Our Professional Lives

by abandoned2123

Change

Nopony likes change. To conform to a new lifestyle is to abandon what has become so precious to you, to have such an essential part of your life stripped away in favor of sewing on another piece to patch up the offending hole that has formed in your own self. Alas, it is a conflict that even the youngest of fillies and colts must face, no matter how trivial.

Snails patrolled along the neatened corridors of the small pens carefully, his long neck craned to the ground as to catch sight of any offending straws of hay or specks of dirt. His spectacles occasionally slid to the tip of his round nose, only to be shoved back by an unthinking spurt of magic.

The freshly groomed goats and sheep stared back at him with beady eyes of indifference as the golden stallion walked back and forth from station to station, eyes closed to slits. His limbs seemed to creak as he walked, like rusted door hinges in need of a good squirt of oil. Even so, he carried himself well for a colt of his respected age.

For good measure, he paced down the aisle one more time. It was still early morning, and the zoo wouldn't open for another hour or so. Snails always came early to work, more out of habit than a need to gain brownie points from his boss.

The lavender tinted snail stamped to the stallion's flank seemed to stretch and distort as he walked in front of one of the smaller pens. Inside the widened bars lay a young kid nestled to his mother, snow white against the gentle yellow glow of the new straw that Snails had laid down for them all earlier.

The kid stared up at the lanky pony with large, expressive eyes while his mother merely slept, not yet caught up with the prospect of the day's events.

Snails grinned widely and leaned over to reach a hoof through the bars. "G'morning Gordon," he chirped, allowing himself to stroke the underside of the kid's chin, whose tail merely wagged in reply. "Got a long day ahead of us, you're ready for it, right?"

There was no reply, yet Snails paused all the same as if expecting the animal to speak to him. He didn't seem deterred at the inevitable silence, and offered the kid's mother a respectful nod before resuming his neurotic walk once more.

His hoof-falls echoed throughout the interior of the building, on account of the high ceiling and concrete floor. Despite the crudeness, the local Canterlot Petting Zoo had been a public favorite for years, and it was obvious. The location was in the prime spot of being smack dab next to the suburbs, allowing for little foals and their parents to have easy access on the weekends. It was a large building on the inside, though most of the space was eerily empty without the inclusion of little knots of customers and squealing teenagers laced throughout.

With his limbs growing tired of their endless pacing, Snails finally stopped his inspection with a tired sigh. It seemed clean enough, with the straw in the pens neatly changed and the animals freshly pampered. Yes, everything was ready for the day on his end.

His large ears twitched upwards as the sound of an opening door erupted from the front of the expansive chamber. Taking some steps forward, the stallion could see a bare silhouette of a young looking pegasus mare walking inside. She held a long, rolled up piece of parchment in her front hoof as she kicked the door shut from behind.

"Clover, is that you?" Snails called, though not loudly as to surprise the animals. The mare flinched sharply, and her wings unfurled in surprise.

"Mr. Snails?!" On impulse, the mare turned to the side and tossed the rolled up poster underneath the admissions table. "Wh-What are you doing here so early for?" she stammered slightly, wings beating as to allow herself to gently glide over the pens and tables to her co-worker's side. "Didn't the boss tell you to come in a little later today? Or did you miss the memo?"

Snails rolled back his thin, knobby shoulders with an apologetic grin. "Eh, sorry. Old habits die hard I guess."He pointed a hoof towards the admissions table. "Was that thing in your arm for me?"

Clover nodded, her ears flopping to the sides of her earthy green mane. "Well, yeah. It isn't like we can just send you off without a few gifts, right?" she reasoned plainly. In an absent-minded gesture, she folded one wing to her side before stretching out the other, curling it about so that she could inspect her rows of neatly trimmed feathers. She was fairly young, of college age. Working at the petting zoo had been more of a side job for her, a quick way to get some pocket change.

A light navy blue surrounded the stallion's horn, and Snails turned to the side to one of his pens, allowing for the invisible hand of his magic to stroke at the fur of one of his lambs. "I thought I told you guys that I just wanted a normal last day," he muttered. "No big surprises or anything, you know?"

"Oh, come on Mr. Snails..." Clover took a hesitant step closer. "This is kind of more for us if that would make you feel better," she admitted. "I mean, we're gonna really miss you not hanging around."

"Good grief Clove; it's not like I'm on my deathbed." Snails rolled his eyes in a melodramatic fashion. "And it's not like I'm leaving for good either. Just because I'm at the retirement age doesn't mean that I can't come and volunteer," he reasoned simply.

The mare's head seemed to visibly droop. "I guess that's true... it's not gonna be the same though."

"Nah, you'll hardly notice that it ever happened by the end of the week. Trust me," Snails reassured her. "Think of it like... like I'm switching to a part-time job. I just don't get paid and end up getting in everypony's way." He smiled gently.

"Alright alright..." Clover snorted and looked over at the lamb that her co-worker was petting, the illumination of his magic tinting the areas of the animal's pelt that were given attention. The beast in question lay on its side, chest rising and falling in gentle sleep. "Hugo and the rest are gonna miss you..." she mumbled randomly.

"Eh, I bet I'll miss them more than they will me." Snails chuckled. "They only care about the hoof that feeds em', right?" his horn faded back out, and he shook his head to clear the muddled thoughts that had arisen from using it for such an extended period.

"Don't you care more than that though?" the pegasus inquired. She nodded her head towards Snails' flank, where the snail that was plastered there stared back at her with dead, lifeless eyes. "Your special talent is animal care, isn't it?" she looked to her own flank, glancing at the four-leaf clover branded upon her own thigh.

At this, Snails let out a strained bark of laughter, seeming to forget that the majority of the animals were still fast asleep. "I think my talent is more like... well." He paused, as if to gather his thoughts. "Think of it this way, what are snails known for?" he asked the younger mare.

Clover raised an eyebrow. "Being slow, but that seems kinda... insulting," she answered bluntly.

The stallion nodded. "Right, but I think my talent is kind of more... how do I put it? I can take a slower pace with what I do, so I can get a better job done." He seemed satisfied with this explanation, though his tail swished back and forth in mild uneasiness. "There's probably something to do with animals in there too, but I dunno. Not like I can change my mind now, right?"

"Guess you're right," Clover agreed with a small nod and jumped up, her wings beating a few times as to lift herself over the thick wall of pens to her own aisle. "Not like I can complain for that. I mean, my talent isn't really a talent either, just good luck."

Snails didn't comment on that. Frankly, the subject of cutie marks was always a little more than embarrassing for himself. As a foal, his own mark had been pretty admirable by his own perspective. It was unique, and a perfect match to his peculiar name. Now that he was older and more self-conscious it became more of an uncomfortable conversation piece than a mark to be proud of. There was something just so oddly derogatory about those two vacant eyes that glared back at him from his flank, though the awkward sensation that arose couldn't be helped.

To get his mind off of the matter, the stallion stretched out his rather long neck to peer over the line of his own pens. The distance was too far to really pinpoint where his co-worker had gone off to. "Do you need help changing the bedding?" he asked.

"Nope! Just take it easy. I'll be fine," Clover's voice sounded out, though her location was near impossible to tell due to the lousy acoustics of the building.

Annoyed, Snails resumed his pacing from before. Take it easy? He wasn't sure whether or not that was an unintentional insult or a reassurance. Just because it was his last official day of employment didn't mean that he was some old infirm prune of a pony! At that thought, the stallion let his pace quicken to a power walk. Like Tartarus he was old!

Occasionally he'd catch glimpses of Clover flying to and fro, doing a protocol check to see how the animals were faring en masse. After she did a few flyovers, he watched as she took a brief break to land at the admissions table. She ducked her head underneath to grab the rolled up banner in her mouth. As she did so, she threw a slight look in Snails’ direction, to which the stallion took as a subtle hint as to not stare.

Rolling his eyes, he turned around and paced to the back of the room. Many of the older animals were awake now, though only barely. Some were just stumbling about on their hooves as they woke up, their mouths unhinging in silent, tired yawns. Throughout the building, a faint rustling of hay and the helpless bleating of infant beasts was heard reverberating from the walls.

"There we go!" Clover's brassy tone overpowered the cacophony of the room's noise, and Snails turned to her direction. The mare was overlooking her handiwork at hanging up the wide banner above the zoo's entrance door. Effortlessly hovering in the air, she turned to the side and held out her arms towards it in a triumphant gesture.

It was a pretty thing, dyed in the same bleak orangy yellow as the stallion's pelt. The border around it was a swirly lavender, a hue most reminiscent of his cutie mark. Upon the surface was scrawled out "Good luck, Mister Snails!" in messy black ink. The letters were slightly smudged into one another. No doubt Clover had rolled up the parchment before she had properly waited for the ink to dry.

Needless to say, Snails was touched. He walked up to close the distance between him and her, a warm smile plastered to his face. "Shucks, Clove..." he looked to the ground and rubbed the back of his head with a hoof. "You all are really embarrassing me today, you know that?"

"It's kinda our job, you know." Clover dropped to the ground, knees buckling as her hooves cracked against the hard concrete. "At least you don't have to worry about the boss getting you anything," she muttered.

Just then, the entrance door was shoved open by the stocky head of a rather large Earth pony. The two employees jolted in surprise, having not heard the hoof-beats that were muffled by the walls.

Grunting loudly, a tall stallion lumbered in with with a look that seemed to demand respect. His reddish pelt rippled with each heavy step that he took, and his mane hung in greasy strands that had pasted themselves to his sweaty forehead. Upon his massive flank was a cluster of pinkish hearts, about seven for each of his hind legs. Nervously, the two employees stood frozen in expectation.

"G'morning boss!" Snails piped up, though the smile on his face was incredibly forced. Even after all of these years; he had never gotten used to the stoic, silent nature of his employer. He was a stallion that only went by his respective title, with his name completely shrouded from public viewing.

The boss gazed at each of his workers in turn, boring craters into their skulls from the hardness of his darkened eyes. He looked up at the makeshift banner. It was waving back and forth slightly, blown by the slight draft that was seeping in from the open door.

"You like it?" Clover ventured to ask, lips curling into a faux grin. "I figured it'd be a good idea to get Mr. Snails somethin' nice for his last day," she explained.

"It is awful nice of her, don't you think?" Snails butted in.

After what seemed like a long, long pause, the boss nodded in affirmative and walked away towards the back of the chamber. There was a tiny office for him there, and for the most part he usually just holed himself up for the remainder of his work shift.

As soon as he had closed the little office door behind him, both Snails and Clover breathed a long sigh of relief, their exhalations tinged with a few breathless chuckles here and there.

"Well, if he's here... guess it's time to start opening up." Snails took a quick glance to the large clock situated on the wall. "Yup, right on the dot. Five minutes before opening..."

"He smiled at you."

Ears pricked in surprise, Snails turned to Clover, who simply stared back at him. "What do you mean?"

"What I said; he smiled at you." the mare rolled back her shoulders in a careless shrug, a wry grin settled on her face. "I'm not the only one who's gonna miss you, Mr. Snails..." she added in quickly.

Snails shook his head, his brow furrowing in annoyance. "Clove... How many times have I said that I'm gonna visit? Not much is gonna change for you apart from having to take my workload." He chuckled. "And really; I know that you can handle that on your own as well as anypony else could."

"That's not what I meant..." Clover's tail swished to the side in dismissal, and as she spoke she walked towards the entrance door to prop it open at a wider angle. They were open for business. "I know for a fact that you aren't married."

The stallion opened his mouth, though no rebuttal or reassurance came to his lips. Instead, he closed his maw slowly, keeping his face blank. For a short moment; he simply stood there, hooves planted squarely in the middle of the aisle of animals that he had tended to for so many years. The eyes that stared back at the mare were shrouded by the thick glass of his spectacle lenses, rendering his emotions unreadable.

Clover's expression turned bleak upon the realization of the sheer magnitude that her words might have had, and she walked towards her co-worker with her head bowed in submission. "I'm sorry... Did I say something wrong?" she asked meekly. Her creamy green wings were unhinged, flopped to her sides.

"No." Snails shook his head and walked towards the nearest pen that he could find. Two little lambs were staring up at him mournfully, their mouths opened in silent pleas for their bottles. With a bitter smile, the stallion allowed for his magic to pick up two of the milk-filled containers and levitated them above the pen's door. "You didn't say anything wrong, Clove. It's okay," he murmured as the two lambs immediately toddled over to suckle at the bottle's tips, all outlined in the darkish blue of his magic. "It isn't like it's some big milestone to get hitched or anything. Heh. Snips isn't married either, remember?" He forced a chuckle.

The mare shuffled slightly in her spot, as if trying to stall for time in want of saying something in apology. In the end; she remained silent, and let her wings lift her from the ground to attend to some other last-minute duty.

The work day dragged on at a slowish pace. To Snails, the normalcy of the schedule was a blessing. He enjoyed going about his work at a nice, productive pace. Of course, there would be the occasional rowdy foal and, even worse, the one that would throw a temper tantrum. Then Snails would be right there, with a gentle smile and an encouraging or stern word to correct whatever youngster had dared to interrupt the peaceful atmosphere of the environment that he had so cultivated.

It was only natural that the occasional parent would notice the banner hanging above the door on their way out, and at every instance they would turn to the stallion with a small, comforting smile. "You did a good job," they would say. "You're so lucky! I don't get my retirement for another six years!" another would remark. And with every mare and stallion, there would always be that same hint of pity, of sadness in their voices that made for their words to sound sickeningly fake to Snails' ears.

It was at around five PM when his work shift ended, when the zoo closed for the day to allow for the animals to get some needed rest from being endlessly coddled. Clover and the robust form of his boss had walked up to him, with Clover's own smile laced with both acceptance and sadness. The boss was more subtle in his expression, or at least he tried to be. Snails could practically feel the empathy that was oozing from the stallion's expressive eyes.

Snails could feel their eyes glued onto him as he walked from pen to pen, his magic transferring from one sheep to another goat to stroke their pelts in turn. He went at an agonizingly slow pace, his joints seeming to creak and groan with each step. No wonder the age of mandatory retirement was where it was. At that bitter thought; the stallion chuckled bitterly to himself.

As soon as all farewells had been said to his bestial charges; Snails then turned to his co-workers. Noting their somber expressions, he offered a wide, faux grin. "Come on, guys! How many times do I have to say it?" he joked. His greenish tail wagged much like a puppy's. "You're both acting like it's my funeral or somethin'."

While the boss remained stoic as ever; Clover raised a hoof to hide her giggling. "Way to ruin the mood, Mr. Snails..." she smiled. "Go on, get out of here." she playfully thrust an foreleg towards the door and turned away from him. "At least we already got the promise that you're coming back without pay, you saint, you."

"Mmwell... I suppose so." Snails rolled back his slender shoulders in a stiff shrug, and he turned to his silent employer with a short, respectful bow of the head. "I'll see you around, boss," he mumbled.

He thought that would be it, that his respectful farewell would be enough, but apparently it wasn't. A stiff hoof was brought down onto the unicorn's back, and Snails looked up to see the massive stallion staring back at him, his eyes locked to his own.

The awkward contact lasted for about ten seconds, during which neither party moved. If anything, they scarcely breathed. Finally, the boss removed his foreleg and walked back to his office at a quick, nearly jogging pace, leaving Snails behind in a stupor.

Clover had left during the long exchange of silence. No doubt the weirdness of the whole ordeal had frightened her off, leaving Snails all by himself to look over what was to be left behind. As his eyes started to glaze over the surroundings a final time, he shook his head to stop and firmly march to the front door. He had said his goodbyes for long enough as it was.

With a short burst of careless magic; he shut the door behind him to face the outside,

Just like that; it was all eliminated. The smell of molding, damp hay was gone. The feel of a lamb's curled pelt was gone. The stale air that made his fur so hot was gone. The bright, chipper voice of Clover was gone. The odd, peculiar cluster of hearts stamped to his boss's flank were gone.

And it would only come back if Snails ever decided to come back.

The thought forced a shiver up the stallion's spine, and for a split second he looked back to the door with a wide-eyed look of helplessness. There was nopony there. Of course, being near the suburbs offered the advantage of being near a collective cacophony of playing foals and chatting couples... yet such noises only made the sensation of social destitution all the worse for him.

From the door; the pathway went either right or left. Going into the right direction would have led Snails into the central hub of Canterlot, with all of the towering buildings and looming infrastructures. On the other hand; the left path would have taken him to the rural suburbs, where among the small clusters of houses he would find his snug little apartment.

Despite how many would automatically assume that turning towards the direction of his home would be the next step in his set regime; this wasn't the case. After a short moment of reflection, Snails took the right turn towards the city, his face basked in the waning sunlight that blanketed the skyline from up ahead.

There was no thought in the action, because it had been automatic.

It was time for his daily shave.

Comments

[Thyrai]

This one looks really good, reading ASAP!

[CelestialScribe]

I would have never thought to match his cutie mark with a slow-pace style of work, well done for that!
That awkward moment when you think your boss is about to make a move on you. Well that's what I thought at first glance, haha.

WOW I AM SLOW. Snips = scissors mark = barber. It all makes sense now!

Next chapter!