[ TT ] [ RF ] You 've got 20 minutes left on your shift , and the manager asks you to clean the bathroom .

Later that day, down at Cloddenshifter's, the Hootbier enclave where I had first learned to strain raw silk, I was finishing a dandy shift of mine, yet could I not have been any earlier but to see through, to you. It was the next day that Cloddenshift himself had came down and around the mountain, ho, is to thee he did. 
 
 And with his clops he did tell me but once: `` Gretchni, canst ya plid me off in der sinkish villye?'' And suddenly I knew it was going to be a long night. 
 
 It had beena ges since the new sink was installed, yet in some days portals had even opened quester the sink did spoil and yonder the toots did form. Could n't ein of his lasters and biddybois do it on they on selves? 
 
 Clast, nay they didst fer iffit gorn the weber could n't ave ad em and made for work hours late in the night of a Tome in Silent Screed and Wandered Blulster Affairz TV 14 and 15. Tuning in for next weeks Jamboree centrium and admetrium mixtrulationary pandering the goingoing gone metrial fibreoptic channe- on a heave with him he hardly sent whapping down the stair irons and clastre the bonefibre of his list. 
 
 `` Clodd - naught that ya did - bittre am I to have another day in this mire, my man!'' I figured the old cunt would smile and maybe even look away to whatever glassy newsware he had and check off a few more tisks for the day. Alas, nye. 
 
 `` Gretchni'' - ( alphablast neunZEHN captainish ) - Fier Blinker Acht Blinker Zehn Blinker - `` Couldst though be a darling and toiletries - *now*!'' 
 
 I stamped rapid off and on the toiletbasin Acht for a bit of a swipe, but the old cunt ai n't take a pithy eye off my meat for even yonder a moment. 
 
 `` Tisky tisky Gretchni!'' A bit of hufflebong rapidliquid from the old dorner. `` Couldst ya mebbe for a likin to da that... tisky tisky!'' He tappened his flathorn and buttery scotch lock flop down on twenty. 
 
 I hettered and spat like a cleesh in darkened spiderweb could that cunt in a corner see me now. And I blestered and festered, but yaught could I fester atin and ato. 
 
 `` Aysin a mast and could I once or twice just get aughty my way out of here fer ya askin me to sweep.'' The blott of a ponce. 
 
 `` Gretchni, ya and I could have caught an eyesore from that sink again if ya turn the meatstalls over ato for a lad, yeh?'' He smirked with that old, coddery way of his. The blasker old and new tires and posers came with the territory at Clodds, had been for years. 
 
 I looked away and squat off to the Sinkery with my fiddlebucket swinging me corners of the stall. At hease he did, as Clodd laid off for a moment my eyes peered round the room. Shat me again - the Sinkery was a naught be whet. But twas not much of a problem today. 
 
 Flipswitch the henrietta household again. And out my bucketwater spat and hemped off and on these tired walls with his big fluffy birdware. The clowns and assholes of Cloddmetrium hardly swashed a buckle as I wiped her down. Smells and scents like digeridoo paintings in old cliffs played to montage my barely backening and buddy cop comedy. Ramping it up with new songs could often buddycop my favorite cleaning, alas today the spat and silk rose and frothed hard, noted to a tee the blinkering flask butched upon this autumn floor of my digeridoo palace. Could I hardly to sweep that rotten floorensink if the Clodd came again to once more perchance my heaving. 
 
 Only a few more swipes left - classed out at the hoping flitch and once more did I pass on out that dore - again and off. 
 
 Later that day Ol' Clodd had tooted once and off in the sink himself. Not to bluster, but yer boy did clean them well and it certainly made a toot screech of not in pain, but a good scent that room had that night. At the old Sink I knew of a good smell and old cleaners before I had to pass. It were great and Clodd always knew I was best cleaner.
