Woof, Woof, Bitch. | MxB fantasy [Discontinued]

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-·=»‡«=·- Ｒｉｌｅｙ＇ｓ ｐｏｖ -·=»‡«=·-

     I have to go home.

     That's why I left an hour ago. I took the bus home because I didn't want Brucey to see where I live. It's kinda gross. Also, it's in the bad part of town. The dangerous part. I don't want Brucey to think I'm icky 'cause I live in the icky part of town. 

     Now, I'm cleaning up the front room for Mr. John. He'd be upset if it isn't clean. Maybe this'll make him happy. 

     With that thought in my mind, I start scrubbing the floor with the sponge. It takes a lot of elbow grease and I have to put a lot of my weight onto it, but it works and the floor is eventually cleaned. Then I work on clearing off the table. 

     I first clear off Mr. John's things. He has a gun, a carving knife, and newspaper. Also, a couple old cups from the gas station that had spilled out onto the table. Then, I clear off Miss Macey's things. Finger gloves, a thing of weird lotion, and a paper showing test results for 'STD's. It says she doesn't have any. I'm assuming that's a good thing. 

     I put them all in their appropriate places and make sure that it's all neat and accessible. As Mr. John says, "You never know when you're gonna need your gun." 

     Then I get started on scrubbing the table down with my sponge. I need to get rid of the drink stains, the tiny glass shards, and the white stains. By the time I'm finished, my hand is kinda uncomfy and sore. But I still need to do the chairs. So I scrub those down as well, even with my muscles protesting. Then I start on the kitchen.

     It goes a lot like the table, except more white stains and putting things up. I also have more scrubbing to do, and breakfast to make. After I finish with the counters, all thoroughly scrubbed because I've seen how Miss Macey defiles them, I start on breakfast.

     Some scrambled eggs and pancakes would do. For meat, I can re-heat the ground-beef and mix it in with the eggs. That shouldn't taste too horrible. I make enough for two people, even though Miss Macey will probably throw most of hers away. I wish she would give it to me instead, but what can you do?

    I mean, I could make extra for me, but Mr. John would get mad at me. I don't want him mad at me. That would hurt really bad. 

     I was drawn out of my thoughts by the smell of proper scrambled eggs. So, I grab my spatula and stir it around so it'll cook on the other side. Then I go to the other pan and stir the ground beef. Then, I start work on the pancake batter. Just some flour, eggs, milk, and salt mixed in a bowl. Then I take the ground beef out of the heat and put it onto the plates. 

    Not wanting to waste any time, I pour the pancake batter into the same pan that's still covered in grease. It'll be fine. 

     I take the scrambled eggs and plate them, with more on Mr. John's plate than Miss Macey's. Then I go back to taking care of my pancakes.

     A couple minutes pass, and I have six pancakes made. I plate them evenly and set them on the table. Then I go to Mr. John's chair and start washing it, hoping to get out the smell of cigarettes. I hope Damie doesn't smoke.

     Smoke smells like how my blanket feels. Dry, itchy, gross, and icky all around. Imagine if I got a good blankee. It would need to be soft. So soft, like cotton fluff mixed with kitty fur mixed with clouds, and Damie's coolness. It would also need to be as big as Bumblee's muscle-y arms.

     I hate the smell of smoke and cigarettes. It burns my nose and makes me cough. Icky. Besides, I just wanna be able to have a pet. It doesn't have to be anything too much, but I'll tell you my selfish little secret.