Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

An Entry in the +Whacko Blogs make life exciting contest.

It was a slow day, quiet, almost too quiet. My partner and I were doing our rounds. In the air was a dread, a malingering, ominous sense of doom, oppressive, and tangible. Every corner held a nightmare of potential disaster. Every turn was empty, and silent as a tomb.

My partner and I didn't speak, the sounds would have seemed unnatural in the overwhelming feeling of ruin. Plus, my partner is a dog, so he can be hard to understand during the best of times. This was not the best of times. This almost felt like the end of times.

That is when the call came through. "hey, there, we need paper towels in the kitchen." It was like a bell tolling. It was like the sound of an approaching tornado. It was like the sound your light makes when it is distinguished for the last time, and you shed this mortal coil, and join the choir invisible.

I looked at my partner, who stopped scratching his ear, and looked back. "Cover me while I make a break for the janitor's closet."

He gave me the look that said, "I understand," and laid down to provide suppressive cover fire if things got ugly. And if you had ever been foolish enough to step into our janitor's closet you would know things were going to get hideous. I mean gawd awful, just disgusting, intensely distasteful.

Several years ago we lost our janitor to an accident. One of our deep space explorations came back after a long journey, almost 7 months. The passengers thought since they were astronauts, scientists, and engineers they didn't have to do dishes, or clean the bathroom. When we accidentally asked our janitor to go clean the capsule he quit, cursing all of us as he walked away. It was a tragic accident.

Anyway, since then we have not had anybody to clean anything, least of all the janitor's closet.

I managed to get, grab the roll of paper towels, and dart out without inhaling. We rushed the supplies up the 7th floor kitchen area, 62 steps in all. and narrowly averted a disaster of dripping hands, and spotted floors.

Unfortunately, I forgot to start breathing again, and had to be rushed to the hospital. I ran into our old janitor, he was an orderly now. He got married and had two children, and is working his way through school to become an accountant. It was nice to see him again. It is always nice to know people don't hate you anymore.