No Abuse Like Snow Abuse!

One thing they don’t tell you in class is Snowdrop’s mane is very absorbent. We’ll get into that later. For what more interesting a subject could there possibly be than the amazing and fantastic life of Squeaky Clean, resident filth management custodian of Snowdrop’s school. Of course, most call him a janitor, because nobody bothers to learn his name. After all, who would waste their time learning the name of a stallion such as Squeaky?

His life is death. He is the one capable of animation beyond the grave, for not even the rot of earth would allow him the sweet release to be swallowed into its frigid and tightly packed confines. He held the worms, who were allegedly beneath him in the circle of life, in a state of ressentiment for when they must bring their mortal coil to an end they simply stop and reside in the ground. A perfect grave. A grave he so yearns for every moment he spends awake and every second he spends asleep.

In short: He hates his life. And to be fair, who wouldn’t hate his life? He’s a loser. His drooped eyes fixed in a stare that glassed over for he never blinked. He couldn’t even muster the energy to blink. His stooped posture made depression affect his surroundings, wilting flowers and soiling souls as he passed by. And yet he is still at a ripe age, a young Stallion who could be slaving away on a farm with one hoof behind his back easy. But the months he spent at his profession drained him ever so of the vitality he never deserved. Plus nobody’s confirmed this but he stinks.

And so he toils day after day, with the present time being no different. He just cleans up after the children outside of the school, soaking up puddles and scrubbing away dirt that gathers up around its grounds. A dip in the bucket goes his mop, a wipe on the floor, and repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Time after ever so lethargic time. This action, with its ever constant repetition, deadened his senses and mind so that this was all he was capable of. If he needed to move to and clean another spot, somepony moved him. If his workday was at an end, he would go home and still repeat the motions. And at his home it was all the same, to dip and to wipe. Of course, this is very uncomfortable for his neighbors because whenever they spot him in this motion they always find the need to look away and cover their children’s eyes.

If he wasn’t so good and dedicated to his one job, he would’ve been fired. Of course, today may be the one exception to that for in his constant dipping and wiping he was left severely handicapped. Somepony stole his mop. Not that he minded, had he any mind to use. He just continued as per the usual on the stoop of the schoolhouse next to his mop bucket filled with water treated with things best left unsaid.

Nopony cared that he wasn’t doing his job, because he’ll eventually get his tool back, probably. Because after all, who cares about a pony named Squeaky? Nobody in their right mind can look at Squeaky and think to pay him any care.

“Oof!” Said Snowdrop when she bumped into the haphazardly placed ‘water’ bucket. “Sorry sir!”

. . . Well, in Snowdrop’s defense she can’t see him. Nor could she see that she was very clearly apologizing to the bucket. Nor could she protect herself from being grabbed up by the tail by the janitor. It seems that whilst Snowdrop was apologizing to the bucket, good ol’ Squeaky Clean mistook Snowdrop’s tail for a broom handle.

And with his newfound tool he dunked the other end of it into the bucket, which then produced a bunch of odd bubbling and gurgling noises. He then pulled it out of the filth water and sweeped up the stoop of the school until it was spotless. Amazingly, this new mop was able to retain the water much better than usual which made the task less exhausting. And by the end of the day when all the young fillies and colts were let out of class, he mopped up all the puddles, refuse, and muck left over by the children. And when his job was done and the mop’s head was left a decent sheen of sewage brown, he left it in the bucket in the middle of the classroom and returned home for the day.

Shortly after the custodian left the teacher returned to the class to rifle through her desk drawers in search of a precarious item of no particular importance to anypony else and is frankly none of their business because she’s an adult now and so she is allowed to make the choices for her life. And when she had finally found her precious possession, reeking like the usual corn syrup and cabbage, she was just about to leave when she was startled by a noise. The bucket left over by the janitor had tipped over and spilled coagulated sludge that may have once been water all over the floor. And who was there, standing in the spill of this vicarious substance but Snowdrop, as she should have expected.

The teacher just shook her head in disappointment. “Snowdrop, please go home and get bathed. I really don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“Alright. Goodbye Ms. Windith.” And with this farewell, Snowdrop scampered outside, splashing ooze all over the place as she trotted along her way.

So yes, Snowdrop’s mane is indeed very absorbent.