John was the average man. Average job, average house, average salary, mid thirties, an average age, and divorced. That last one isn’t exactly average but the odds are one to one as sad as that is. He woke up every morning to go to a job that he didn’t feel anything for to earn a salary that kept him alive with a handful of saved luxuries. And every night he would go home tired and eat something once frozen, defrosted in either his home or in a nationally famous fast food organization.
John is the guy you are aware exists on such a low level that all of his work seems to be done by some mysterious machine.
The guy that is counted in the number of people in the room but not in the number of people you work with.
There is absolutely nothing unique about john except that john never cleans his house and never hired anyone to clean his house but it is never dirty. And that john, once upon a time in a town far, far away, had a stalker
He is one of 7 people specially chosen by Adrian.
Adrian is self-employed. He hired himself, pays himself and refuses raises to himself. He once even sexually harassed himself. That was messy. But he was able to bribe himself to keep it out of court.
Don’t ask* see nonexistent back pages
Self given job description- Good Samaritan
Legal description- intruder and stalker as defined by the police force of a town Adrian used to live in. But that’s usually behind him now. He usually looks in the other direction.
John has one lock on all his doors.* foot note-as in one kind of lock obviously. He couldn’t have just one lock for more then one door but people can be surprisingly dense.*footnote-dense as in stupid. What you are if you needed this spectacular waste of space and ink.
It’s a good lock, it can’t be picked. He got it after his ex-girlfriend started stalking him. For a while it was actually surprisingly useful, he would shout out totally random questions like: “where did I put my socks?” or “what’s my social security number?” or even “what was that one cute girls name?” and he would receive an answer. In fact, it wasn’t until that last question that arrangement became a problem that was when he alerted the local authorities and installed unpickable locks.
That’s why Adrian had a key made.
Every night Adrian rides his bike down to a different street and waits. When his chosen comes home and goes to bed, he waits. And when he is sure that they are in a deep sleep he goes to their door, opens it, closes it quietly behind him, and does hi s best to not track dirt onto the carpet.
then in consideration to the owner he walks quietly up the stairs, goes into the bedroom and puts sound blocking earplugs into them.*footnote -please tell me for the love of god that you automatically knew he put them in their ears.
If needed he’ll even pull up the covers, move hair out of the face or even remove glasses. Adrian is a very considerate man.
Then he goes downstairs and does the dishes. Afterwards he will usually go about dusting the house or clean bathrooms. The kitchens rarely need cleaning. The sad pattern of single life.
He does not straighten pictures.
He does not do laundry.
He will take out stains out of carpets and off of walls. But not stains of a questionable nature.
Out of consideration to the owner he does not vacuum when they are home. That is generally a daytime activity.
And out of consideration he does his work in the dark as not to run up the light bill. Even the vacuum runs on a battery.
Adrian will even clean the inside of their cars and service their engines.
Adrian is a very considerate man.
This is his work; it is what he does all day. His salary is on commission. It is based on recycling, anything found anywhere, primarily things in houses and unclaimed, completely guilt free loose change. Due to his short detainment in the then local jail his salary received a slight deduction and he was fired for not showing up to work for 2 weeks. However his boss was generous and gave him his job back with a small pay cut of 400 dollars. His boss then selfishly spent the money on himself. It was a rather unfortunate and sordid affair.
However this is the story of Michael Evans.
This is not a distraction.
The above of information was not pointless.
You were simply meant to believe that for a short while.
It is all rather pointless really.
But rest assured Michael Evans will eventually become Adrian Snave but not until after the unfortunate and sordid affair. But that’s for later.
Michael Evans was born in a hospital from the wrong womb but in the right room… his half-sister was being born down the hall and to the right 50 paces. That child was born Michelle Evans. It was the son of the same father who was involved in a rather lewd and sordid affair. His last name was Evans. So was the last name of his mistress. The women were mixed up in the rooms due to this error. However the legitimate Mrs. Evans had wanted, expected and had been told that she was giving birth to a son. Thus the womb mix-up.
Michael was born, given the spank of life, cried, and then proceeded to wipe himself off as best he could with his flailing useless arms. He failed miserably. He was very slimy. When in the nursery he then began to attempt to clean the other babies. By attempt I mean that he flailed useless limbs around while crying in frustration. So at this point he was seemingly normal. Except of course that he refused to defecate in the diaper. It was rather worrying. However they soon discovered a pattern. He would only defecate and slash or urinate when the diaper was taken off and he was lifted. Of course being completely ungrateful adults they did not understand that defecating slash urinating in such proximity to the body is incredibly uncomfortable. This is after all why talcum powder is liberally used. But this simple fact never seems to come to mind to the adults. Bastards.
And that’s it really.
Then he grew up.
But in the middle stuff happened, obviously.
And just to take out latent passive-aggressive feelings on you, I wrote a book about the middle.
Around one-ish when he began walking, he also began amateur-ish cleaning. Dusting mostly. He tried anything he could reach except for bugs. He hated bugs! You couldn’t see it but he just knew that they made everything dirty somehow. But no way was he about to touch one.
Shoes were a puzzle. They kept feet clean and killed bugs. They also made the floor and carpet dirty and tasted funny and smelled bad and hurt his feet and sometimes had bugs in them. It was his first love slash hate relationship. But his nemesis, his arch-enemy was the barred crib and its associate, the play pen (itentiary). Together they spawned devious offspring. The car seat of death, the restricting seat belt of gasping breath, and the multitude of wheeled, restricting chairs of doom. Of them all the last were the worst. They offered some movement. Mocking him. It was enough to move but that was it! Nothing! Absolutely nothing could be reached over its supposedly protective sides. And what’s worse, they had somehow tricked his dear loving mother onto their side. Surely she of all people could not be this cruel to him willingly. Unless… no impossible but she did mess the kitchen… no impossible! Cast these dark thoughts out of the mind and into the abyss where they belong!
It was torture. He could move but he could not clean. And they still insisted on the die-aper. Yes, he knew what it was called now. The die-aper. A fitting name for this instrument of torture. They did not tolerate the pattern found earlier and instead of adhering to it, decided to let it run its course. Constipation is painful. Adrian gave up. The rash was almost as bad as the hot, wet, squishy feeling. It was always too much. And he always was driven to tears, crying out in agony and anger of his weakness. They had beaten him. Yes, they were the stronger. But he was patient. His time would come.
It had to.
Now as I hope you have surmised by now, babies are actually very intelligent. It wasn’t just Michael. Every baby is perfectly capable of higher thinking. How else can you explain how they start crying exactly when you wish they won’t? Obviously it’s because they know. Every baby tries to climb out of the crib or the play pen and cries then the die-aper has been soiled. It is simply that in Michael’s case it all seemed just so… personal. Go ahead. Prove me wrong. Just have kids. Treat them only horribly when you think they’re too young to remember. Treat them great after and when you think that they can’t understand, tell them exactly what you are doing. They will know. They will remember. A fairly good first sign is if they can’t seem to understand the concept of a toilet. Guard your shoes and any valuables placed lower then 3 feet of the ground. Even when washed it’s never really the same is it?
But these are really just the normal tortures endured by all babies. So like the greater majority, Michael got through it okay for the most part. * Foot note -there was the ever after infamous carpet stain, whose origin was never spoken of. It was almost legendary. In fact, in baby circles for generations to come, it was. It became a legend.
And so eventually Michael was finally expected to grow a little. Otherwise known as….
Freedom of movement!
His time had finally come!
And not a moment to soon.
In fact he was already planning to give up.
Throw in the towel.
Admit defeat and throw him at the mercy of the cruel adults.
It is an unpopular, shameful road but it is not one that is untread.
You’ve seen them before.
It’s those children that are just so… submissive.
They follow what the parent says with almost no argument and always does what is expected of them.
But please, don’t look down on them or make fun of them… alot of them make some of the finest lawyers, doctors and scientists in the world. Typical.
Where was I? Well I was at the mall watching a good movie but that was then. Now I am trying to warn you about Michael who became Adrian.
Anyway, yeah, so Michael was finally allowed to walk. No more play pen (itentery! No more hanging seat with wheels! No more die-aper. He was finally allowed the dignity of using the toilet like everyone else.* foot note-it should be noted however that he was not allowed the dignity of wiping himself. Like die-apers, this was simply another obstacle of life Michael would have to wait out. He did try to do it by himself. I have absolutely no doubt that had he been allowed, he would have done a better job then his mother. As it was, she walked in just as he was about to start and stopped him. To this day, not one person has a reasonable explanation for this.
His mother was a full time homemaker. This impeded Michael’s initial cleaning attempts but like all hard working intelligent people he found a way around this. It was simple really.
“Mom can I help?”
“Sure you can honey.”
And that was it.
That’s how it started anyway.
Because like many mothers, his had low expectations of babies his age.
She was mocking him really.
Its like when i kid wants to shave and gets a toy razor.
He got one of those toy vacuums with the little balls that bounced around.
Wouldn’t even let him do the dishes.
Nope. He got a plastic piece of shit.
But if you have ever been in the cereal section or the toy section or a multitude of other sections you know exactly how whiny a kid can get.
And Adrian wasn’t proud of it. It was in fact a low that he had promised himself that he would never stoop to that level.
It was beneath him.
It was demeaning and completely void of dignity but it was the only way. And in some circumstances we must sacrifice something to gain what we desire.
He just really hoped that no one would remember this moment.
“But moooooom! I wanna real vacuum!”
“I know honey but it’s too big for you.”
“But mooooom! It’s not too big! I can do it! I’m a big boy!”
And just to shut him up. “Okay! Alright! Here. Take the vacuum.”
And well, it really was too big for him. He couldn’t push it effectively.
But using his superior mental capacities, Adrian simply unhooked the extension, the hose and what not, and used those to clean. It was kinda cute really. Little baby boy using the little hose thing to clean the floor and cracks and pulling the vacuum around with all his might. And he was actually doing a good job. Crawling under things when he couldn’t lift them. Using chairs, steps, cushions and all kinds of other items to boost his height for those hard to reach places. Sure it took hours upon hours but hell he got it done, it was clean and his mother got a good long rest.
Then he grew up and became one of us.
And like many of us he changed for a girl.