Scootaloo & The Cabinet of Seers

by HMXTaylorLee

Working For The Weekend

After ensuring that her scooter was safely tucked away behind the green dumpster at the back of Olive's Garden, Scootaloo unstrapped her helmet and approached the "Employees Only!" door. She pressed against the door with her hoof, and was almost immediately blessed with a reprieve from the zesty autumn chill with a warm, inviting, and pleasantly scented air that she'd come to associate with the restaurant. Navigating the eggshell white hallway, she turned into to the employee locker room. She didn't have so much a locker like the waiters and chefs with actual uniforms, but she had a neat little cubby hole that held her apron for dishwashing duty. Scootaloo reached in to exchange her helmet for her apron, and noticed a bright yellow sticky note above the cubby.

Premiere Dishwasher

She chuckled, slipping the apron over her head, assuming the source of the note to be from her eccentric boss, Mr. Olive. Dressed for the part, Scootaloo sidled out of the locker room, passing by several servers chatting among themselves on their way to leave for the evening. Passing by the metal door to the kitchen, she could hear the voice of her employer within. Taking a left, she found her station, and greeted the worker standing before the industrial size sink.

"Hey, Ripple," Scootaloo piped up, breaking the relatively normal silence of the room. Her co-worker, a light blue earth pony turned around, and broke into a wide smile upon seeing his replacement.

"Heya, Scootaloo! How are you doing?"

"Can't complain," Scootaloo said cheerfully. "Busy night?"

Ripple laughed quietly as he threw the dishrag from his shift into the hamper by the sink. "Sundays always are," he said. "Families getting the last hurrah before the week starts."

Scootaloo nodded in agreement, sliding the stool she needed to reach the sink into its position.

"I want to apologize in advance for tonight," he continued. "Mr. Olive is in the kitchen tonight, and you know what that means."

"Extra cheese and sauce?"

"Yup!" Ripple exclaimed, tossing Scootaloo a fresh towel. "But I guess that's your problem now, huh?"

"I guess," Scootaloo replied, her hooves already soaked in the lukewarm water to continue the battle against the stack of dishes within.

"Only joking," he patted Scootaloo on the shoulder playfully. "Anyways, I'm going to get going. The outdoor cinema is going to be closing soon for winter, and the movie Twelve Donkeys just came out on Friday. Gonna go see it tonight with some friends, it's supposed to be really good."

"I hope you have fun. Let me know how it is," Scootaloo said absentmindedly, her attention focused on scrubbing an already troublesome layer of dried cheese on a large plate.

"Will do. Good night, Scootaloo!" Ripple said, his voice changing in volume once he passed the threshold into the hallway.

Scootaloo twisted her head to face the door. "Good night!" In that moment, she caught a fleeting glimpse of Ripple's cutie mark - a film reel. Then she had an idea. "Ripple!" she cried out quickly, hoping to catch her co-worker's attention before he was too far gone.

"Yeah?" His head popped in the doorway, wearing a slightly puzzled expression.

Scootaloo tossed the dishrag over the faucet, and hopped down from the stool. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you get your name?"

"Come again?" Ripple did a double-take, and he looked even more confused. "My parents gave it to me... isn't that how it works?"

"No, no," Scootaloo shook her head. "I mean like, how did they come up with that name?"

Ripple looked ponderously at the ceiling, scratching his chin. "I'm not sure," he admitted with a shrug. "Maybe they thought I'd be making waves?" he suggested as he splashed his hoof into the foggy sink water. "Come to think of it, I think it was a name kinda from my mother's side of the family."

"And what was her name?" Scootaloo asked.

"Ruffle."

Scootaloo's face screwed up in thought, contemplating what the names Ripple and Ruffle could imply for a talent or occupation. "Do you know why her parents named her that?"

"I didn't think to ask," Ripple laughed. "She'd probably think it 'wildly impertinent.'"

"What's her special talent?" Scootaloo inquired hastily.

"Rock climbing. Heck, climbing anything really. I've never seen anypony scale a cliff-face faster than her. Why um, why do you ask?"

The filly paused for a moment, thinking how best to word her answer. "It's kind of a school project. I was wondering why some ponies seem to be named after their talents or jobs or whatever."

"Huh..." Ripple stated blankly. "Kinda like you and your scootering? I guess I never really thought about it before."

Scootaloo glossed over her coworker's lack of pontificating, and was quick to disregard his assertion. "Using a scooter isn't my special talent," she insisted with more than a trace of defiance.

Her staunch denial wasn't lost on Ripple. "Oh well, you're pretty good at it anyways."

Scootaloo sighed exasperatedly. Even ponies who she barely knew her seemed to think she was destined to putter about on a foal's toy.

"I guess it doesn't really matter, does it?" Ripple continued. "I mean, isn't a name just a name? Perhaps it was just intuition or coincidence or something?"

"Maybe..."

With that, Ripple inched back towards the doorway. "Anything else? I don't mean to seem impatient, it's just that Twelve Donkeys starts in half an hour and I don't want to be late, you know?"

Scootaloo jolted out of her headspace. "Oh no, I didn't mean to keep you. Have a good night, Ripple."

"You too, Scootaloo. Again!" The stallion's noticeably hastened hoof falls faded as he trotted down the hallway, out of sight. Scootaloo was unsatisfied with the notion of what her special talent was supposed to be, or what she hoped it wasn't supposed to be. Why did she get the name 'Scootaloo?' She didn't know. As she dipped her hooves back into the sink, she remembered that hopefully, Twilight would answer her "other" burning question this time tomorrow. She felt a knot in her stomach, and tried to convince her swimming head to calm down and temper its expectations.

---

The last of the plates had been neatly stacked in the strainer, and Scootaloo tossed the dampened rag into the linen hamper. Her hooves laden with suds, she scratched her itchy muzzle with the crease in her foreleg. She heard the unmistakable sound of the dish cart approaching, the rubber wheels bouncing along the wooden floor. She stuck her head out over the counter where dirty dishes were typically placed, and saw a server approaching with the cart in tow.

"Don't worry, I'm just putting the cart away, kid. You finished the last of them?" the pony asked as he passed by.

Scootaloo nodded, though the server didn't see it. "Yup!"

He still didn't turn around. "Well then, I guess I'll see you around. Have a good evening."

"You too - hey, is Mr. Olive still around?" Scootaloo inquired. The server had opened the storage closet to put the cart away, and though his voice was muffled as a result, Scootaloo could still hear it.

"Last I saw, he was still in the kitchen."

"Thanks!" Scootaloo bounced down from the stool after pulling the plug in the sink, and made her way to the kitchen as quickly as she could. Mr. Olive had told her that he would schedule her for work during the week when she requested it, since she wasn't going to be in school anyways. She scarcely noticed that she was tracking minute amounts of suds while she walked, but she didn't really care. With a hefty shove, she pushed the metal kitchen door open with her shoulder.

Mr. Olive was still in the kitchen, scraping at the stovetop with a metal scraper, muttering under his breath.

"Mr. Olive?"

He looked up from his task, and Scootaloo could swear she saw sweat starting to form on his brow. "Scootaloo! I meant to speak with you sooner, but I was just cleaning up and lost track of time - I forget how sticky everything gets if you let it cool."

Scootaloo knew that tidbit only too well. "I can imagine. Did you want to speak to me about the schedule for next week?"

The metal scraper made a swooshing noise as Mr. Olive swung it through the air suddenly. "Exactly! The schedule is on the wall over there." The scraper was pointing at a sheet of paper pinned to the wall to Scootaloo's right. Scootaloo walked inside to examine it, the metal door swinging shut silently.

Monday - Lunch Shift
Tuesday - Lunch Shift
Wednesday - N/A
Thursday - Dinner Shift
Friday - Lunch Shift
Saturday - N/A
Sunday - N/A

"I think you'll appreciate the lunch shift - it's a bit slower than the dinner shift. Ponies don't much prefer pasta for lunch, it seems. Too filling, makes them sleepy for the rest of the day if I had to wager," Mr. Olive pondered aloud. "Does that work for you?"

Scootaloo bristled just a bit. She knew that she'd be getting Wednesday off, for the Running of the Leaves. But the weekend?

"Just two things," she said. "I agreed to work tomorrow - Monday - morning at Barnyard Bargains in exchange for having somepony cover my shift yesterday, so I won't be able to make it in on time."

"Okay," Mr. Olive nodded, a pen floating in a fluorescent yellow light towards the sheet to scribble over it. "Do you want to work in the evening?"

"Yeah, I should be good for that. And then..."

Monday - Lunch Dinner Shift

"Yes?"

"I'll be able to work the weekend too."

The pen clicked, and the tip vanished within. "I figured as much, if the last few weekends were anything to go by."

Scootaloo scratched her foreleg uncomfortably. "Yes, and well, I was thinking..."

"And as your boss, I was thinking that you deserved a weekend off," the unicorn interrupted.

Scootaloo was taken aback. "Yes, but, I want to work."

Mr. Olive looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. "You are the strangest filly I've ever met, Scootaloo. Nopony wants to work. This is the weekend after all of the leaves fall to the ground - surely you'd rather jump in leaf piles with your friends instead of slaving away in a stuffy restaurant?"

"That would be fun, I guess," Scootaloo conceded, "But I need-"

"You need to take a weekend off to spend time with your friends," her employer said firmly. "Since you can't really see them in school while you're suspended, right?"

"How do you know about that?" Scootaloo asked with a blush spreading across her face.

"Mr. Rich told me. Said you got suspended for breaking his daughter's muzzle."

Scootaloo looked down embarrassedly. "He... he told you that?"

"Yup. We're good friends - he actually gave me the start-up for the Garden."

"Oh..." Scootaloo pawed at the ground, not daring to look at him. "Sorry..." She felt his hoof flick the curl in her mane.

"Don't worry, Scootaloo! I'm not angry at you - after listening to her badmouth my ravioli, I was tempted to do the same thing!"

The pegasus looked up with a weak smile, but still feeling the ache of shame as a result of her lost temper.

"The point I'm making, Scootaloo, is that you need to blow off some steam. I'm only too happy to have you working for me as my premiere dishwasher, but you shouldn't be getting burned out on work before you're even out of school! That comes after," he added with a wink.

Scootaloo didn't relent. "But, sir, I -"

"I'll have you know that it isn't often an employer bidding his employees to not work is met with such resistance!" Mr. Olive cried dramatically. "Matter of fact, I will fire you if you don't have a good time with your friends this weekend!"

"Y-you can't do that!" Scootaloo protested.

"Can't I?" Mr. Olive said with an obvious coat of false menace. Seeing through it, Scootaloo merely blinked at him. "Okay, so I really can't. But my point still stands. You can be a member of the 'weekend working stiffs of Equestria association,' but it won't be at my hooves. Not for this weekend at least. Are we clear?"

Scootaloo opened her mouth to argue, but she faltered. Clearly, Mr. Olive had already made his decision. Besides, she could probably request a shift or two at Barnyard Bargains anyways. "Yes, sir."

"Good! Then, I'll see you tomorrow night?"

Scootaloo pushed against the door forcefully. "Yes, sir," she answered without so much as glancing at him.

She sauntered with deliberation down the hallway towards the locker room, her lip curled in frustration. Why was he being so stupid about this? Why would an employer refuse somepony to who wanted to work? And, since she was younger, she guessed that she made less than every other employee there! So there was that too. Playing with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom might be fun, she thought, but it wouldn't help her keep her home. At her cubby, she looked up at the "Premiere Dishwasher" note with disdain, and swatted it down. It drifted slowly down the floor, face down.

Still fuming, she tore off her apron and thrust it inside. She lifted her helmet up, and saw that placed underneath it, was a white styrofoam container. She recognized it as a to-go box that Olive's Garden used. Dark red tomato sauce was leaking out from one of sides - the box was clearly stuffed. There was another sticky note atop the container, and because of the heat radiating from inside the box, it gave no resistance when Scootaloo peeled it off. The note read;

You're only young once. Enjoy it!
And the food too.

O.

Scootaloo inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Clearly, Mr. Olive knew that she would object to not working, or he wouldn't have felt the need to bribe her with pasta. Was she really becoming that predictable?

She sighed again. What if he was right?

It had been over a month since she and the other Crusaders had spent any time together. Now, it seemed like the only time they had spent together was them trying to convince Scootaloo to actually do something with them. Like the school project. Or even just a simple sleepover. Or a crusade. Jumping and splashing about in leaf piles sure seemed awfully tempting...

Then, she smiled. She was still just a filly after all, right? And surely, once she sent the letter in to FSR Realties, the discrepancies with her 'parents' account would be fixed, and she wouldn't need to work all weekend anyways! And, she couldn't deny, she longed to see Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom again, and spend some quality time with them. After all, even when her spirits had floundered during her extended stay at Warm Stables orphanage, they always made her feel better.

So, that settled it! Scootaloo was officially coming off her hiatus as a Cutie Mark Crusader this weekend! She couldn't wait to tell Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, and she supposed she ought to thank Mr. Olive for the opportunity as well. She suddenly wished she hadn't acted so immaturely back in the kitchen...

Blushing, so strapped her helmet upon her head, and gripped the styrofoam box gently in her mouth. As she was leaving, something on the ground caught her eye.

Though Mr. Olive might not know it, Scootaloo hoped that reposting the note above her cubby, the one declaring her status as "Premiere Dishwasher," would be seen as a token of acceptance. And possibly, of gratitude.

She stepped outside, and the cool evening air did little to dampen her mood.

Author's Note:

Preread by the eminent RaylanKrios.

Comments

[Blue2411]

This is amazing! I need more!

[Walabio]

Poor Scootaloo is under so much stress. I feel for her.

[Mystiknight]

It is nice to have you and this story back.

[secret closet bronie]

Another chapter?! Rock on man!

[Godzillawolf]

""Only joking," he patted Scootaloo on the shoulder playfully. "Anyways, I'm going to get going. The outdoor cinema is going to be closing soon for winter, and the movie Twelve Donkeys just came out on Friday. Gonna go see it tonight with some friends, it's supposed to be really good.""

Hehe! Nice pun!

Also, like seeing Scoots interacting with her co-workers, really does hammer in how long she's known these ponies.

I like her boss and co-workers, they both come off as being good ponies and I do feel like they're supporting her.

And yeah, her boss does have a point, she really needs to stop being so stressed. She's putting way too much stress on herself, Understandably so, but still.

[Emperor]

Mr. Olive seems like a genuinely nice pony, but again there seems to be a deliberate case of obfuscation and burying his head in the sand. My best guess is that he probably assumes Scootaloo has a poor family and she's working tons of hours to bring in income, but hesitates to approach the topic with her at all. It seems Filthy Rich either doesn't know that Scootaloo actually works at his store, or he doesn't care.

You know, I'm mildly surprised Scootaloo hasn't decided to sneak apples from the Apple Family Farm yet . Unless she does and we just haven't seen any on-screen mention of it yet.

[Lord King Cocoon]

This chapter makes me want to see Olive adopt Scootaloo.