The Setting Sun

     Cheryl Shelly wiped her brow.

     The Altador Cup finals this year had been a roaring success. The competition was as fierce as it had ever been, and the fiery determination of each contender was only intensified by the intensity of the ardent fans in the wings. The resounding alarm that had announced the final goal to the world had thrown the crowd into a frenzied cacophony strong enough to shake the very foundations of the colosseum. Tears were shed, songs were sung, and victorious cheers and chants filled the air like the smoke of an uncontrollable flame, consuming everything in its ravenous maw.

     And then they were gone.

     All but her, of course.

     The demand for slushies had been especially strong today, even compared to most historical finals. Temperatures had been record-breakingly high during the match, and even as the sun slowly made its way to the horizon, Cheryl dreamt of a cold shower and a relaxing book. She knew just the one – Neopian Orchestral Classics, a lengthy tome she’d received as a gift a few months prior. The lengthy tome was comprised not only of beautiful orchestral classics, but also of their history and that of their storied composer. As she fantasised about submerging herself into literary paradise, her hands glided effortlessly over the slushie machines, slowly and methodically preparing them to be decommissioned for another year, as she had done so many times before. So engrossed was she in her task, she failed to notice the teenagers encroaching upon her stall, and jumped when one spoke to her.

     "Oi, lady! We're gettin’ all hot 'n droopy over 'ere! Why don’t you be a proper diamond and make us summa' them Jumbleberry slushies, eh?"

     The waitress turned around just in time to catch the stray Neopoints being slung towards her on the counter. It was a group of three individuals; a Peophin, an Orgin, and the Hissi who had just placed an order. She smiled apologetically, sliding the coins back at the glaring newcomers.

     "Sorry, kids, the slushie machines are just about packed up. Exquisite Ambrosia should still be open if you need a pick-me-up, though! The fig ice cream is simply divine, and I can also recommend the-"

     "But we don't want no stinkin' brochure!" the Peophin snarled, "Just turn the machine back on, then! Ain't that hard, yeah? Button’s right there and all. We're payin' you, you know?"

     He slammed the Neopoints on the counter again. The Tuskaninny regarded him steadily, not taking her eyes off of his as the Ogrin weighed in on the situation.

     “Yeah, it’s just a wee favour!” she piped up indignantly, “You think you’re too good for us or somethin’, lady?”

     "Believe me, I would if I could, but trust me when I say that the amount of time it'd take to do that would be f-"

     "If the lady says no, that means NO!" came a roar in the distance.

     Everyone turned to face the source of the outburst. It was an Orange Yurble, clad in a green robe, wielding a mop held high like a soldier's spear, running manically at the group as his bucket splashed water onto the stones beneath it with each step.

     "Oh no, not him again!" the Ogrin wailed, the despair of recognition evident in her voice.

     "AARGHH! You kids better get out of here before I LOSE MY MIND!"

     The teenagers bolted, leaving their Neopoints behind as they vacated the premises as fast as physically possible. The janitor shook his fist at the retreating ruffians, huffing as they faded from his sight.

     "Hate those trespassing hooligans. Not the first time I’ve had to deal with ‘em causing mayhem. 'No' is never enough for them, no – too cool for the rules, are we? Too special to give a Mynci's behind about anyone else, eh? Bah! One of these days I oughta give ‘em a real what for to straighten ‘em out, since it don’t seem like their parents are doing any good in that department!" he snarled, wringing the mop into his bucket.

     "And to top it all off, they certainly would have left an awful mess, too!”

     Cheryl laughed, the buildup of stress fading away as quickly as it had come.

     "I do appreciate it – really, I do – but they're just kids, you know? They'll grow out of it in time. There’s no need to condemn them. Why, I recall hearing about a certain someone who loved to throw rowdy parties after Sticks 'N Stones concerts back in his day," she grinned, adding a sly wink.

     The janitor blushed, staring very hard at his mop as he got to work on a slushie-spawned stain on the outside of the stall. How did she know about that? Had that foolhardy Practice Team goalie run his stupid mouth to the entire staff again? Had some old ‘friend’ from his chef days showed up to ruin his reputation? Perhaps he’d need to find another job to escape his past catching up to him yet again? He’d have to find out later, but first..

     "...Yeah, alright, but that still don't give them the right to treat you that way."

     She giggled, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.

     "Well, I'm glad you're around."

     The Yurble tried to focus on the task at hand, wringing his mop out once again as he finished removing one festering stain and moved on to the next one. Try as he might, however, the warm feeling spreading from his chest infused him with a giddy feeling, and he failed to prevent the faintest glimmer of a smile gracing his lips for the first time in a long time.

     It occurred to him that he should say something – anything – but no words seemed to quite capture what he wanted to convey. He finished his work in silence and stepped back to survey the stall. The metal stall glimmered radiantly, brilliantly reflecting the setting sun’s rays as if it were brand new. He nodded to the waitress, who nodded back appreciatively as she admired his handiwork.

     "Thank you. If there’s one person I can rely on around here, it’s you."

     Once again the janitor tried, and once again the janitor failed, to come up with a suitable response.

     "Just doing my job," the Yurble replied after a long while, picking up his weathered tools of the trade as he made his way back to the colosseum, mumbling something that Cheryl could not quite make out as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

     Her gaze lingered on him for a moment as he faded into the storied steps of the ancient acropolis as she stood there, lost in thought. After a long pause, she turned to face the slushie machines, slowly and methodically preparing them to be decommissioned for another year, as she had done so many times before.

     The End.