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.
