Nick's Journal
2001-12-04 06:35:00 (UTC)

The Cleaning Personell

Don't mess with them. That's all I have to say. Don't
look in their direction. Don't complain to them when
they're cleaning the bathroom. They've got a mop and a
license to fuck you up. They're badass and they're pissed
about their rank on the so called "caste" system.
Seriously, they are some scary mother fuckers. Last year
one of the janitors took one of the good old fun loving,
life enjoying, college students to "school" (no pun
intended). She must have said the wrong word, and the
next thing she knew she was on the ground eating the boot
of a janitor. He beat her like a compulsive fornicator
hits the meat after a long church outing. Hmmm that was
really bad.
I walk out to econ and there they are. The four beasts as
I like to call them. Four custodial laters with an
attitude that spells trouble. They take up the stairs on
my way so that I must walk along side on the grass, I
timidly keep my head down as they glare at me, and make
sure that I don't have anything "smart" to say about their
school-issued cleaning uniforms. They smoke their
cigarettes and size me up. I fear them.
And let me tell you. Don't fuck with them when they want
to clean the bathroom. There's nothing more annoying than
the sight of a butt that's the size of Montana, when all
you want to do is take a shit. You walk in and try to get
past but you are quickly suplexed and told to stay the
fuck away. Because the bathroom must be CLEAN. Ironically
enough it never is. Somehow they use a toothbrush on the
windows but completely ignore the vomit encrusted
urinals. They power wash the showers, and if you're not
careful you'll feel the full wrath of one of those hoses.
But now I'm so tired
I must go