First Strike

This past Friday I put into motion my first planned attack against Mr. Janitor. It was truly glorious. Mr. Janitor worked a good part of the week on his floors like he always does. I watched him Monday through Thursday. I was waiting for Friday with anticipation as that’s always Mr. Janitor’s day off. Next week when he comes in to work I hope he finds himself in a living hell. A hell where he will be so busy cleaning, scrubbing, and scraping his floors that he will no longer have the time on his hands to cause trouble for other employees. I want him to be so busy doing his mindless job that he won’t be a full time snitch anymore.

I took a full bottle of Isopropyl Alcohol and removed the safety lid. I walked up and down all of the first floor hallways that smelled of fresh floorwax and sprinkled healthy sized droplets of the Alcohol all over Mr. Janitor’s pristine floors. I have to admit his floors are quite shiny. As I was walking around dispensing my liquid retribution on our beady-eyed custodial misfit I was laughing like a posessed maniac. Nobody saw what I was doing.

Right after refilling the bottle and putting it back on the workbench I got it from, I headed into one of the bathrooms and I took a nearly full bag of wet garbage. Scurrying upstairs undetected by anyone I went straight to Mr. Janitor’s aluminum can collection bin in the lunchroom. Quickly emptying about half the crushed cans from the trash bin I dumped my sack of bathroom garbage into the bin. Then I covered it up with the other half of the cans. It was perfect. No one would suspect the cans were spiked with non-reuseable filthy trash. Mr. Janitor is going to look like a complete asshole at the recycling center when they weigh his stuff and then dump it to find other shit in there. He will have a good old time trying to explain himself. Too bad I won’t be there to watch it happen.

The real test to see if this turns Mr. Janitor into my personal bitch will be when I come into work on Monday. Actually, there could be a delayed reaction though. An extra day of foot traffic might be needed for all of the black rings to appear in the floors. It’s the dirt from our shoes that sticks to the dissolved floorwax and turns it jet black. I think. Anyway maybe by Tuesday everything will work according to plan. I’ll have to be patient this weekend. I’ll try not to think about it but it makes me giddy when I do.

In the meantime someone has still been tormenting Mr. Janitor by dumping all of the trash cans on the floor upstairs in the cubicle maze. No one has been caught in the act, and he’s out to get the culprit with a vengeance. Nobody seems to know anything about it when being questioned. I’ve even been trying to find out who the stealthy mastermind is so I can buy the individual a beer and I can’t get anyone to talk. Dammit! All I can say is, whoever the person is they are really fast at dumping all those cans out. Of course they’ve had alot of practice since this has been going on for weeks. Hopefully no one will get caught. Even though I have no idea who is responsible for the trash dumping prank, it’s good to know I have an ally in my war against Mr. Janitor.

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~ by factorypeasant on December 13, 2004.

2 Responses to “First Strike”

  1. Update dammit!

    _|/_

    ~shin·y~
    adj.
    1. Radiating light; bright.
    2. Bright from reflected light; glistening.
    3. Having a sheen from being rubbed or worn smooth.

  2. Updated as ordered, sir.

    Hey got one of my planned roadtrips out of the way this weekend. Lemme know when would be a good time to head south. We’ll hang out.

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