Window Washers
Admiral Biscuit
The two pegasi walked side-by-side down the street. The blue stallion was wearing panniers with plastic five-gallon Home Depot buckets, while the white mare had a harness that looked like a cross between a utility belt and a bandoleer. There were several pairs of squeegees along the back, and pouches on the sides stuffed with cloths and soap.
They stopped at a traffic light, waiting patiently for traffic to cross. Cammy took the opportunity to shift around her harness—the squeegees tended to work their way out when she walked—and then leaned over and nuzzled Scrim on the cheek.
Both of them looked up and down the street when the light changed, in case any stragglers wanted to risk a ticket by running a red. Taxis, especially, often tried it.
By the time they'd crossed, the cluster of people that had bunched up at the signal passed them by.
They waved to Danny as they went by his hot dog cart, and he waved back.
Down two more blocks, and then they went into an alley that stank of garbage and piss. Cammy pulled the buckets out of her husband's pannier while he struggled with the lock on the hose bibb.
They had a moment to relax as the buckets filled, then he squirted a dollop of soap into each one, re-locked the bibb, and stood still as Cammy loaded the buckets back in his pannier. They had a short length of hose so they could fill them on his back, but this apartment building's hose bibb was damaged and the hose wouldn't thread on it.
“Are you ready?”
Cammy nodded, and the two of them took flight, climbing clear of the stinking alley and up into the early morning sunshine.
They flew all the way up to the roof, perching for a moment on the parapet to exchange a quick kiss, then dropped down over the edge to work on the penthouse windows. Cammy soaped, while Scrim squeegeed behind her.
•••
By the time they'd finished the penthouse, the buckets were half-empty, and they glided back down into the alley to refill them. Scrim watched for traffic—delivery trucks didn't always watch out like they should when they backed into alleys.
“I wish they had a pipe on the roof we could use to fill the buckets,” Cammy muttered. “I've never liked this alley.”
“At least it's only for a couple minutes.” Scrim's ears turned at the distinct sound of a truck's backup alarm. “You almost done?”
She nodded and shut off the water. “Get the lock while I load you up. Is he backing in here?”
“I can't tell yet. I can't see him, but he sounds like he's just outside the alley.”
“We'll be gone before he makes the turn.” She slid the first pail in place, and Scrim turned to receive the other.
“Yup, he's coming down here.”
“I see him.” Cammy dropped the second pail in place. “Let's go.”
The two of them took to the sky again, this time taking off towards the back wall of the alley so they wouldn't be crowded by the delivery truck, then turned and climbed over the top of the truck and out into the sunshine.
They lost sight of the delivery truck as they looped around the building, heading for the northwest corner. That was where they always started, just out of habit. It was good to have a routine.
The two of them quickly got in a rhythm as they worked their way along the wall. “Pity we can't bring any clouds down to sit on today.”
“I know, but it's so pretty outside. Let's fly out over the Hudson River once we're done.”
“Before or after we go back to our apartment?”
“Before. We can leave the buckets and stuff on a roof, nopony will bother them there.”
“Yeah.” Scrim nodded. “Remember that time we ate dinner on top of the George Washington Bridge?”
“We should do that again. Only this time, let's stop at Junior's and get ceviche.”
“It's a date.” He leaned over and pecked her cheek.
•••
By the time they got back around the building, the delivery truck was gone; it had been replaced with a garbage truck that was emptying one of the dumpsters.
“I can smell that up here,” Cammy muttered. “How come human garbage is so stinky?”
“Dunno.” Scrim turned his head back to look in the buckets. “I hope the smell's gone before we have to get more water.”
“I used to think it was 'cause they kept it in metal boxes and the sun heated them up, but the sun hardly ever gets in that alleyway, and it smells just as bad as any other dumpster.”
“At least there's a breeze up here and the smell goes away quick.”
“Maybe that's why people don't like windows that open in their apartments.”
“All the older brick apartments have windows that open.”
“That's true. They're not as nice inside as these, though, and that's something that people care about.”
“More than they should.”
•••
They finished the windows on three more floors before they decided to break for lunch. They refilled the buckets and left them on the roof—that way, Scrim wouldn't have to fly full buckets up right after eating.
Since they were already at rooftop level, they took a direct route to Danny's hot dog cart, their lunch destination of choice whenever they were close. Both of them dropped down together, alighting on the street at the end of the short line of customers. In typical New Yorker fashion, the queue ignored them.
It only took a minute for them to reach the front. “Two New York style, please.”
“Carrots or dogs today?”
Cammy turned to Scrim. “Are we really gonna have ceviche tonight?”
“If you want.”
She looked back at Danny. “Carrots today, please.”
“You got it.” He'd started stocking carrots for them, and it turned out that some people liked carrot dogs, too.
Instead of the usual paper holders, he put the dogs in a bag, holding it out so Cammy could grab it in her teeth.
Scrim set a five dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change, Danny.”
“Thanks. You have a good day, now.”
“You, too.”
•••
The two of them flew over the expressway and landed at the southeast end of the Cedar playground. Scrim glanced down at the fire station as they went by—the doors were closed.
“Maybe you could get a ride on one of the trucks if you offered to clean the station windows,” Cammy said after they'd landed.
“Do you think so?”
“It wouldn't hurt to ask.” She opened the bag and tore down one side with her teeth, turning it into a sort-of tablecloth.
“You're right.” He picked up his hot dog and began eating, his eyes constantly flicking over to the fire station.
“You never wanted to join the fire brigade back in Equestria.”
Scrim shrugged. “Equestrian fire wagons aren’t as cool. Engine 43 even has a pirate flag on the back!”
“And swords on the front, I know.” She leaned over and wiped a bit of sauerkraut off his cheek.
•••
After they'd finished eating, Cammy crumpled up their litter and walked to the entrance of the park—there was a garbage can right by the road.
Scrim trotted over to the fire station and stood on his hind hooves in front of the door. “The trucks are gone.”
“Must be out at a fire.”
“I didn't hear them go.”
“Me, either.”
“Didn't see any smoke.” He wrinkled his muzzle. “Or smell it.”
“We can look when we fly back,” Cammy suggested. “They might be out on the highway.”
“They usually don't use the ladder truck for car accidents. I've never seen it at one.”
“Tell you what, if we see a fire we'll go over and look, but we can't spend the afternoon looking for it. We've got windows to wash.”
“You're right.” He nuzzled her cheek. “You ready to go back to work?”
“Yup.”
•••
They didn't see any fires on the way back, nor did they spot the fire engines on the freeway.
Their buckets were still on the roof where they'd left them. Cammy loaded them into Scrim's pannier and the two of them went over the edge again, picking up where they’d left off on the ninth floor.
When they were on the sidewalk side, people occasionally paused to take pictures or movies of them. That had been weird at first, but they'd quickly learned to ignore them. People just liked taking movies of things.
They had to be careful to not splash on people below, or even worse, drop a tool. Probably if they did, the awning would catch it, but it was better to not take the chance. That was why everything had a little safety lanyard that clipped around their legs.
At least they didn't have to wear fall-arrest harnesses like humans did.
•••
They didn't have to wash the ground floor windows; that was the responsibility of the commercial tenants.
Cammy's stomach was grumbling by the time they finally finished the second floor. “Shoulda got more to eat for lunch.”
“You'll have more room for ceviche now.”
“If I don't drop out of the sky from hunger first.”
Scrim stuck his tongue out at her. “We can get a pretzel or something if Danny's still there, if that won't spoil your appetite.”
“It’s too bad there aren’t any pasture grasses nearby and all the leaves taste bad.” She sighed. “I'll be fine, I can wait until we get to Junior's. It's only a couple of miles.”
“We'll stash our stuff on top of the apartments over there. The ones that straddle the highway.”
“Sounds good.”
•••
It was an easy flight.
They landed on the roof of the apartment closest to the river. There was a water tank hidden behind a wall, and the roof of the water tank was the perfect place to strip off their equipment and leave it where it wouldn't be bothered. Maybe the pigeons would peck at it, but there was nothing that they could fly off with, and it would take a lot of work for a person to get up there.
Junior's was an easy glide away—they could see the blue awning from their perch—and they arrived after the bulk of the dinner crowd had already eaten.
Cammy ordered their food, while Scrim flew across the street to the liquor store to buy them a nightcap. The two met back up on the west side of Broadway and took to the air again.
There was no reason to follow the highway to get to the bridge, but no reason not to, so they did. The landed on the western tower, disturbing a crowd of pigeons and seagulls, but they paid them no mind.
After setting their food down, Cammy flew to the southern edge and peered down the tower at the lighthouse below. “Seems funny that the lighthouse is so short.”
“They built it before they built the bridge, remember.”
“They should have put it on top of the bridge once they'd finished the towers.”
“It'd look silly,” Scrim said. “Even if it would fit. Come on, we should eat before the seagulls get our food.”
“You're right.” Cammy dropped back down to the top of the tower. “I like how open these towers are. You can see almost everything through the girders.”
•••
The two of them stayed on the top of the bridge and relaxed once they'd finished dinner. They sipped at their nightcap—a plastic bottle of cheap brandy—and watched the sun set over New Jersey before finally taking flight again.
After a brief stop to reclaim their equipment, they angled northeast, following the Harlem River until it curved towards the Hudson; they turned the opposite way, towards their brownstone apartment.
Author's Note
https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/869870/story-notes-labor-day-plus-a-challenge-to-readers
