Equestrian Cleanup Detail

by Quijex

Rating: mature
Tags: Comedy, Slice of Life, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Original Character
Length: 6445

Bubble holds the prestigious title of the only pony to work for an entirely demon-run company, and the not-so prestigious title of cleaning up their messes, whether it be a coffee spill or the mangled remains of whoever pissed off the CEO.

Bubble isn't picky about jobs. Every job has purpose, and every career has value. From the mundane but vital garbageponies to the brave and valorant Royal Guard, all ponies serve their communities one way or another!

Still, maybe she would've had a few more reservations about being a janitor if she had known she'd be working for demons.

Published 2024-07-05 12:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-07-08 22:49:42 UTC

The Interview

"Bubble, you're worrying over nothing. All they're looking for in a janitor is the ability to hold a mop and follow basic instructions," Thyme insisted.

"You're being reductive!" Bubble retorted from the bedroom, "Janitors need a keen eye for detail, a strong memory, and-"

"Punctuality?"

"Yeah!"

Thyme glanced at the clock hanging above the doorway from her spot on the couch, "If you really think this interview is gonna be that hard, not being late for it is a good start."

"Wait, WHAT?" Bubble burst out of the bedroom with a egregiously colored and poorly knotted tie hanging from her neck. A quick glance at the clock revealed her worst fear. "Only 5 minutes!? But I haven't finished my flashcards! Or my list of strengths and weaknesses! Or three words I'd use to describe myself!"

Thyme rolled her eyes as she got off the couch and looked Bubble over. The dark green tie with bright yellow polkadots was bad enough because of how it clashed with Bubble's white coat and pink mane, but the unicorn hadn't even tied it correctly!

"Maybe you should be a bit more concerned with not looking like a clown that broke out of fashion jail."

The fashion criminal's blush showed through her white fur like a lighthouse beam piercing fog, "I-It's the only tie I have, alright? Cut me some slack!"

Thyme just shook her head and sighed as her hooves undid the amateur knot, "Like I said before, they're just looking for a janitor. Whether or not you dress up fancy for it won't make that much of a difference."

The undone tie fell to the ground limply as the pegasus gave Bubble an appraising look before nodding in approval, "You look fine, Bubsy. Just get going and be yourself."

Bubble sighed, "Alright, guess I better head out now if I don't wanna be late. Wish me luck!"

Thyme waved lazily with her wing, throwing herself back on the couch. "Knock 'em dead and-" She let out a deep yawn, "-And stuff."

——————————————————————<

Bubble fidgeted restlessly. Ever since she had entered the office building, she felt as though a strange pressure was squeezing her. The cold white walls surrounding her seemed to grow ever closer. Her heart skipped every other beat. Her breathing grew laboured.

Is this what dying felt like?

Before she could dwell on that thought, a gray earth pony entered the lobby, his gait confident and calculated. His short black mane was slicked back, and his white collar and black tie combo gave him the look of a professional. His gaze locked onto her instantly, and a friendly smile spread across his muzzle. "Hey there, stranger. Are you here on business, or are you here for that opening we put in the paper?"

Bubble sat up as straight as she could, trying to ignore how the pressure seemed to intensify in the stallion's presence.

Something creaked. Bubble told herself it was just the chair, and not her bones being compressed by an unseen force.

"T-The latter, sir," She answered, despite her throat constricting involuntarily, "I saw you were looking for a janitor?"

The stallion's smile grew into a toothy grin upon hearing that.

Were those. . .fangs?

Bubble blinked.

No teeth that wouldn't be on a pony, she observed.

She was probably just imagining it from all the stress.

She was torn from her thoughts by a loud cough as the stallion cleared his throat, looking at her expectantly.

Oh Celestia, she wasn't listening! She didn't want her first impression to be an absent-minded airhead!

"Sure. . ?" She tried, hoping that was an appropriate response.

Apparently, it was.

"Wonderful! Just follow me and I'll take you to my office, then we can start your interview properly."

Bubble shakily got up from her seat and started after him, trying her hardest to ignore how much her primal instincts were screaming for her to run far, far away from this place.

As the stallion led her through the winding halls of the building, she couldn't help but wonder where all the employees were.

She voiced this to him, but he only chuckled in response before continuing to walk in silence.

——————————————————————<

Bubble gingerly closed the door behind her as the stallion — or "Dire Straits" as the nameplate on his desk read — took his seat across from her, gesturing with a hoof towards the open chair on her side of the room.

"Please take a seat, Miss. . ." He trailed off.

"Uh, Bubble. I'm Bubble."

"A pleasure. If you can't tell from the nameplate, my name is Dire Straits, and I'm the CEO here at Dire Finances. We deal out loans to those in need, as well as providing paid consultation to clients."

"So. . .like a bank?"

Dire paused, before laughing at a joke that only he seemed to get, "Sure, kid. Like a bank. But you won't need to worry about any of that. All I need to know is what hours you can work, any previous work experience, and your signature on the contract."

Bubble tilted her head in confusion, "That's it? No background check? No questionnaire?"

"Are you a criminal?"

Her eyes widened in shock, "N-No! Of course not!"

"Can you mop the floors?"

"Uh, yeah, I think."

Dire's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean 'you think'?"

Bubble took a deep breath.

C'mon, Bubble, just remember what Thyme said about being yourself. You got this!

Bubble narrowed her eyes back at Dire, and steeled herself. She had to show she had what it takes! This was her chance to be a paragon of self-confidence! An empress of self-esteem!

"Yes, I CAN mop the floors!" She proclaimed boldly, striking a pose like a pony of legend.

"Please get your hooves off my desk."

Bubble's confidence popped as she realized what she had done, sheepishly sitting back down in her seat.

Dire let out an exhausted sigh, "I'm gonna pretend like that never happened and bring us back on track. Namely, your hours and experience."

All too eager to move on from her outburst, Bubble idly tapped a hoof as her eyes drifted upwards in thought.

"Well, I don't really have much going at home besides cooking for my roommate. She gets days off on the weekend, though, so I'd like it if my schedule matched that. Making plans is easier like that."

Dire nodded and scribbled something down on a scrap of paper, "Weekends off is fine, now for your previous work experience?"

"Two years as a sanitation worker for the city, I quit that recently though because of the awful hours."

Dire scribbled something down again before looking back up, "Well, I'd certainly say you're qualified to work here. That just leaves the paperwork."

He pulled open a drawer and dropped a thick stack of sheets onto the desk.

Bubble gulped in fear.

——————————————————————<

"What on earth is a Nasdaq? Why does this keep mentioning quarters? Didn't I already read this one?"

Dire answered the last question with a barely repressed grin, "Oh, that's cause you just finished last year's version. These are the revised guidelines we're operating under now."

Bubble's jaw went slack, her eye twitching intermittently.

"If you want, I can just show you where to si-"

"Please." Bubble cut him off, her voice strained with frustration.

Dire slid out two papers from the bottom of the stack, "This one just restates what we agreed upon earlier about your schedule, as well as how you'll be paid."

Bubble gave it a cursory inspection with tired eyes, before levitating a quill and putting in a sloppy signature, "And the other?"

Dire took back the signed paper, sliding the next forward, "This one is an NDA; Non-Disclosure Agreement. Basically just says you can't spill company secrets and statistics."

Bubble was more focused on stifling an incoming yawn than reading closely into the mass of text, and blindly signed off where Dire's hoof was pointing, "Anything else?"

Dire's muzzle split into a wicked grin, and he began to cackle darkly.

"Oh, just one more thing you should know about us now that you're on the team."

The pressure that was crushing down on Bubble finally dissipated.

Then Dire's muzzle split, the flesh peeling away to form something akin to a flower, if that flower's petals were strips of banded muscle and adipose tissue, and its stamen was a cavernous esophagus. The eyes were torn from their sockets during the transformation, and fell down into its throat, piercing Bubble with their cold gaze throughout their entire descent until they were no longer visible.

With no more tendons and ligaments holding the lower mandible to the rest of the skull, it fell and lodged itself in the entrance of the throat, too large to fall through like the eyes. The thing gagged for a moment, before retching and sending the jaw clattering onto the desk.

Bubble shrieked, and her flight response worked overtime as she overturned her chair in her panicked dash for the door.

Throwing it open with her telekinesis, her escape into the hall was halted when she accidentally rammed straight into a pair of legs.

A lanky, bipedal creature froze mid-knock. There was no skin or fur covering its flayed body, and an unknown fluid dripped from its raw, exposed muscle. A pincer-shaped head leaned down towards her, the strands of connective tissue holding the two halves of the head together stretching as it did.

"Oh! You must be the new hire."

The Tour

Trapped between two abominations, Bubble did the only thing she could think of.

She curled into a ball and wailed, eyes shut painfully tight, as though the mere act of denying the monsters' existence would make them go away.

The split demon looked up from the mare, meeting the nonexistent gaze of his boss, "I take it you've dropped the glamour?" He asked, pointing to the sobbing mess on the floor with a dangling finger.

The flesh petals of what was once Dire Straits twitched and throbbed rhythmically.

"All things considered, she could've reacted worse. Kinda impressed she didn't have a heart attack like the last one."

The flesh petals briefly curled in on themselves before relaxing.

"Sure, I don't mind. Just tell me when she's finished. . ." He waved a hand vaguely at the curled up pony, "Doing that."

The petals curled again.

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I guess I can try. Pharis tells me I'm pretty good at talking with ponies.

A long tube of necrotic flesh slowly flowed out of the stamen, slithering across the floor before climbing up the wall, leaving flakes of dead tissue in its path.

Coiling around the door knob, the rope of meat abruptly grew taut, slamming the door shut.

The split demon looked back at the curled up mare, noticing that the viscous fluid he had been excreting had already started to soak into her fur.

"This might take a while."

——————————————————————<

Drip.

Bubble never thought that sound be so terrifying. It was just the sound of liquid falling and hitting something. Nothing awful about that!

Drip.

But it wasn't the sound itself that scared her, it was what the sound implied.

Drip.

The dripping came from the monster. If she could hear one, it meant the other was near.

Drip.

A stray droplet landed on her back, soaking the fur.

So very near.

"Hey, pony. Can you look at me?"

The fact that it could speak didn't surprise her. The thing that called itself Dire Straits could speak too. It put on a skinsuit so she wouldn't realize the truth until it was too late.

"Be not afraid!"

She wished she didn't have to listen to it, that she could cover her ears and block out the sound, but her forelegs were busy covering her eyes in case the beast tried to pry them open.

"You gotta give me something to work with here, pony, I still need to finish that quarterly report. Can't spend all day playing therapist for you."

It felt surreal, how normal the voice sounded. It would be so easy to pretend like this was all just a bad dream. Just a-

"WAKE UP! YOU'RE HAVING A NIGHTMARE!"

Bubble's eyes shot open out of reflex, and she lifted her head from her hooves.

Only to come face-to-half-of-a-face with the monster.

"Wow, that actually worked?"

Bubble screamed, frantically backing up until she was against the wall. Her eyes remained wide-open despite her best efforts, locked onto the monster out of pure fear.

"Well, at least you're looking at me. That's progress, right?"

Bubble knew she had a few more pressing things to be worried about, but she couldn't help but wonder how it was speaking to her without a visible mouth.

"So! Now that I have your attention, let's do one of your pony rituals. The one where we each say our name. Ready?"

Bubble choked back a sob.

"Great! My name is Schisma."

Bubble managed to tear her gaze away from the monster, cautiously peering down the hall to see if there were any more of them coming.

She froze up as a hand clutched her head and forcibly turned it back to the monster, whose beady black eyes were staring at her.

"This is the part where you tell me your name."

Bubble gulped. She hated the idea of speaking to this thing, but she was even more scared of making it angry. Her will eventually cracked under the pressure of the monster's many-eyed stare, and she stuttered out an answer, "B-B-Bubble."

"Well, Bubble, allow me to be the first to welcome you to the team! We don't hire many ponies, you know, so it's really quite a big deal that you decided to join us."

"W-What?"

". . .What do you mean, 'what'? You signed the contracts, right? That means you work here now."

Though Bubble was still terrified, her growing confusion at the situation in general granted her to confidence to keep talking.

"B-But you're all monsters, o-or demons! That was like, me signing away my soul, right? The job was just to lure me in!"

Schisma tilted his heads, causing the halves to connect together with a moist thud, "Mf. . .mmfm m fnfmfmm."

"What?"

Schisma unconnected his heads, snapping strings of connective tissue as he pried the two halves apart, "Ugh, hate it when that happens. Anyways, yes, yes, and no. Yes, we are monsters and demons. Yes, you did sign away your soul. But no, the job wasn't a lure. We really do need a janitor."

Bubble started hyperventilating as she took in that information, "M-My soul! I lost my soul! What's gonna happen to me? Am I gonna die!?"

"Beats me, my contract was probably different than yours," Schisma shrugged, before putting a hand to one of his chins in thought, "Wait, did you sign the NDA?"

Bubble nodded.

Schisma snapped a finger in realization, "Ah, so you only conditionally lost your soul!"

"So. . .what does that mean for me?" Bubble asked, a faint tinge of hope in her voice.

"It means as long as you don't violate the NDA, your soul is yours to keep."

"That's. . .good? I think. Wait, is all this a-"

"Company secret? Yes. Just a little precaution so you don't tattle on us to the princesses. But you wouldn't do that. . ." his tone turned dangerous, and his voice morphed to a shaky warble, "Would you?"

Bubble shook her head frantically, "N-No! N-Never! I swear!"

"Good! Now, anymore questions before the grand tour?"

"Grand tour? Wait, were you serious before? Am I really just gonna be a janitor?"

Schisma almost tilted his head in confusion again, but caught himself before he repeated his mistake, opting instead for a puzzled glance, "Yeah, of course. Why would we hire a janitor if we didn't need one?"

Bubble opened her mouth to reply, but found herself speechless before Schisma's blunt logic.

"Anyways," Schisma turned to the end of the hall, "Our first stop is the cubicle room! Most of your coworkers have already clocked out by now, so we won't be disrupting anything."

Schisma started leisurely walking through the hall. Bubble didn't really want to follow him, but the alternative was. . .

She looked back at the door to the CEO's office and shivered at the memory of seeing a pony unpeel itself before her very eyes.

She trotted after Schisma, making the easy decision to pick the lesser of two evils.

——————————————————————<

Bubble was slowly getting used to Schisma's presence.

She wasn't so sure if that was a good thing.

Nonetheless, his lax pace and casual way of speaking took away at least some of the horror in her situation, even if she still couldn't bear looking at him for too long.

What she wasn't getting used to, though, was just how normal everything was. The place was occupied by demons, but there was an astonishing lack of torture devices and pools of lava. Just desks, files, and a water cooler.

Schisma must've noticed her looking around the room, and tapped her forehead to get her attention, "Looking for something? The bathroom is back in the hall."

Bubble shivered involuntarily at his touch, making a mental note to take a very thorough bath once she got home.

"Uh, no, that's not it. I was thinking of how normal this all is. Like, it doesn't look like somewhere demons would work."

He nodded in understanding, "I take it you don't know much about how demon society works?"

Bubble shook her head.

Schisma clapped his hands together, "Right! I'll give you a quick lesson before we continue the tour. If you're gonna be working with us, you should probably know some of this."

He pulled a chair from a nearby desk and took a seat, "I guess the first thing to know is that us demons are split into seven main categories, Wrath, Gluttony, Sloth, Lust, Greed, Envy, and Pride. For example, our CEO is a Greed Demon, and I'm a Sloth Demon."

Bubble tilted her head curiously, "I can get that, but shouldn't demons be corrupting mortals and stuff, instead of running a business?"

Schisma shrugged, "Not necessarily. We demons sustain ourselves with demonic energy, which is usually produced by corrupting mortals to act within our domain. But corruption is a pretty dangerous gig, since exorcism is the closest thing to death for us."

"So if you're not getting energy by corrupting mortals, where are you getting it from?"

"Let me answer your question with one of my own: What do you think the CEO pays us with?"

Bubble mulled the question over for a second before her eyes lit up in understanding, "Wait, isn't sharing kind of the opposite of greed?"

Schisma stood up from his chair and casually slid it back to the desk he took it from, "Most Greed Demons are greedy, sure, but they also have a good business sense. If he hired ponies instead, he'd have to spend a lot more demonic energy maintaining his glamour."

She was about to ask what a 'glamour' was, but Schisma was already walking to another room. She hastily caught up with him just as he stopped at a door in the hallway to the lobby.

"This is the janitor's office," Schism explained as he opened the door, revealing a small room with a desk, chair, and a shelf of familiar cleaning products, "We've got some basic supplies here, but if you need something else you'll have to buy it yourself or run it by the boss."

Bubble couldn't help but notice the lack of any PPE or uniform, "I'm guessing I'll need to provide my own hoof covers?"

"Probably. The office isn't very pony-friendly. Like I said, though, I can take you back to the boss and see if we can order something for you."

She shook her head immediately, "N-No, don't worry about it! I still have my old stuff I can use! No need to talk to the boss," She assured.

"If you say so. Anyways, that about wraps up the-" Schisma's eyes widened, "I almost forgot to show you the devourer!"

Bubble froze, ". . .The what?"

Schisma was already moving out of the room, beelining for a red door besides the cubicle room's entrance as Bubble trailed behind, "The devourer!" He repeated, "We don't want the city investigating any. . .unusual organic residue in our trash, so we get rid of it our own way."

"How do you get rid of it?" Bubble asked, though she felt as though she really didn't want to know the answer.

Schisma threw the door open, revealing a seemingly endless tunnel of pulsating peristaltic flesh. Digestive fluid pooled at the bottom, forming acidic puddles that were occasionally disturbed by the wave-like motions of the muscles.

"Remember how I said that most of your coworkers clocked out already? This is the exception," Schisma explained, ignorant to how Bubble was rapidly backpedaling away, "It's a Gluttony Demon we contracted to work for us. Any trash you clean up should get fed to it."

Just standing near the devourer was like standing on the very edge of a cliff. Bubble knew that she was technically safe, that the thing couldn't move, but being so close to it was still a nerve-wracking experience.

"A-Anything else?" She asked, trying not to think about how easy it would be to accidentally trip and fall right into the opening.

"Just one more thing. Most of us demons have a weird interaction with pony magic. It's kinda hard to explain, so try and hit me with magic."

"Just any magic?"

"Sure, try and lift me with your telekinesis or something."

Bubble obliged, and her horn lit up with a translucent red glow, one that also faded into existence around Schisma.

She knew her magic wasnt near strong enough to lift him, but she tried anyway.

Her body slumped to the ground as soon as she did, and her heart started beating slower and slower.

She took a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

Her eyes started flickering shut as she struggled to stay awake.

A few moments later, she lost the struggle, and dozed off, her magic fading with her consciousness

"WAKE UP!"

Bubble screamed as she shot up to all fours, "W-What? What happened?"

"That," Schisma answered, "Was how pony magic reacts to a Sloth Demon's energy."

Bubble was still blinking some spots away from her eyes, "It makes me tired? I mean, I guess that makes sense, but why do I need to know that?"

"You won't just be picking up loose papers and cleaning up spills here, you'll also be expected to clean up any demonic messes. Like my secretions, or Vulcan's moulted feathers. You'll get the same kind of reaction if you try to levitate or use a cleaning spell on stuff like that."

Bubble didn't even bother asking who Vulcan was, in fear of getting another demonstration to something she'd be having nightmares about tonight.

"Okay, so magic is fine for normal messes, but demonic stuff I have to clean manually?" She asked.

"Pretty much. I can't really think of anything else you'd need to know. If that's all your questions answered, I'm about to clock out myself."

Bubble did have many more questions, but she had learned to keep her mouth shut before she learned something she'd never forget.

"I think I'll be fine, when do I start?"

"Don't ask me, you left your contract with the Qliphoth."

Bubble tilted her head, "The Qliphoth?"

"Oh! That's right, you never learned his true name. The Qliphoth is the CEO."

Bubble's blood ran cold, "D-Do you think you could get them for me?"

Schisma was already walking away, "Just get it over with!" He called out as red runic symbols etched themselves into the floor below him, "You'll need to get used to him eventually, he's your boss!"

With a parting wave, the runes flared up in a blinding red light, causing Bubble to squint her eyes in response.

And then he was gone, with nothing but the stains of his secretions serving as proof of his existence.

Bubble slowly looked around the room, there was nopony there except for her, the empty desks, and-

Oh, right. The devourer.

Bubble's magic slowly closed the red door, blocking the meat tunnel from sight.

Author's Note

Hey folks, glad to say that the exposition dumps are now OVER! (mostly)

The hard-core janitorial action will be coming soon.

Rest and Respite

Bubble stood in front of the door to the CEO's office, trying to muster up the courage to knock.

Come on, Bubble! In and out, all you gotta do is get that contract, then you can go home and cry yourself to sleep. Just gotta knock.

She raised a hoof to the door. . .

. . .and lowered it.

Maybe now is a bad time. The boss is probably busy doing. . .demon things. I could slip a letter under the door, asking him to mail it to me? Wait, I don't want that thing to know my address!

She was broken from her thoughts when a flaking tendril slipped under the door and tapped her muzzle.

Bubble's heart rate skyrocketed as it retreated back through the door.

A few moments passed, but she didn't dare move.

She felt like she just brushed against Death itself.

How long did it know I was here? Why now? Is it getting impatient?

The thought of earning that thing's ire by loitering in front of its office was enough to jolt her into action.

She slowly pushed open the door, the tension in the air not helped by the incessant creaking of the wood.

"M-Mister Straits? Or do y-you prefer Qliphoth?"

Vine-like tendrils were spread throughout the room, crawling across the floor and climbing the walls, each leaving their own trail of necrotic flakes.

Her eyes traced the vines to their source, but they disappeared behind the desk.

Multiple spires of bones loosely bound together with ligaments stood tall behind that same desk. Flaps of skin covered in brown fur hung from the spires in pairs, thick tendons attaching them firmly to the bone stems.

In the middle of the macabre flowerbed stood the same peeled monstrosity that Bubble had ran away from earlier, softly swaying to a breeze she couldn't feel.

Bubble's body refused to take another step. The idea of willingly getting closer to that thing wasn't just a bad idea, it was a logical impossibility. Inconceivable to her rational and primal minds.

One of the vines fell from the wall, landing with a quiet crunch.

It slithered to the main host of the flowerbed, climbing up the esophagus fused to the mat of meat.

It slipped down into the cavernous throat, its length shortening as it fell, before eventually growing taut. If it wasn't anchored to the mass of flesh on the ground, it likely would have never stopped descending.

The bed of meat started writhing, convulsing as the flower host ceased its gentle swaying.

The tendril started retracting at an unnatural speed, before it emerged from the maw wrapped around a rolled-up paper.

The swaying resumed, and the tendril unceremoniously tossed the contract at Bubble, the paper landing a short distance from her.

The tendril fell limp, all movement in the room ceased except for the flower's swaying.

Bubble shakily let out a breath of. . .not quite relief, but of released tension.

She tried to offer a 'thank you' to it, but no words came out.

She grabbed the contract with her magic and exited the room at a pace just short of a sprint.

——————————————————————<

Bubble had to take a moment to adjust as she stepped out of the building onto the busy streets. The morning rush was nearing its end, café owners were taking well-needed breaks outside their stores, and hawkers for the Manehatten Times were shouting their prices.

All in all, it was a perfectly average day. And that scared Bubble.

How long were the demons working here for?

How long were they hiding in plain sight?

She passed by a hawker on her way back home.

The colt had a coat the color of ash, matching well with the gray cap he tipped at her, "Mornin' miss! Bit for the paper?"

She levitated a bit from her saddlebags to the colt's own. The colt said something to her, likely thanking her for her patronage, but her mind was elsewhere. Bubble took the paper, scanning the front page as she walked.

'Governor Hard Knock to raise taxes!'

'Debates over new Welfare ordinance to continue Saturday!'

'Crime rates fall! Manehatten runner-up for safest Equestrian city!'

The average pony would be comforted by dull headlines like these, especially the last one.

Bubble only felt a gnawing sense of dread.

She crumpled the paper up and threw it in a nearby trash bin.

Were there more places like that in Manehatten? In Equestria?

She dismissed the ominous question as soon as it arose. She didn't want to know.

——————————————————————<

Bubble let out an exhausted sigh as she pushed open the door to her apartment.

Well, their apartment. But Thyme was likely catching up on the sleep she missed during yesterday's night shift, leaving everywhere but the bedroom to Bubble.

Maybe it's for the best, it's not like I can explain why I'm such a mess after a measly interview. She noted to herself as she opened the fridge, casually throwing her contract onto the counter.

We should have some leftovers in here from last night. I think there should be a sandwich left.

Exactly like Bubble thought, there was indeed a sandwich.

Bubble grew a small smile despite how horrific her day was. Sometimes you just have to take the little victories.

With a contented hum, she took the sandwich in her magic and took a seat on the couch. Normally she'd get on Thyme's case for doing exactly this, but she earned this, damn it!

As she ate, she couldn't help but notice the dark stains in her previously white fur, shuddering slightly as she thought about just how much of the secretion had soaked in.

Food can wait, I gotta get this stuff out of my coat. She decided as she got up, putting the half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table in front of the couch.

The walk to the bathroom was short, on account of how small their apartment was. The terrible housing market of Manehatten had a lot to do with that, but she and Thyme had gotten used to it.

She slowly shut the door behind her, trying not to make too much noise. She hadn't seen her when she walked in, so Bubble was willing to bet her roommate was sleeping the day away in the bedroom.

Maybe her discretion was a bit pointless, considering she was about to risk waking her up anyways by running the bath, but it's the thought that counts, right? Besides, it'd just be a quick wash. She'd be in and out before Thyme noticed.

——————————————————————<

An hour had passed, and Bubble was getting desperate.

"Come ON!" She squeezed another dollop of shampoo onto the sponge before furiously rubbing it into her coat.

After 45 straight minutes of cleaning and an ungodly amount of shampoo, the last stain finally gave way to Bubble's soapy onslaught, fading away until her coat was back to a pure white.

It had been a hard-fought war, with many strained screams of frustration, but she finally emerged victorious!

She let out a sigh of relief and crawled out of the bath, her horn lighting up as a drying spell wicked away the moisture from her fur.

She pulled the bathroom door open, only to be met with an unamused and very tired Thyme on the other side.

"Enjoy your bath, Bubble?" Thyme asked, her tone sickly sweet yet still sharper than a knife.

The pegasus' eyes were slightly bloodshot, and her black feathers were both literally and metaphorically ruffled at the interruption of her rest.

Bubble shrunk under her gaze, "Oh, Thyme! I, uh, wasn't trying to wake you. I thought I was being quiet, I swear!"

Thyme nodded along, "Right, which is why you quietly cleaned yourself at a reasonable pace, without doing something silly like — oh, I don't know — shouting loud enough to wake a sleeping ursa."

Bubble laughed nervously, "Y-Yep! Anyways, it was good to see ya, but you should probably go back to sleep. Need your rest and all that, right?"

Thyme scowled, and for a moment, Bubble could've sworn the room just dropped a few degrees.

"Don't you have some supplies to get for your new job, Bubble?"

"I. . .don't think so? I mean, they had all the important stuff," she answered, caught off guard by the sudden non-sequitur.

"No, I really think you should go out shopping for a bit. Preferably until I've gotten more than a couple hours of sleep."

"That's an odd time frame, but I'm still pretty sure I won't need to buy any-"

"Bubble, if you don't leave me to my sleep in the next ten seconds, I'm going to break something."

——————————————————————<

Bubble marched along the store's shelves, eyeing each product like a general inspecting his troops. She had been. . .distracted during her tour of the office, so she wasn't paying attention to things like the flooring and general environment.

And now? She was paying for those mistakes.

Wait, was the floor hardwood or tiled?

She looked back and forth from a string and sponge mop.

On one hoof, the string mop would be able to get in between the cracks of a tiled floor, but would also risk leaving an unprotected hardwood floor with more moisture than it could dry, leaving the rest to seep into the porous wood.

On the other hoof, the sponge mop was far better at cleaning up typical office spills and was more suited for not leaving hardwood with too much moisture. It was, however, absolutely terrible when it came to cleaning tiles, often leaving them even more dirty than they were before they had been mopped.

After a few more seconds of internal debate, she decided to just get the both of them. Her old string mop was probably due for a replacement anyways.

Alright, I've got mops for the floor, now what about soap?

She knew she had more than enough vinegar at home. Sure, vinegar was acidic and weakens the protective sealants on the wood, but she can always just apply more coats before the damage got too bad.

But if the floors were tiled, specifically something natural like marble, she'd definitely need something with a neutral pH if she didn't want to literally dissolve it. Mild dish soap would work fine in that case.

She considered buying a broom as she took her haul back to the shopkeeper, but the one she kept around the apartment wasn't really in need of a replacement just yet.

She couldn't keep a small smile off her muzzle as she checked out her new supplies at the register.

Despite everything, it still felt good to be back in the swing of things. Bubble was damn good at cleaning and proud of it, and no amount of demons could ever change that.

——————————————————————<

The door shut behind Bubble softly, the latter of which was making extra sure to keep to the carpeted areas of the floor.

Her horn glowed softly as her contract floated to her from the counter. Her eyes scanned the contents, glazing past the legal jargon to focus purely on the practical details.

Let's see here. . .hours are nine to five, responsible for maintaining a clean and safe environment in the workplace, blah blah bl- wait, 'responsible for disposing of disciplined employees'? What does that even mean?

. . .Eh, probably just a typo or something.

She set the contract back down on the counter as she maneuvered her way through the apartment. She had made sure to stay quiet before, but now that she was at the door to the bedroom, she had essentially become a phantom with how little noise she was making.

The door was pushed open at a snail's pace, revealing the room she and her roommate shared. A window faced the street with the curtains pulled tight to block the dim evening light from spilling into the room.

Two beds were placed on each end of the sparsely decorated room, each with their own nightstand and alarm clock.

Bubble spied Thyme's peacefully sleeping form on the farthest bed from the window. A thick cotton blanket was pulled over her entire body, serving as the last line of defense against the daylight that threatened her sleep.

Bubble softly made her way to her own bed, climbing it and nestling under her comparatively lightweight covers. A glance at the clock on her nightstand as she set her alarm told her it was only 6 P.M.

Normally she wouldn't go to bed this early, but the day had drained her more than she thought.

Her eyes flickered shut, and her mind drifted to sleep.

. . .For about 3 hours.

RING

Her eyes shot open.

RING

She heard muffled curses from the other side of the room.

R-

And then a loud crash.

"You didn't-" Bubble paused to let out a yawn, "-Break another clock, did you?"

The only response she got was Thyme's tired grumbling as the pegasus dug through her nightstand's drawer for her badge.

"Have fun," she mumbled as she tried to force herself back to sleep.

"Fun? I sit in an empty store all night looking for thieves. If I'm having fun, something probably went very wrong."

"Fine, then be miserable."

Thyme snorted, "You too, Miss Maid."

Bubble rolled over in her bed to glare at her, "Call me that again and I'll go back to making time puns."

Thyme turned away and trotted out of the room, hiding the glimmer of fear that flashed across her eyes at the mention of the verbal abuse Bubble called 'puns'.

With her roommate working, Bubble was now well and truly alone.

Her eyes flickered shut, and her mind drifted to sleep.

. . .For real this time.

Author's Note

This chapter was actually meant to come out yesterday, if it weren't for a surprise invite to my neighbor's grad party. They did have a pool table, though!