Thursday, August 03, 2006

It wasn't long ago that I was a mere swab. A lowly status, I know, but compared to the shoddy job performed by my cousins, the brooms, I felt I was really something. I mean, brooms can't clean up anything unless it's dry and loose, and the world just isn't made that way. Mud, spit, spilled cola, blood, vomit . . . need I go on? Sure, you might say I was just a sponge on stick, dunked in bilge and shoved over a surface coated with other people's filth. But I was proud of what I could do: I could change things, decrust the encrusted, bring shimmer and shine to what was once putrid. The point is that I was fairly well full of myself and eventually I came to think I could clean anything, no matter how vile. I didn't realize that vilness is not the only challange for tools of my trade. I had never come up against a purposeful mess. When a group of pranksters, using hair gel, blocked off an entire wing of a building that was under my watch, I realized I had met my match.


At 7:27 AM, Blogger jwinters said...

Uh, oh! John didn't like your recent article at all. I just heard him thunder from his office (and lapsing into Spanish). . . .

Raw onanism! Si, nano war!

At 7:42 AM, Blogger Michael Abrams said...

I dunno . . . sounds to me like he liked it a little too much.

At 8:50 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

this is one of the best. Reinds me of the story of the fllow witha pin head.. Of which , I am now one. lulu

At 1:25 PM, Anonymous Dave Neilson said...

Lie not to Neil!
Evade Dave!

At 1:34 PM, Blogger Michael Abrams said...

To Nielson: On no-nos, lie not.

Always good advice, as it happens.


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