Rainbow crowed. "I can't wait! 'This box contains a never-before-seen Daring Do story'! It's gonna be chapbooks! A chapter a day! Do you know how hard it is, not opening the whole thing right now? But I'll wait! It'll be like having a serial in the cinema, with a new reel every sunrise! Oh, when Sun gets raised tomorrow...!"
"Bet y'open them all before the last day," Applejack knowingly wagered.
Instantly, "You are on! -- we'll work out what you're about to lose in a minute, but you are on!"
"Loan it to me when you're done?" Twilight asked. "I didn't see anything in the catalogs about a new release. This came out of nowhere. I don't even know how they got the author to agree to an exclusive like this, and when it comes to the licensing..."
Magenta eyes wickedly gleamed. "Maaaaybe..."
"I suspect we are all eager," Rarity announced. "But let us agree to follow Rainbow's example. For each box, one panel per day. And at the end, we will all tell each other exactly how we did."
They agreed. More than that, they swore. And then the group split up, with no crisis having been created through their gathering.
That part would take twenty-nine days.
Twilight was walking around her box again. (It took up more of the library's floor space than she did.) "Somepony should really write the manufacturer."
"Uh-huh," said the rather weary and in his eyes, completely inevitable 'somepony'.
"I mean, look at this. The #1 panel is nowhere close to the #2! And of course the #1 should have been on the upper left, it's not... The #28 is all the way over here! And they're all different sizes!"
"There's different things behind them," Spike reminded her. "But they've all got to be pretty big. The smallest panel is still larger than your hoof."
"That's for opening, I think," Twilight decided, still on the prowl. "See the little dashes along the lines? They're perforated, like stamps. So you press on it, and then the box is wide enough for the panel to swing in. But you're right: that would make them pretty big pieces. There's nothing on the box about the scale for the model. We may need to use one of the larger tables."
"We'll bring one up from the basement later," Spike agreed. "Ready to do this?"
She smiled, stopped in front of that severely-dislocated #1: her little brother joined her. "Ready." Twilight reared back a little, brought up a hoof, pressed --
Spike's next question came across as a reasonable one.
"Where is it?"
She peered more closely into the dark hollow. "I'm not sure. Let me probe a little." Her horn ignited, and glow began to poke around the hole. "It's all cardboard in here. Maybe some of it ripped and dropped a few pieces into the box -- oh, wait! I've got something! Okay, Day One is --"
They both looked at it.
"What is it?" Spike reasonably asked.
"I think," Twilight tried, squinting at something smaller than a nostril, "it's a mask."
"A mask," her sibling repeated. "It looks like it's made of grass."
"So it's a grass mask." She frowned. "Maybe some zebras wear those? I'll have to ask Zecora." And shrugged. "I thought they'd do something bigger for Day One. But there's still a whole model kraal in here. They're just starting slow. Why don't you open your first panel? Gems Of The World, Spike!" It had been expensive, but it was a big world and she presumed there were some interesting gems in it. "Go see what you've got!"
He did.
Naturally, Rainbow had two gift clocks. There had been a Wonderbolts theme available, and that meant she'd been sensible enough to pick it up for herself. Oh, and she'd gotten something for Tank, too. His was built around high-energy snacks for ponies on the go. She was sure he was capable of appreciating the thought, not to mention generously passing along anything he couldn't personally use.
"Here we go!" she proudly announced to the terrarium which was mounted in place of the headboard in her cloud bedroom. "Now don't worry: after I go through this myself, I'm going to read it out loud for you. So we'll both enjoy it, only I'm going to enjoy it twice. But you get to hear all the voices. I've been working on my Daring Do voice. 'Oh no, not again!' Pretty good, right?"
The tortoise blinked. Rainbow took it as high praise.
"One chapter a day!" And, just a little more carefully, "Because I really don't feel like personally managing the Acres' water table for two moons." Which was really more of a water bed, because water sort of slept in, and Applejack refused to let any pony responsible for it to do the same. "So you're my witness. Just one panel today."
Twenty-eight little chapbooks. She wondered if there would be twenty-seven cliffhangers or, as she tended to regard them, dive plummets.
"This," Rainbow announced to the world, "is cool." And opened the panel.
After a while, she had the item extracted. Looked it over with a care that was all out of proportion to its size. Her snout was shoved into the hollow to nose around for anything she might have missed, which turned out to be a mistake because a snout which had to be shoved in wasn't necessarily going to be all that easy to get out again.
She read it. Once was all that was required. And then, because she'd promised, she read it again, for Tank, while doing a voice. The fact that said voice seemed to be evaporating the walls just meant it was a really good one.
"'The.'"
To Be Continued.
Three earth pony siblings were quietly regarding the piles of objects resting on their kitchen table.
"It's funny, when y'think 'bout it," Applejack quietly proposed.
Mac said nothing. Apple Bloom, who rarely had the pleasure of being in the presence of something which wasn't her fault, had decided to try out some slow, exasperated head shakes and so discovered she liked it.
"They know me pretty well by now, y'know? They know us. That when it's winter, when the Acres are put t' bed... we like t' spend some time t'gether, just the kids. Granny's got her loom, when it's winter. But us... we do puzzles. Big ones. Thousands of pieces, all three kids workin' round the same table. Sometimes Ah spot where the next bit goes, sometimes it's you, Apple Bloom. You're gettin' kind of good. And Mac, you've always had the eye for color: AB's better with shapes. But all three of us, workin' t'gether... thousands of pieces can't stand up against us. We solve it every time. Cover it with a little glue, frame it, hang it up in the basement. Every year. So they got me that gift clock. Twenty-eight thousand pieces. Thought we'd have to clear the parlor t' get enough room for workin' on that one. And sure enough, every day for the first five days, there's been a thousand pieces in every little box."
Her siblings slowly nodded.
"Can't say we ain't getting what was advertised."
"Eyup," Mac agreed.
"So," the older sister tried, "an' Ah'm asking both of you -- when y'look at all of the first five piles like this... d'you think any of 'em are part of the same puzzle?"
Eventually, "Nope."
They all kept looking.
"So -- 'bout how many puzzles we got here?" Applejack asked.
Apple Bloom took a breath.
"Way Ah see it," the youngest proposed, "maximum would be five thousand..."
"So how's the story going, Rainbow?" was the first thing Pinkie unleashed under open sky, aimed up at the pegasus who had been twisting her way through most of it. "I know you're only on the tenth chapter because there's no way you're going to let yourself lose that bet, but Twilight's not the only one who's curious! You know me! If I'm not baking, I'm reading! Or I might be partying. Or planning a party. Or welcoming somepony. Or singing. Plus it'll be winter soon and that's when ice skating starts! But right now, you're the only pony I know with that book, so if you could just give me a hint of what Daring is doing --"
"'Or'."
"...sorry?"
"That's the tenth panel. 'Or'."
The baker frowned. "Ms. Yearling's getting a little weird with her chapter titles. What was the opening quote?"
"Pinkie, that's the whole thing. There's one piece of paper behind each panel, and they all have one word! So this one said 'Or'. Every day, I get one word!"
Worried now. "Your wings are going kind of fast..."
"One word, Pinkie! I know Ms. Yearling likes to build anticipation, but this is ridiculous! How is anypony supposed to get anywhere with one word a day? You know how she writes! There isn't a gift clock big enough to hold an entire book that way --"
"-- and those clouds are getting kind of dark --"
"-- and if there was, the Princesses won't live long enough to read it! It's a joke!"
"Maybe..." and now the pink face had the expression of a pony who was trying to think faster than lightning "...it's just teasing? Like a movie trailer which just shows a few images? She's giving you clues about what the book is about, and then the whole book is behind the last panel?"
Rainbow blinked.
"Like the teaser excerpt in the last publisher's catalog?"
"Yeah! It would make more sense than chapbooks, right? Because then there would be a second bound publication --"
"-- oh, that's fine," Rainbow dismissively declared, absently waving a foreleg through chill air. "I like having a complete hardcover set anyway. A puzzle, huh?" Thoughtfully, "So that's why the words feel like they're out of order... Okay, I'll wait." Smiling now. "Celestia's heated hooves, I was almost ready to hit the Acres and find out if Applejack had rigged the whole clock. So how's your Treats one going?"
"It's..." A surprisingly long hesitation. "...fine."
It had been long enough to register. "You're sure?"
Hastily, "Yeah! Everypony's getting something out of it! Or everyone. It's -- I'll tell you when it's over. Oh, that reminds me. How's the Wonderbolts one?"
"It's a lot more detailed," Rainbow admitted. "The back of every panel is printed with a description of the item, so you always know what you just got. Today's was a ticket stub from their very first show!"
"Really? Because I remember what you told me about the collector's market and even with how much your gift clock cost, that sounds like it would just be too expensive..."
"Well, it's a stub," Rainbow reminded her. "Those are cheaper."
"Okay."
"And when all you got was about the width of two fur strands..."
"It's -- really cheap?"
"Yeah." Rainbow frowned. "Same thing when you cut up a First Revision uniform into tiny squares. It would sort of spread out the --"
Silence.
"...Rainbow?"
"Okay," the pegasus far-too-slowly said, with the word nicely framed by the first rumble from the jet-black clouds. "There's two options here. One is that somepony destroyed a bunch of original Wonderbolts collectibles by cutting them up into really tiny pieces."
But Pinkie was already running.
"The other option is that they went into a costume shop, maybe even just a fabric one, found something of about the right color and weight, and then --"
In a way, it was good that Rainbow didn't lose a lot of Day Eleven to reading. Her community service-mandated repair of the lightning-damaged street took hours.
"But at least it's the first zebra," Spike helplessly tried. "It took seventeen days, but we finally got a zebra. That's good, right?"
Twilight was still looking at it.
"When you think about it, Spike," she pondered, "that's an interesting philosophical question."
"It is?"
"Well, a toy made to look like a zebra really isn't a zebra, is it? Neither is a model. But ponies still describe them that way."
He nodded.
"So if a toy can be called a zebra," Twilight considered, "and a model gets the same designation... then would you naturally need to honor a thin, half-painted cardboard cutout that way? Philosophically, is this a zebra?"
Her little brother thought it over.
"I think this is why Big Mac is the only pony who ever checks anything out from the Philosophy section," he finally decided -- then noticed what his sister was doing. "Stop it, Twilight."
"Stop what?"
"Stop trying to put the mask on. It won't fit."
"We have eight masks. One of them has to fit."
"They're three-dimensional. Sort of. The cutout is barely two --"
"-- I'm going to try the yellow one. Why don't you go check your daily gem?"
"Coal still isn't a gem!"
Pinkie carefully nosed out the contents for Day Twenty-Five, which wasn't easy to do while she was holding her breath. Once it was on the attic floor, she backed up a few paces, misjudged how far the invisible odor cloud had spread, and so made the mistake of inhaling.
"Do you think ponies wonder about how big the world is?" she thoughtfully asked the little alligator, at least once the gagging had stopped. "And how many kinds of people live in it? It's not just ponies, Gummy. There's minotaurs and griffons and zebras and dragons and kudu and donkeys and yaks, just for starters. Some of them live with us, even if it's only a few here and there. Some of them are really far away. And when you think about all of those people, the ones we've never even met or maybe even heard of, you kind of try to picture what they might look like. How they live."
At which point even Pinkie needed to take another breath, and so gagged again.
"And what they eat. Because they aren't all going to be herbivores, and when you take what they think of as treats, put it in a smellproof box, and maybe even leave it in a warehouse for a few moons before shipping it to Canterlot..."
She sighed.
"It's all yours," she declared. "Again."
The alligator hadn't understood most of it and on some level, Pinkie realized that. However, she felt it was more than compensated for by the fact that he'd eaten pretty much all of it. In that sense, the gift clock was doing rather well.
Gummy burped. The red cloud dissolved part of the carpet.
Admittedly, there were some -- minor side effects...
"Last day," Rainbow huffed. "Last day..."
She glanced at the terrarium. She'd done that several times during the course of a largely-sleepless night, and had found the same result on every attempt: one snoozing tortoise. Even with the heating system she'd set up, Tank had been sleeping a lot lately, and it could be said that each rest was taking place exactly on schedule. She fed him the daily energy treat from his gift clock, and he fell asleep.
But she'd had too much anticipation to sleep. She'd barely eaten. She'd mostly been living on Pinkie's theory. It felt as if it had to be right. The last panel on the box was the largest one. There was definitely room for a full book in there. (She'd thought about picking the whole gift clock up and shaking it, but pegasus. Plus she hadn't wanted to risk damaging what would have clearly been a first edition.) So she'd gone to her table, rearranged the scraps of paper yet again. Over and over, throughout the night. She was sure there was a clue there as to what she was about to finally read. The components were in front of her, and she just needed to mix them properly. She'd been trying to do that for nearly a full moon. But even with twenty-seven separate ingredients available, all she'd produced was word salad.
The other gift clock could wait. This was vindication. She'd won the bet. She was going to watch Applejack leading the Pegasus Pride March on the seventh day of spring, fake wings and all, singing the Cloudsdale City Anthem at the top of her earth pony lungs. And more than that: Rainbow was going to get the book. It was her book. She'd earned it.
The last day. The largest panel. The payoff. And, incidentally, probably the thing which would make her eyelids stop twitching.
She opened it carefully. (She had, mostly without realizing it, picked up her own lessons from Twilight, and high among those was the concept that first editions were sacred.) Looked inside.
Slowly, she removed the contents. Laid them out on the table. Looked them over, and then found herself doing so again. And again. It didn't really matter, because nothing she did would made them change.
There were two tiny stiff covers, each detached from the other. A thin strip of something flexible, just wide enough to accommodate twenty-seven scraps of paper. And a little vial of glue.
Rainbow closed her eyes (and so failed to see the moment when her entire house turned jet-black), took a breath, and put her hoof down.
Technically, Tank woke up first.
It was unusual for a Canterlot store in the Heart to be open on Hearth's Warming Eve. The sales had been concluded, the employees had gone home, and everypony who still needed a gift was perfectly welcome to scavenge the all-night pharmacy. However, police-relayed reports of several thousand angry, cart-hauling ponies had a way of getting ownership attention, and so Haydocks had summoned enough staff to manage what was suddenly the most crucial thing required to keep those elaborate windows from being shattered. And because profits were important and they didn't really understand what was happening yet, they sent their standard instructions to those ponies, to be obeyed at all costs.
Six mares (accompanied by one dragon) had waited in line for quite some time. It had been long enough for the stallion behind the counter to practice his latest speech. It was something he'd said before, of course: this was simply the variation which he'd found to be effective for the gift clocks. And he felt that he was rather good at his job.
The most recent group of dejected customers limped away from the counter. The mares approached. He noted the dragon's presence with the flex of a well-waxed eyebrow, then dismissed it. Canterlot, after all. And presumably a customer, which meant he would meet the same fate as all the rest.
"Next," he said. "One at a time --"
"-- we're a group," said the rather small purple unicorn mare. "We bought these together. We're bringing them back together."
He shrugged. "As you like. What is your complaint?"
Pinkish glow deposited the first item on the counter. He looked it over.
"I've been consulting books," the purple mare stated. "I realize that there are certain limitations to scale models, especially for something like a kraal. Things which can't be accurately represented. For example, even the smallest kraals would still have a population of five thousand or so. That's a lot to ask of a toy. But somehow, I still feel that a fair representation would require more than two huts. Which, incidentally, are occupied by one zebra. If you can call a half-painted cardboard cutout a zebra. I'm still not sure. Oh, and what's with having fourteen grass masks? Because I know a zebra, and I quote: 'Your holiday is meant to be jolly, so don't ask me to endorse this folly.' She doesn't know what they're for!"
He ignored all of it in favor of looking at the rather beautiful (if currently out of fashion) yellow pegasus.
"...I just sort of came along," that one half-whispered. "I'm not really upset. I mean, I guess I was expecting a gift clock for birds of the world to be... little regional guidebooks? But records of birdsong are okay. Even if they're barely larger than the center needle. And play in about half a second each. Plus the one you have for a bittern is actually somepony's leaky faucet. Which is actually a really easy mistake to make..."
She backed away. The white unicorn stepped forward.
"In one perspective," that one declared. "I could also argue for having very little in the way of complaint. Over the course of twenty-eight days, a single piece at a time, I assembled what I ultimately discovered is quite possibly the best item contained within the clocks. It is perfectly balanced and fits nicely into a saddlebag. The pieces are easy to understand, simple to clean, and effective in use. It is, in fact, the single finest portable cart wheel repair kit I have ever seen."
"I'm glad you're happy with your gift," the stallion said.
"If I repaired carts for a living, I would be thrilled!" the mare admitted. "Sadly, as you can see upon the container which my friend is now levitating into your line of sight, the images seem to be promising an equally portable emergency dress repair triage station. So if you could perhaps explain the confusion between box and contents?"
He could have responded. Instead, he looked at the dragon. It folded its arms.
"Anthracite," it said, and seemed to feel that was enough.
"I'm just here to support my friends," the pink earth pony said. "My alligator is mostly happy. I'm not, because it would have been nice to eat something. One thing. Oh, and then there's what happens after he eats. It's... it's blue. It's been blue for five days. I think I might need some help with that."
"Ah got two pieces t' match," declared the one with the hat which no Heart shop ever would have sold. "Under one of the other hooves, if you've got somethin' close to an infinity of puzzle pieces around, Ah'm guessin' the odds that two of 'em would jam t'gether eventually get up t' one in one."
And finally, the cyan pegasus silently dropped a miniature lightning-singed book on the counter.
"Explain," that one softly said. "This was your bestseller, right? I saw ponies in front of us in the line with this box. More behind us. You've explained it a few times by now. So now you're going to tell me. We can deal with the Wonderbolts one right after. But for now? Just. EXPLAIN."
He looked them over one by one, and did so while making eye contact with none.
"The gifts in each clock are meant to be a surprise," he smoothly stated. "Therefore, for the majority, there is no complaint to be made regarding the contents not matching what was listed, for there is no listing. As Haydocks did not manufacture the gift clocks, we bear no responsibility for the quality of their contents. And when it comes to what was within our bestseller... please lightly tear the uppermost right corner, then read the words printed within."
The pegasus silently went up. The stallion's corona, with much-practiced ease, delivered the huge magnifying glass and after a moment, he heard the usual tiny gasp.
"The box promised a new Daring Do story," he said. "Length was not mentioned. Nor was author --"
"-- fanfiction," the pegasus whispered. "You had my friends pay for fanfiction? Bad fanfiction? Twenty-seven random words which are supposed to be a Daring Do story because one of them is 'do'?"
"I was looking at it on the way in," the suddenly-furious purple unicorn declared. "At best, it's an auxiliary verb! This was all about maximizing profit, wasn't it? The cheapest possible gifts in most of them, no quality control -- we want our money back, we want everypony's money back! And if we don't get it --"
"-- and furthermore," the stallion who'd instantly seen the true genius of the gift clocks said, "there is the matter of receipts."
"We have ours!" the pink one stated. "All of them!"
"Yes," he said. "And even if some of the contents had not been consumed, even if everything was intact, because one cannot return an item which has missing or altered components, not to mention that every panel door had been pressed and the items are not in saleable condition... a simple fact remains. The gift clocks require twenty-eight days to open. Haydocks has a twenty-day return policy." He smiled. "Please enjoy your holiday."
The mares and dragon all looked at each other: the same look he'd seen on every other face, with some variation for scales. He waited for them to shuffle away.
But that was when two horns ignited, with both coronas showing spikes. The spines of the earth ponies went steel-straight, while the dragon's nostrils flared in a rather odd way. A coral mane suddenly flipped backwards, and a pair of blue-green eyes seemed to be staring at him: something which made him draw back. And the cyan pegasus touched down.
"Our money back," she softly said. "Now."
There was something about that stare. Something which was making him feel -- uncertain.
But he was the head of his department, earning his holiday overtime. And one did not become master of the Returns counter through providing refunds.
He automatically tallied the number of security personnel in the store (while failing to realize how many were on holiday). He looked at a mere six mares and dragon (and didn't consider all of the ponies behind them, the herd which had just been waiting for somepony to lead a charge and so was beginning to instinctively ready wings and horns and hooves). He rallied everything he had left in the face of that Stare, and managed one last word.
"Or?"
The cyan pegasus smiled.
Eventually, the police arrived. This was shortly followed by Guards, and that eventually led to palace staff commandeering the store's coffers in the name of the new emergency, which quickly became labeled in the national budget as Shopping District, Emergency Preservation For What's Left Of. Refunds were passed out to any who could prove the ownership of a gift clock. The items themselves quickly fell out of fashion, followed by dropping out of existence. And eventually, somepony remembered to go post bail.
It was, after all, an official Bearer visit.