Sometimes Janitors (A Role Playing Game)

Sometimes, being a janitor can be a hard job:
Cleaning floors that other people have dirtied,
Taking out the trash that no one wants to touch,
And cleaning toilets after someone left their crap behind.

Sometimes we stand there and take it like Mr. Clean:
Juice boxes spilled on the floor right beside the garbage,
Apple cores and banana peals using us as bin backboards.
Disrespected. We become part of the furniture that we wipe.

Sometimes we can get a little cranky.
“I just cleaned this floor!” We say,
words chasing muddy sneakers,
But all we see are the shadows they hide in.
We shake our heads at the three-point shots
of a ball through a hoop,
Wondering how such perfect aim
disappears when hoops and traded for toilet bowls.

Sometimes janitors have a dirty job.
Sometimes we meet the culprits,
(leaving the bathroom in a hurry)
… but often we don’t.
We inherit someone else’s dirty work
with our punched clocks
We wrestle other men’s demons
with a scrub brush and a bucket
And when the crap hits the fan
(a prank only juvenile’s think is assuming)
we are the first number on speed dial.

Sometimes we do the jobs no one wants to do.
Someone has to battle the monsters with a broadsword mop.
We carry magic spells in spray bottles,
Wipe away the sadness of pencil tips on desk tops
(memory monsters, struggles, and sorrow slugs that others have conjured up).
We deal with the dirt that slips through the cracks.

Sometimes people ask us “What do I do with this?”
Pulling you around like a tied trash bag.
“Just leave it here with me. I’ll take care of it.” We say.
They are far too eager to leave the undesirable at our feet.
“Where is the washroom?” They ask,
jumping from one foot to the next.
We show them where they can drop that load
that has weighed them down for far too long.
Sometimes they don’t ask,
simply track their dirt through your halls, across our floors,
leaving scars that take a mop head magic wand to cast away.

Sometimes, being a janitor can be a hard job:
Cleaning bodies that other people dirtied,
Taking out the trash from minds too long left untouch,
And cleaning souls of all the crap that someone else left behind.
When it all hits the fan
(a prank only monsters think is assuming)
we are the first number on speed dial.

Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *