Beware: The Toilet Cleaner

Hey I'm the Toilet Cleaner, My Number's 1-800-Boo-Yah!-34567. Get Lost

Hello my fellow beloved human beings! This is going to be my second ever story on Wattpad, I will keep uploading parts to my other one. To those of you who might have read my other story, 'The WHY ME?! Series: Just the Beginning' I mentally blow air kisses to you. But hopefully this story will receive a lot more readers and MAYBE EVEN SOME VOTES OR COMMENTS CUZ I WOULD SO LOVE THAT! Anyways, I hope this will at least make you laugh or smile, :) Thanks! Peace out! -Mary

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Chapter 1

Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub. Oh lookie, I need more soap! "He he, ha ha." I giggled. Yeah, so here I am, scrubbing down the insides of a toilet bowl, singing show tunes mentally and giggling like the freak I am. Don't worry though, being under fluorescent lighting has that effect on me after a couple hours. Adding a bit more disinfectant soap to the toilet brush, I went back to scrubbing vigorously. I was nearly up to my elbows in soap and Comet, my hands and forearms covered by my dear friend Mr. Hideous Yellow Rubber Gloves. No matter how blindingly neon or squeaky he was he was definitely worthy of being my friend. Why I would be best friends with a pair of hideous yellow rubber gloves? Well, it was that or sticking my arms into a toilet bare, one that was used by dozens of people every day. And we've been through a ton together, from the first time we had to clean up a five-year-old's jelly bean vomit to when we had to help a pregnant woman who had gone into labor inside one of the bathroom stalls. Oh how I missed the good old days. Yet, here we were, cleaning the bathroom for the sixth time today. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I treat my best friend badly. He thought the name I gave him wasn't offending but honest and that it suited him. I even agreed to going out on a date with him once. It was a very enjoyable date, despite the fact everyone who saw us together thought I needed to go to a mental institute. So in the end Mr. Hideous Yellow Rubber Gloves and I decided we just weren't meant to be, our relationship was better as friends. To be honest I didn't even know why I decided to go on a date with my best friend, I knew it would be awkward, only I faintly remember having 17 margaritas previously before. . . . . . . . Such a shame.

Anyways, I flushed the toilet, getting rid of all the soap and bubbles. Wiping down the seat with Clorox wipes, I stepped back to admire the last of the sparkling Super Target toilets. I gotta hand it to myself, I did a pretty darn good job. Back on topic. I am not crazy. Okay, maybe a little. But it's not like I love or want to clean the bathroom of the Super Target I work in. It just came with my cashier job and after a while I focused on just being a happy person. I guess. Really it wasn't all that bad. Alright, it was bad, REALLY bad. Except I couldn't find any other jobs besides my other one at Starbucks, where I also do bathroom duty. At least not in our economy. So technically I should be very thankful. My dad and I were middle class, hardly middle class. He was a chemical and mechanical engineer, a total genius and as a result, worked every day, all day. I made dinner every night before he came home at around nine o'clock. Our income bad hadn't been bad at all, except that was before our rent had been raised on our hardly puny suburban house. That was the moment that changed my life, and made me 'the toilet cleaner'. Who knew just a thing like rent could force you to clean bathrooms in grocery stores and coffee shops every day?

Pushing the huge mop down into the tub/mop yellow thing on wheels, I pulled it out and began mopping down the floors, my lanky arms straining a little with the long mop. Cheese its! No matter how many flipping times I had literally begged on my hands and knees to the manager for a Swiffer I was still stuck with this stupid old fashioned mop that weighed as much as half of me! Well, no surprise considering the manager is a big fat bald dude who has poor hygiene and is a total cheapskate. Mopping every square inch of the place, I threw it back into the yellow bucket of doom on wheels and started cleaning all the sinks. Well, another one of my perks of being the honorary bathroom cleaner I also got to wear rain boots so that I wouldn't make the mopped floor germy. More like 'made' to wear the blasted boots that were 4 sizes too big for my feet, ridiculous. Like good grief already!