A Janitor's Duty

Fifteen minutes ago...

The most recent customer has left the clockwork shop, exiting through the left side of the double doors, leaving the shop completely empty. No pony was at the counter, behind the register, or looking at the many variations of clocks, big and small, short and tall. The only pony at the shop was the owner, Father Time.

The colt didn't look at all old, aside from the few silver stripes of hair running down his charcoal black mane, it being combed back. His skin was a slight tanning brown, which fit his moderate body shape. His sky blue eyes would tell you that you could trust him, rely on him. The one feature that really stood out, though, was his sexy mustache-beard combo. It wouldn't surprise you for a moment that those pieces of facial hair are the reason that most of his customers that come in are mares who wish to purchase a clock, mainly to see him and his luscious mustache and beard.

Thank goodness he doesn't cause a lot of divorces with that thing.

Now Father time would usually be found behind the register, wearing is work apparel that consisted of a light blue collared shirt, a grease-covered apron with pockets for his tools, and tan cargo pants. However, he had a pretty big order to fill out. It was for a father of two spoiled foals, who wanted (well demanded, really) a vintage coo-coo clock studded with gems and diamonds. So, he was at his workshop in the back of the store, working ever so diligently on the piece of fine craftsmanship, making sure to put every bit of detail into it. To Father Time, clocks were his art pieces, and he was about the make the Mona Lisa of them all.

However, the colt's progress was put to a hold when he heard the bell chime at the shop's entrance.

A customer? At this hour? He thought. Normally, no pony would come in the clockwork shop when it's nearing closing time. To have a customer come in this late was oddly suspicious. However, Father Time could not turn down a customer, and he never did during his time working here. So, gently placing the latest diamond on the clock he was working on, he sat up from the stool he was sitting on, put his tools into the front pockets of his apron, and began to walk towards the front counter of the shop.

"Why hello! Welcome to my..." his words trailed off after seeing who entered the shop. The stranger was wearing a dark blue hoodie with the hood up, black jeans, and having its hands in its hoodie's pockets. Father Time couldn't quite make the face of the shady character, but it looked like a male unicorn to him, possibly in his late teenager years. His skin was like an aqua-marine green, almost similar to Lyra's. The front of his mane looked ashy gray. No clue on what his eyes looked like. These details were important to the owner, just in case the stranger was going to plan anything suspicious.

"...shop," he finished saying after slowing his pace towards the register.

The colt approached the front counter towards Father Time, his head looking down at the wooden floorboards of the shop, avoiding to look at the owner's face for some particular reason. This made the owner sweat a little bit, but not too noticeable. Taking in a small gulp, Father Time spoke to the hooded unicorn.

"So, uhh... what sort of clock are you looking for today, my good man? I got father clocks, coo-coo clocks, standard alarm clocks--" the owner was cut short after seeing the figure suddenly jerk his head toward him. Now, he could see the details of the stranger's face, and it made him sweat even more.

The colt's left eye was completely whited out with a vertical scar going over it, all the way down to his lower jaw. No iris, no pupil, no nothing. His right eye, however, looked fine, with a golden-yellow iris looking at him from across the counter. The front of his long mane swerved to the left of his face, possibly to cover his scarred eye. Then, the colt's lips began to move and form words from his "hot teenage boy" voice.

"I'll take an alarm clock," the hooded figure said, still staring at the owner. Stuttering, Father Time began to form words of his own.

"V-v-very well, then. Which one?"

It was then the colt's arms started to move from his hoodie's pockets. In his hands were two medium sized sacks of blutes. He proceeded to drop them on the counter with a sound thud of coins.

"All of them," said the hooded colt.

Father Time just stood there motionless. His mind was pondering the situation of what was going on right now.

A hooded stranger just placed an order for *all** of my alarm clocks...Is this normal?* He thought while staring at the two sacks of blutes on his front counter. His lips were trying to move, but they still remained at bay. He didn't know what to think of the situation laid before him. That's the most money he has ever gotten in one order, but he was puzzled of why the stranger wanted all the alarm clocks in the shop. So, he asked the colt....

"S-s-s-so, what are you planning to do with all the alarm clocks if the deal is sealed, then?" he said, beginning to wipe sweat trickling down his forehead.

The colt quickly responded,"It's for charity, to those who can't afford a clock and run a tight schedule. Mothers, business colts, pastry chefs, you know."

Father Time wanted to continue to ask questions, but the one fact not a lot of his customers or family members know is that deep down that solid shell of a manly colt, there was a chicken controlling the entire thing. He may be a bit of a coward, but what he lacks in courage, he makes up for with his enhanced common sense. He knows trouble when he sees it, and he prefers not to get sucked up into it. That's the same feeling he's having with the stranger in front of him. He fears if he continued on, he might get made, and he'd rather keep his skin attached to his body.

So, wiping off even more sweat from his forehead, he nodded and grabbed a large crate big enough to hold all the alarm clocks the stranger bought. He carefully put each one into the crate and made sure all of them were organized correctly and stacked up perfectly. The owner then sealed the top with hammer and nails and patted the crate signaling that it was ready to go.

"Well, there you go. All of the alarm clocks in this store in one, tightly-sealed crate. I sure hope that those poor ponies down there get a good wake up call with these things so they can get a better handle on their schedules!" Father Time said with a few sighs. He then grabbed the sacks of blutes and put them under the register so he can count them later.

"Thank you," said the hooded colt. His horn glowed a gold color as he uses his magic to lift the crate from the counter and proceeded to exit the shop. That was until Father Time decided to pull a risky move and ask one more question to the colt.

"Sorry to hinder your progress of exiting this premise, but may I ask the name of the colt who bought all the alarm clocks in this store?"

The colt slowly turned his left shoulder towards the owner and answered his question in almost a whisper.

"Ion..."