"...and when I came back, it was like this!" Time Turner declared, spinning in a circle and gesturing around the looted store. Ditzy and Dinky stood at the entrance. Ditzy was looking extremely upset, both eyes wandering around the wreckage. Dinky was fidgeting beside her. Turner could tell that she was itching to start cleaning up the mess.

The one pony who remained calm was Phillip, who had been summoned by Turner right after his family. He coolly turned on the spot, taking in every detail.

"Keep calm, Turner," he said in an even voice. "Do you remember who you had as customers today?"

"Y-Yes, in fact," Turner stammered, bustling over to the main counter. He pulled out a thick notebook and flipped it open. "I keep a log of all my customers every day. Here, here's today's." He carefully pulled out a sheet with his mouth and gave it to Phillip. The sheet listed descriptions of customers and names if applicable, what they did, what they touched, and what they purchased. Phil looked over the list, then pocketed it. That's when he noticed something on the worktable. "What's that pocketwatch?"

Turner blinked in surprise. "Great whickering stallions, I completely forgot about that! Somepony brought that in to be repaired." He strode over to the table and pocketed the watch. "I might as well take care of it for him."

"Fine," Phil said, placing his loupe glasses on his snout. "Now, could you all please leave for a while?"

Turner hesitated, looking around his beloved shop, at the wreckage it contained. "I will find who did this, mate," Phillip promised, laying a hoof on his friend's shoulder. Turner swallowed and nodded, managing a weak smile as he turned and exited with his family.

"Aw, cheer up, muffins!" Ditzy said, a bright grin replacing her formerly forlorn features as she put a wing around her still frowning husband and daughter. "It's not so bad. We can replace the clocks and once we repair the shop, everything will be good as new!"

"This is terrible!" Turner declared. "I'm going to have to get a security system, completely reorganize the shop, purchase new locks..."

There was a ticking sound next to his ear. Turning, he saw his old pocketwatch floating next to his ear in a golden magical aura. The mechanical rhythm and the regular swinging motion soothed him.

"Calm down, dad," Dinky said, holding the watch in her magic.

Turner took a breath. "You're both right. I just need to think this through. There is a solution." His eyes suddenly lit up. "I've got it! I could invent the perfect burglar system! Nopony will be able to break into a home with the new Turner security system!" With an enthusiastic grin on his face, Turner sprinted towards home. Ditzy followed, a pleased smile on her face.

Dinky shook her head slowly. "I'll get the first aid kit out," she sighed, following her parents at a more languid pace.

A few hours later, a patched up TIme Turner was carried into his home by his distressed wife. "I just don't know what went wrong!" he groaned.

"It's okay, sweetie," Ditzy said, patting his shoulder as she guided him to his study. "You can always try again tomorrow. Let me get you some tea!" She bustled back to the kitchen. Behind her, DInky sighed and went to get the broom and dustpan from the closet.

Alone in his study with his collection of perfectly synchronized clocks, Turner's thoughts turned once again to the pocketwatch. Placing it on his desk, he opened up the back once more, moving a tabletop magnifier over it to examine the detail more closely. Again, the mysterious device attracted his attention. He examined the additional piece more closely. It reminded him a little of an alarm: it seemed to be connected to the watch mechanism in such a way that at a certain time, it would...what? What was it supposed to do? Why had it been added and by whom? Its original owner?

First, he had to repair the watch itself, then he could see for himself. Pulling out a small toolbox from it's place in the bottom right drawer, he opened it up, his hoof hovering over the collection of equipment within momentarily before selecting an oiler to clean out the grease-covered gears. He barely noticed the tinkling of china from the kitchen, or when Derpy brought in a cup of tea with extra milk and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

It was only when darkness began to fall and he started yawning that he decided to pack it in for the night. Much as he hated to leave a job unfinished and as curious as he was about the extra mechanism, it was 8:30, time for sleep. Replacing the pocketwatch's back and putting it in his desk drawer, he left the study and headed up to the bathroom. Brush, floss, gargle and brush, and then it was off to bed. Placing himself beneath the covers, he curled up next to Ditzy, who was already asleep.

As he took her in his forelegs, a feeling of relief overtook him. He really was overreacting. It was a simple burglary, nothing more. And perhaps the extra piece was just from a model of clock that he was unfamiliar with. He smiled to himself. Everything was going to be all right in the morning...

Around two in the morning, Dinky woke up. Her eyes focused on the night light next to her bed, which cast a pale white glow through her room, gently illuminating her perfectly organized plushies and books. With a frustrated sigh, she rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, her body had other plans. Her throat became dry and itchy, desperately crying out for water. Groaning, she got up out of bed and trotted out to the kitchen, lighting up her horn to guide the way.

Taking a glass from the cabinet, she rinsed it out a few times—there could be germs in there, after all—dried it out with a washcloth and filled it with water. She gulped down the drink, savoring every drop. Then she replaced the glass, washed her hooves—again, germs—then started to trot back to bed.

But as she passed the living room, she saw motion out of the corner of her eye. With a soft gasp, she withdrew back behind the corner, dousing her horn. Slowly, she peeked out past the corner.

There was a shape in the living room, dark against dark. It was a hooded figure, slowly panning a light back and forth as it searched through a cabinet. As if alerted by a sixth sense, the figure suddenly looked up, pointing its light towards Dinky. She withdrew and hid behind the wall. Her heart pounded in her chest, so loud that she feared it might give her away. Slowly, she backed out of the kitchen, hiding beneath the tablecloth of the dining room table. She peeked out from beneath the cloth.

Slow, quiet hoofsteps approached. The figure turned the corner, panning the light back and forth. For a moment, the light from the lamp the intruder was carrying reflected off something it was carrying in a magical grip: a sharp knife, blade three inches long.

The intruder entered the dining room, panning it's light back and forth. Dinky ducked back beneath the tablecloth as the spot of light neared the table, covering her mouth with her hoof to stifle her frantic breathing. The light hovered for a moment over the table, then moved on. Dinky slowly backed out from underneath the table, noticing the backside of the figure disappearing back into the living room. Silently, she crept out from beneath the table, through the kitchen and up towards her parents room. Opening the door with her magic, she leapt up on the bed. "Mom! Mom! Dad!" she whisper-shouted, waking her parents.

"Dinky, what's going on?" Ditzy yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"Somepony's in the house! He's got a knife!" Dinky whispered.

Instantly, both her parents were wide awake. Ditzy gathered her daughter up in her hooves, holding her close to her chest. Turner slowly got out of the bed and proceeded to the door. Gently, he nosed it open, peering down the hallway. "We have to get out of the house," he whispered. "Come on, follow me!" On tiptoe, he guided his family down the hallway towards the back door. The three were silent, save for their heavy breathing.

As they rounded a corner, a creaking sound came from the kitchen. Ditzy's tail flicked nervously.

Unfortunately, her tail struck a picture on the wall. The picture wobbled, then fell off the hanger and landed on the floor with a disproportionately loud CRASH!

Then, CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! Several more picture inexplicably fell off the wall and smashed onto the floor. The noise echoed throughout the house. For a moment, there was a terrifying silence, then the sound of hoofsteps approaching rapidly.

"Go! Go!" Turner said, bustling his family out of the house and through the back door. The family ran out into the night, running away from the house and the unknown danger within. They did not stop until they were well out of sight on a hill, panting heavily.

"What do we do now?" Dinky whimpered, still shaking.

"I don't know," Turner groaned, staring out into the dark of night that offered no comfort.

Author's Notes:

This is not good, is it?

(Note: my headcanon is that Dinky is Turner and Ditzy's birth daughter. She has inherited some of her father's OCD, which manifests as minor germaphobia. She's also far, far too familiar with her parent's close relationship with disaster.)