Bloodstained Paycheck

Owen Edge took a sip of his black coffee out of a thermos and smiled at the strong flavor. He sat in his car as the morning sun peaked over the horizon and gave him that little burst of sunshine he needed to start his day. He loved orange clouds and pink skies since they reminded him of eating sherbet ice cream as a kid. What he didn’t love was the fact that his car was parked outside of a porn theater. Sure, masturbation was a natural function, but pressing sticky white fluids against the walls was straight up disgusting. Nonetheless, Owen had a job to do.

He took one last sip of his coffee, straightened his brown jacket and blue tie, and exited the vehicle after popping his trunk. He pulled a gigantic blue tarp along with some cleaning supplies out of said trunk before sighing heavily and trudging his way into the porn theater. Because his arms were full, he kicked at the steel door to let the bouncer know he was here.

A little slide on the door opened up to reveal harsh eyes staring bullets into Owen’s soul. The cleaner asked, “Are you Dennis McKay?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Owen. I clean messes for a living. Mind if I come in?”

Dennis slid the eye hole shut and opened the door for Owen, who was hurried inside and patted down by the hulking bouncer. Dennis’s muscular frame made the skinnier Owen look like a small child by comparison. The bouncer wore a black security T-shirt that magnified every muscle in his body along with a pair of blue jeans that were conversely too baggy.

Once Dennis found no weapons or contraband on Owen, he said, “Security protocol. I’ve got to do it with everybody…even if you are earning a bloodstained paycheck today.” Mr. McKay handed Owen a taped up stack of freshly laundered one hundred dollar bills, to which Owen dropped his cleaning supplies and thumbed through it quickly to see if it was real money.

Satisfied with his findings, Owen picked up his acidic spray bottles and sponges and said, “Grab that tarp. It’s time to get busy. Show me where the body is.”

The two of them strolled to a glass booth only protected by a thin black curtain. As if the semen stains on the glass and curtain weren’t disgusting enough, the bloody corpse of a young man with a college logo T-shirt made the claustrophobic booth look like a slaughterhouse. “Jesus Christ, Dennis, what the fuck did you do to him?”

“The bastard had it coming. Yeah, it was a little rough, but come on, if you saw the shit he was doing, you’d go berserk too. He thinks he can do whatever he wants just because he’s got a liberal arts degree from some faggot university.”

“Fair enough,” said Owen. The two of them rolled the dead body in the tarp like a burrito so that not even the head and feet could stick out. The cleaner then gave the beefcake bouncer a book of matches and ordered, “Take the corpse out to the dumpster and burn that motherfucker. If some cop sticks his nose where it shouldn’t be, just tell him some homeless fucker got drunk and fell into his own fire.”

“Got it,” said Dennis. “Just make sure you’ve got all that blood cleaned up and I’ll give you the other half of your payment. My boss paid good money for you.”

Owen patted the hulking ogre on his shoulder and assured him, “Trust me, Dennis, by the time I’m done with this place, people will be able to eat off of it, in more ways than one.” That last joke was punctuated with a wink, to which Dennis smiled and hauled the corpse out to the back alley.

The cleaner evaluated the work he had cut out for him with a mixture of disgust and professionalism. The blood and semen would be the easiest part of his job. It was the pieces of brain, skull, and god knows what else that would prove to be difficult.

Nonetheless, Owen knelt down, wetted his sponge with the acidic cleaning spray and scrubbed down the mess as hard as he could. Despite being a skinny guy, he scrubbed like he had Dennis’s 24-inch pythons, working his arms and hands down to the bone. Even with this tiring effort, the stains wouldn’t come out so easily, so he sprayed them some more.

As he was wiping the carpeted floor, he could hear rapping underneath. His eyes darted from side to side in confusion, but Owen Edge ultimately shrugged his shoulders and continued scrubbing. The rapping got progressively louder until Owen threw his sponge in frustration. “What, has he got fucking rats down here or something? Shit!”

He scoped his general vicinity to make sure all was clear before spraying acid on the corner of the carpet and ripping it up with ruthless force. Underneath the carpet was a trap door that took the brunt of the light rapping. Soon that rapping turned to kicking. And then the kicking turned to muffled female moaning. Owen squirted acid on the wooden door and used the newly formed hole as a leverage point to heave the heavy son of a bitch. The cleaner gazed into the hole with wide eyes and shaky hands before whispering, “Holy shit…”

Fifteen minutes later, Owen Edge stood cross legged and arms folded against the wall of the porn shop’s lobby, preferably a wall that wasn’t decorated with dildos, ball gags, whips, chains, gimp hoods, god knows what else. With the way the cleaner drummed his fingers against his arm, he knew there was going to be hell to pay for Dennis once he got his giant ass back in here. What was taking him so long to burn the body?

“Owen? You’re done already? Holy shit, you are the best! High five, buddy!” said Dennis as he sneaked back into the lobby with his hand held high in the air.

“You know, Dennis, I’d love to high five you right now, but I actually figured out where that hand has been. Not even my superior cleaning skills can get that mess off. You need help, buddy,” said Owen sternly.

“You’re in a porn theater, dumb ass. Get used to it!” barked Dennis.

“Oh, I’m fully aware of my current location. In fact, I seem to know this place up and down, backwards and forwards…first floor and underground.” Dennis’s arrogant smile melted off of his face like a popsicle. “That girl has a name, asshole: it’s Felicia Strom. She told me everything, every goddamn detail, although I could figure most of it out by the fact that she had a ball gag in her mouth and she was in a leather thong and bra. Were you planning on telling me this minute detail?”

Dennis chuckled nervously and said, “What her? She works here. She needs the money just like we all do in this life. You know something about that, don’t you, Owen. Besides, when did you get a moral compass all of the sudden?”

“Yeah, who knew that fucking with teenaged girls would be one of my berserk buttons?” said Owen as he sized up his bouncer nemesis. “Everybody has standards, Dennis. Everybody has a line that they don’t cross. I don’t know what yours is, but mine happens to be kidnapping young ladies and making them…do the things she did.” He gagged at that last sentence.

“Where is she?” asked Dennis before screaming the same question and grabbing Owen’s suit jacket.

“She’s long gone, probably going back home to her parents for the first time in forever. But you? You’re going straight to hell if you don’t get your splooge-covered hands off of me,” threatened Owen.

Dennis burst into a rage and hoisted Owen up by his arm pits before slamming him repeatedly against the wall. The cleaner felt the air being driven out of his lungs with every hard slam as well as his head popping and his neck creaking. Dennis’s barbaric anger caused him to slam Owen into other parts of the wall, knocking sex novelties off their display holders. Owen tried to grab a dildo off the wall and pound Dennis over the head with it, but the bouncer no-sold it, smiled, and chucked the cleaner over the counter.

Owen could feel his muscles weakening, his bones chipping, and his brain fogging up. He also coughed up a liberal amount of blood as he grabbed the counter and gingerly pulled himself to his wobbly feet. He fell down a few times and coughed up more blood, but found his footing after the third or fourth try. His vision was dark and hazy, but he could make out the shape of Dennis with his arms folded. The bouncer laughed at him with a demonic voice, one that was ear-splitting enough to keep Owen from falling asleep. The only words Owen could muster at that point were, “Felicia…run!”

The sex slave teenager stood in the doorway naked, shivering, and teary-eyed. She also had Owen’s thermos of black coffee, which was still steaming hot even after all of the time spent cleaning the crime scene.

Dennis mocked her by spreading his arms out and saying, “You’re going to throw that in my face, bitch? Go ahead. Do it. I fucking dare you! Come on! Throw that shit in my face! It’ll be like what my customers do to you every night, but with a different liquid!”

Felicia continued shivering and crying while weakly holding the coffee thermos out to potentially throw. “I…I…I won’t let you…I…you can’t…”

“Leave her alone, Dennis! Felicia, run!” shouted Owen as he still struggled to maintain his equilibrium.

“That’s what I thought, bitch. Give me that fucking coffee, I’m thirsty!” grunted Dennis as he yanked the thermos out of his victim’s hand. He gulped it down in a hurry, not giving a damn how hot it was. He sighed and said, “That’s some damn good coffee, bitch! Mmm-mmm-mmm! What flavor is this? Taster’s Choice?”

“Actually, Dennis…” squeaked Felicia. “There’s vanilla…some caramel…some whipped cream…and…Viagra! Lots and lots of Viagra!” The last list item was punctuated with a confident stance and deadly eyes.

Dennis’s own eyes bulged out of his head as he coughed violently and clutched his chest with a death grip. He dropped to his knees and hacked some more. He tried sucking down air, but it came out raspy and sweat poured off of him like a fire hydrant. “How could you?” he said weakly. “We gave you everything. A home…good money…and…” Dennis coughed up blood before rolling on his back and passing out with a bulge in his jeans. His breathing became shallow and his eyes rolled back in his head. His skin whitened like glue. And then, his head twisted to the side to signify his otherwise limp body.

Owen kept holding onto the counter for balance, but he struggled even more when he couldn’t stop laughing. “Dennis McKay takes Viagra? Holy shit! All that muscle mass and….god, what was I saying?” The cleaner lost his balance again and collapsed to the floor.

Felicia rushed to his side and held his hand. “Are you okay? Speak to me!”

“Oh, I’m fine, Miss Strom. This ain’t my first rodeo and it won’t be my last. I’m more worried about how you are.” Owen dug in his jacket pocket and pulled out the wad of one hundred dollar bills. Felicia’s eyes widened as she handled all of that money. The cleaner said, “Listen, babe: that bloodstained paycheck belongs to you. Get your ass home, spend that money on college or some shit, and don’t ever come back to this place again. Got it? Don’t worry about me, I’ll find my way out of here. I’ll get to a hospital…or hell…or heaven…who knows where I’m going from here…”

Owen nodded off while Felicia pounded his chest in an attempt to wake him up. The further he drifted off, the harder she shook him. During his last few moments of consciousness, he kept wondering if being in the cleaning business was worth it anymore. Would there be other scummy clients like Dennis McKay? Of course. Would they go to his extremes? More likely than not. Being neutral and coldhearted was Owen Edge’s mantra for so long. Now that he was about to meet his maker, all the laundered money in the world couldn’t help him in the afterlife.