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.
Even though it was just barely six, the sun's glow had steadily lessened behind the massive hills and long stretched horizon. Its color had turned a reddish gold, its vast expanse draping the city of Canterlot in its raw comfort. The hot humidity of summer had given way to a light, refreshing breeze. Snails allowed for his eyes to close as the wind lightly caressed his sweaty pelt and stringy mane. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, offering for some respite against the blanket of silence that had fallen over the city.
The Princess had made a mandatory retirement date for a reason. It wasn't meant as a reward, but as a safety precaution to the older ponies in question. It was sad, but true, inevitable even. It was one of those 'major milestones' in a pony's life, like those tacky parties you'd get for your fiftieth birthday.
At that thought, the stallion kept his pace going. It wasn't that long of a walk to where he was going, but the short distance alone was enough to press on his aching legs. He had gotten stiff over the last few decades, so much so that it had begun to infringe on doing even the most basic of duties. What had been so simple and taken for granted had morphed into a herculean task that seemed to press harder and harder upon his frail form.
And yet, there was something calming about the slowness of his metamorphosis. The increasing folds of hide and skin that overlapped themselves were counted each and every week, with always one new one to add to the collection. His cutie mark had begun sagging, yet its image remained just as clear and crisp as ever.
Eventually, Snails had to stop. His creaky legs had forced a halt as he had trudged up the steady incline of a small hill. Shakily, the stallion allowed for his head to scoop downwards to examine his ill-fated legs.
He was far from being a narcissistic sort of pony, yet so much more often now Snails always found himself examining his own body with heightened interest. He did so now, his eyes darting to and fro as he scrutinized every solitary wrinkle and dimple of skin that was so displayed for his view.
He marveled at the sight of his pointed hooves, which were far smaller than expected for his tall, lean form. In his earlier days, his hide would encompass them tightly, so that even his hooves would retain that same, golden glow of his pelt. Now the skin looked much more akin to water, wavy and squishy to the touch.
For what seemed hours, Snails simply stared. Out of his own childish fascination he lifted his foreleg, and wiggled it slightly. It was marveling, really, to think that his brain was capable of moving such ancient limbs! All he needed was just one little command and voila! There his hooves would go! His complex machinery would go on for some time yet if it was still as responsive as this!
Yet it was rusting all the same.
Snails lifted each leg in turn, allowing for all four of his limbs to be tested for their strength and smoothness. All failed. It took some difficulty to balance on three legs, and every movement caused for a ripple of shivers to weave their ways across his body.
Cogs and gears crackled and moaned in protest, and for a split second, all seemed to shut down. Snails gasped as he felt his body stiffen, though only from the strain that he had inflicted upon it. He had experimented too much for his body's tastes, Spreading all four hooves to the sides of his torso, the stallion steadied himself, his concentration tightened.
For several moments, he stood there, unmoving. His eyes were clasped shut, and his ears had flattened themselves against his flaking scalp. There was nothing, nothing but the sensation of his working lungs and the air that passed through his flared nostrils.
"Sir, are you okay?"
Concentration was broken, and Snails' head snapped up to find himself looking face to face with two middle-aged looking stallions staring back at him. Both wore concerned expressions on their faces. The one that had spoken was the smaller of the two, with a bright golden coat and a light teal mane.
"Wh-What?" Snails stammered, eyes widened as if ripped from some unforeseen trance.
The larger of the two stallions stepped forward and craned his neck downwards. The pink glow from the waning sun tinted his sky blue pelt beautifully, along with the dull orange of his mane. "We just saw you standing there staring at your hooves and... well..." he faltered, as if embarrassed, and his partner took over.
"We were just hoping if you were alright, mister," the yellow stallion finished.
"Oh no, no... I'm fine." Snails let his aching body convulse in a final tremor before he forced himself to stand more steadily and raise his neck. The two ponies that had stopped at his side were both pegasi, he noticed. For Canterlot, to see even two of them was an unusual occurrence.
The two winged ponies both looked over him with some concern before the light blue one spoke back up. "We can help you to where you need to go... if you want..." he offered.
"Mm. Yeah. We can get you back home if you need it. It's no trouble," the other chimed in.
In truth, Snails was a little offended that they would so automatically consider him too helpless and infirm to even walk a partial distance on his own, but his appearance was probably the source of their doting concerns. If anything he was used to such treatment nowadays, what with everypony trotting on by to see if he 'needed help' with even the most mundane of activities and tasks.
After a moment, the elderly stallion just shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, really, but I'm not that far from where I gotta go. It's just a little farther down the road," he explained evenly, putting on the nicest of smiles that he could muster up.
"Wait a moment..." The smaller pegasus glanced at Snails' cutie mark, and a sudden grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "I recognize that mark! You're the unicorn that works at the petting zoo, aren't you?" he asked. His friend smiled as well, evidently realizing the same thing.
Snails winced slightly, though kept his composure. "Funny thing, actually... This was my last day. I'm retired now," he mumbled slowly. His spectacles slid down the bridge of his nose, and he allowed for a slight touch of magic to bring them back into their proper position.
"Really?" The taller of the two frowned a little, and his expression took on a more somber look. "That's a shame... Congratulations though, I mean..." he fumbled on his words, giving Snails the impression that the stallion wasn't really one for talking.
Thankfully the yellow pegasus came to his friend's rescue, and placed a hoof to his shoulder to quiet him down. "You may not remember us. I'm Penmanship." He gestured towards himself, and for a split second Snails caught sight of the unmistakable fountain tip pen that was pasted to the pony's flank.
"I'm Clock Work..." the larger stallion piped up. "We brought our daughter to the zoo a few years back when we, ah, first adopted."
"Mm. I remember... you were the one that scolded her when she tried pulling on one of the lamb's tails. Right before either of us even noticed," Penmanship added in.
Snails just stared at the two, his brow furrowed as he tried to recall some event that had obviously faded. Of course many couples had taken their foals to the zoo, and as such they all seemed to meld together. He shook his head finally. "M'sorry..." he murmured.
"No, no! It's fine, seriously." Penmanship nodded vigorously. "Not like it's a big deal or anything."
"I guess it isn't," Snails agreed slowly. He glanced over their heads to look at the sun's position, eyes widening upon the realization that he had squandered time. "Look, it's great seeing you all but I got an appointment to go to, if you don't mind," he sheepishly mumbled.
Without a second glance, the golden stallion forced himself to step forward and continue on. His floppy ears could catch the unmistakable snippets of worried conversation that the two pegasi shared, but it was ignored. He could see his destination.
It was a small building right along the front of the central point of the city, a humble little barbershop that was squashed between two massive apartment squares. It looked out of place, a tiny rock against boulders.
Outside of this building was a stout, elderly stallion. He was a portly thing, with stubby little legs and a pudgy face that had formed about his little wrinkles here and there. His light blue coat and orange mane bore a strikingly familiar contrast to Snails' own hues.
As Snails approached, the smaller unicorn looked up at him with an annoyed expression.
"You're late, Snails!" he accused.
Snails grimaced slightly. "Sorry, Snips... I told ya I'd be here later than usual. Big day and all." He shrugged.
Snips’ hardened frown softened a little, and he turned to the door of the little barbershop. "Well, you're here now. You had me really worried though, you know? Sometimes I keep wondering whether or not you might just topple over on that road," he rambled. His large buck tooth had stayed with him even through adulthood, and it had remained to be the source of his lisp.
Without even turning to face the door, Snips’ horn began to glow a yellowish gold and the doorknob of his little shop was turned open, pushing it aside to allow for Snails to go on ahead.
The inside of the barbershop was just as small as the outside, small in that only a few clients could be tended to at once. There were only two chairs that one could sit in for a shave and a haircut, though they were obviously worn. The upholstery that covered them was ripped and mangled, with little puffs of stuffing seeping from each and every crack.
The lighting was dim, yet was low in a way that felt homely to Snails. It was here that he could finally unwind for the day, to ease himself off of his aching hooves and allow for some other pony to take the reigns.
His small hooves tapped loudly against the buffered linoleum flooring as he went to his customary chair. It was the one on the left, the one that allowed for him to gaze out of the shop's single window. It was a lovely view, one that encompassed a mass of buildings in the Canterlot suburbs.
Without a word, the golden stallion settled down into his chair with a relaxed sigh and leaned back. His head rested against the lumpy cushion on the chair, and he could feel Snips working with the mechanism to allow for the seat to reel backwards. For now; there was no talking. There was only that warm sensation, that sense of complete and total trust that only his dear friend could provide.
Snails felt the chair being pulled back so that he was nearly laying down, and he tilted his chin back to expose the hollow of his throat. "How was your day?" he broke the silence as he felt a damp cloth press against his neck. "Was it good?"
"Oh, it was pretty average," Snips replied, as casual as ever. "It could have been better... but I still have about two months left to go. There's plenty of time to get some good days in then, right?" he chuckled.
"I suppose you're right..." Snails mumbled. He opened his eyes to look at the broad expanse of the ceiling, if only to give himself something to look at as Snips dabbed a fair amount of shaving cream onto his cheeks. "Any good customers?"
"Ehh... just the usual. Tiara's grandson came in to try me out." The blue unicorn tottered over to a small counter and pulled every drawer below open with a short burst of magic. "Said I was pretty good, but not as good as some of the other joints." he fished around in one of the drawers and pulled out a dull, clean knife. It's shiny surface seemed to glitter against the setting sun, reflecting light upon the eggshell white of the walls.
Snails scoffed, but couldn't help a smile. "Was her grandson as snooty as she was when we were in school?"
"Let's just say that the apple didn't fall too far from the tree."
The two shared a hearty laugh, and Snails closed his eyes once more as he felt the tip of a blade gently set itself upon his bristled neck. "Mm... Speaking of apples," he talked in a low voice, keeping his mouth closed to a slit as the knife trailed along his jawline. "Have ya heard anything from Applebloom recently?"
"Nada." Snips sighed. "Last time I heard from her was a few weeks ago, back when she was doing that big art showcase for somepony," he talked easily, more than aware that Snails was pretty much rendered mute as the knife trailed along his upper lip. "I saw her granddaughter yesterday. Cute kid, but I forgot the name. Something apple-related, probably." He pulled back the knife to examine his work thus-far, as well to give his friend a chance to speak.
Snails didn't say anything, preferring to just keep his eyes shut and chew over his friend's words. It wasn't a usual occurrence for him to be so silent, and the lack of conversation brought up alarm bells in Snips' head.
"Hey, Snails? You okay?"
The golden unicorn popped open an eyelid. "Hm? Oh. I'm fine, Snips. Fine."
"No, you're not. Is this about you retiring today?" Snips ventured. He stepped back over to his little counter to take up the damp washcloth, his magic gently levitating it over to press against the stallion's cheeks and neck.
"What do you think?" Snails asked, though not in an angry manner. The tall stallion had rarely, if ever gotten angry in his life. It was part of his 'special talent' to keep a level head, even if such grievous matters could still manage to worm their ways into his brain.
Even if the question was calm in its tone, Snips shrunk back. "Well... yeah Snails. I think that's what it is." he replied meekly. His ears were tilted backwards, and the fur on his neckline was slightly bristled in agitation. "You're supposed to be happy on your retirement day, you know?" he shook his head and took away the washcloth, having just had it motionlessly pressed against his friend's freckled cheek.
"It makes me feel old," Snails mumbled bluntly.
Snips couldn't help but laugh. "We are old," he corrected, using his magic to filter through his drawers before pulling out a small pair of scissors. They looked uncannily like his cutie mark. "Not like we can do much about it though. After all, how long have you known about your day? Scootaloo told me that she got a letter in the mail a few weeks before to remind her." He bent down to mess with the chair's machinery, grumbling to himself before the back was properly set upright. "Get your mane over your shoulders, won't you? Looks like you're due for a cut."
Snails allowed for his magic to shove his mane back so that it draped over the chair, his expression oddly stoic as he did so. "I'm not too old to work though! Why should there be a set day for me to leave if I can still do my job right?"
"Because then the government would make sense, and we can't have that, now can we?" Snips leaned over so that his friend could catch sight of his dramatic eye roll. "Besides... I'm sure there's a lot of fun stuff you can do now that you're out of the job, right?" he levitated the small scissors and set to work on the teal mane, snipping away at each little strand of long hair individually. Inefficient, yes, but it allowed for the two to have an excuse for a longer conversation.
The taller of the two was silent, unable to think of a sufficient reply. He looked down at his shriveled arms and wrinkly hooves that rested upon the arms of the chair. They looked so frail, so breakable, much like a cracked piece of glass that was ready to shatter.
They began to shake, those arms. Whether out of sudden despair or weakness, Snails didn't know. He could feel himself biting his lower lip, and from what seemed so far away could hear Snips' concerned baritone.
"Snails? You alright?"
Snips found it difficult to keep a firm grip on Snails' mane, more likely due to the fact that the stallion was completely shivering, "Are you cold? Here, I'll go turn the stove on and shut the window..."
Snails let his eyes clench shut as he heard Snips' hooves clack about on the flooring. A rumbling was heard as the stove was fired up, and the squeaking of the window pane as it slid down its frame. He could hear Snips trotting up to face him, and felt a hoof being gently placed on his shoulder, shaking him slowly.
"Come on, buddy. Snap out of it."
With a short sigh; the golden stallion allowed for his eyes to open once more, only to face the scrutinizing look of Snips' chubby face. "I-I'm alright... Honest," he mumbled. "I'm just, you know... worrying a little."
Snips raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "You? Worrying? That's new." he let his hoof linger on the stallion's shoulder before being brought down, slowly. "If anything; I'm the one who should be worrying. You're supposed to be the calm one!"
"R-Right..." Snails clasped his hooves together nervously, their bottoms rubbing against one another with a soft grating sound. "I'm sorry Snips, didn't mean to freak you out like that."
The smaller of the two didn't reply, instead preferring to take his former position with the scissors being brought into his magic once more. He brought his hoof up to take a small bit of the stallion's mane, all teal with just the slightest hint of ashen grey. He brought his instrument to it slowly, meditatively.
A blanket of silence fell over the two, with Snips barely concentrating on his work and Snails' eyes locked to the dirty windowpane. From the far-off distance, he thought that he could see the bare silhouettes of two flying pegasi.
"Hey, Snips?"
"Mm?"
Snails smiled slightly. "D'you remember that one time you gave Applebloom that love letter? You know, when we were kids?"
"I remember you telling me that it was written poetry, or something stupid like that," Snips scoffed. Had he been younger, he likely would have blushed from shame. Even in his adulthood the memory of trying to ask the little earth pony out was still burned into his mind. "And I was dumb enough to listen to you!"
"And she blew you off, I know," Snails finished.
"At least she got over it after a while," Snips muttered as he brought back his scissors to eye his handiwork. It was all pretty much done, all neatened and layered nicely. He couldn't help but beam at his mastery of the barbershop craft. "It took her about two years before she'd talk to me again."
The two shared a quiet laugh. By now the sun had already descended among the hills and valleys, making way for the bright full moon. Summer days were always short, short things. Luna seemed so eager to be utilizing her skills for so much extra time in the sultry months.
Neither pony moved for a few moments. Their breaths came softly, exhaling from open maws as they both gazed out the single window, with its glass tinted a dirty yellow and coated with a fine layer of dust.
Snails didn't need to be told that his session was over. Slowly; he slid out of the battered chair to the ground. The slapping of his hooves against the tiles broke the melancholic silence, and he turned to his friend.
"Snips?"
The pudgy teal unicorn set his tools down on the counter's edge, and offered a warm, questioning smile. Snails couldn't meet his eyes, and instead gazed down to the cracked tiles below.
"Can I stay over with you tonight? Like old times?" the orange stallion trembled, though was able to hold back the tears that threatened to bead the corners of his eyes.
Just like that; a pair of chubby arms found their ways across his thin neck. Snails watched as the smaller stallion had to raise himself on his hind legs to do so. It was an awkward position by appearance, yet to the two unicorns it was more than natural.
"Do you really have to ask?" Snips chuckled, and smiled as he felt his friend's long, lanky forelegs curl about his robust waist. "Come on now. I wouldn't be letting you go home by yourself if you're this messed up... Dear Celestia, I hope retirement doesn't throw me off as bad as this."
"Nah... It won't," Snails murmured as he pressed his snout against the stallion's mane.
Snips lightly pat his friend's back. "I got an idea..." he mumbled. "How about we go find the nearest bar, get drunk off our rumps and stumble back to my place for the night. Just like old times." he grinned. "Would that make you feel better?"
"I thought we had grown out of... 'that'," Snails muttered distastefully.
Snips pulled back from the hug and rolled his eyes. "Do you seriously believe that?" he asked. "Come on. It'll be fun! We can even get one of those little drinks with the umbrellas that you like so much, hm? What do you say?"
Snails looked at his friend and sighed. "I guess... If you really want, that is," he grumbled, though not without the faintest of smiles. "At least I can take pride in the fact that I was the one who grew up."
The smaller unicorn shrugged carelessly. "What do you expect from an old, unmarried bachelor anyway? Not like we were ever good looking enough to get any mares."
"Oh, I don't know," Snails replied with a shrug of his own, and an even wider, suggestive smile. "I think that you look just fine to me."
Snips smiled, but no other other words were exchanged between the two. There didn't need to be any, as the two had gone through such a ritual so many times before in the past. They left the barbershop with the biggest of grins on their aged faces, and they walked down the pathway even deeper into the depths of Canterlot.
Together.
