The Janitor

Peter Cornicles Chapter 1

His vision began to fade; breathing was almost impossible. He knew that if he didn’t figure a way out soon, it would be all over for him. He frantically searched for any way out but couldn't find one. He began to vomit; the chunky mess of beer and chicken tenders stained his overalls, but he did not care. “Why doesthis keep happening to me?” he said, his voice barely louder than a horse whisper. As his world started to go black, he felt hands on his back. It didn’t matter to him anymore; he knew his time was up - all he wished for was the sweet release of death. The hands managed to pull him out of the janitor’s closet and into the hallway; instantly, he could breathe again. He sucked in the fresh air greedily, not noticing the piss running down his Dickie overalls. His vision started to clear at this point. To his horror, Detective Tom DeFapper was the one who pulled him out of the janitor’s closet. Detective Tom DeFapper had a medium build, and his doctor kept reminding him that men his age should be building muscle, not fat. 

“Get up stupid.” DeFapper said, “ The chief needs to seeyou; also, what the fuck! This is the fourth time this month you locked yourself in your damn closet and mixed all those fucking chemicals,” DeFapper continued. DeFapper made it look like he was about to walk away, but at the last instant, he turned around and kicked the man on the floor instead. The man was too numb to feel much. A summons from Chief Rizzo? Could this be the day the Chief makes him a detective? He knew it was unlikely, but stranger things had happened. By this point, DeFapper was at the end of the hallway; DeFapper stopped and turned around, looking at the man still on the ground. A mixture of rage, love, and pity filled his heart. “Listen, you’ll buy dinner later when we get home.” He turned and walked away.

As Peter DeFapper managed to get up on his two feet, he looked to where his little brother had stood a few moments ago. Peter, a tall man known for his legendary strength and rage, for once didn’t feel like bashing his younger brother's head in. He figured it had something to do with the summons from the chief. Peter reached into the pockets of his overalls and pulled out a beer; glancing at his watch, he saw it was 10 in the morning, and he almost died, so why not celebrate a little? He downed his beer in two gulps and threw the can on the ground, figuring it would be the new janitor’s problem now. He set off for the chief’s office.

“Why the fuck did you mix bleach and ammonia in your closet again? You have got to be the worst janitor I’ve ever seen. Fuck I knew I should have never hired you in the first place! I don’t know what I thought when I saw space janitor on your resume and figured you were worth even interviewing,” Scream Chief Rizzo as Peter walked into his office. “Another thing, stop fucking drinking on the job. It’s bad enough that you somehow make more skid marks on the toilet after supposedly cleaning them.” Peter looked down, not out of shame but to look into the chief's eyes. Chief Joshua Grimbledick Rizzo was only 5 feet tall. “Listen, chief, you know I do the best I can; I was working on a new cleaning formula that would be a game-changer,” Peter said cooly. “I don’t care if you were working on a formula that sucks your cock while you wipe! You think after four times this month alone, you know it was a stupid idea,” Chief Rizzo yelled. Peter, still looking dead in the chief eye, began to smile. “I know why you called me in, sir,” said Peter. Before the chief could respond, Peter continued, “You want to make me a detective.” At this, the chief’s mouth dropped open in shock. Peter smiled to himself, thinking that he solved this brain teaser. The chief, still in a state of shock, finally finding the words, began to speak. “Listen, Peter, we went over this. I even explained that we do not have a janitor-to-detective pipeline here. You don’t have any skill sets,” but Peter broke in. “You remember when, during my interview, you asked why I wanted to work here!? Do you!” Peter yelled.

“I told you I have a passion for cleaning shit up,” Peter continued. “Yeah, but Peter, I thought you were talking about literal shit, not a crime,” the chief managed to stumble out. At this, Peter fumed more; he thought to himself how this little manlet had the nerve to boss him around. Peter began to fill with rage, the type of battle rage written by the warriors of a long-gone era. The Chief, seeing this, was quick to continue and try to defuse the situation. “Look, Peter, I just called you in because I spilled my coffee on the ground and need you to clean it up. I know you're drunk right now, so how about I make you a deal? Clean this mess up, then you go home and sober up. Tomorrow, against my best judgment, I’ll have you tag along with your brother Tom. I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I am.” Peter’s rage was quickly replaced with a sense of joy at hearing this. His dream was coming true. He looked at the chief and said, “Well, I’m a detective now, so clean your shit. I’m going home, and I’m going to slam like 40 beers to get ready for tomorrow.” Peter then walked out of the chief's office. Chief Rizzo murmured, “God help us all…” under this breath.

That night, Peter drank the 40 beers he promised he would; he even managed to use Tom’s HTC Vive VR headset to pleasure himself under a virtual moon surrounded by virtual nude big-breasted women. Tom just so happened to walk in as Peter began to bust his load on Tom’s favorite Wiafu. Tom yelled something unintelligible as he grabbed for his Takumi Fujiwara pillow. Tom was too slow, and Peter’s spunk was too fast, hitting the pillow and getting on Tom’s Sig Saur P226. Tears began to well in Tom’s eyes, while Peter had no idea anyone was in the room with him. “Time to clean this shit up before Tom gets home and catches me again,” Peter said out loud as he took off the headset. To his shock, Tom was standing in front of him. Not missing a beat, Peter said, “I don’t know who did this, brother, but we will catch that hog squeezer red-handed,” and walked out of Tom’s room.

Peter slept deeply that night, dreaming of all the crimes he would soon solve.