The Psycho Cleaner
by Lucas Rauseo
On a dark, albeit not stormy, night, a van is tearing down the street and into the suburbs of a town named Lil’ Willow. At first glance, one might assume that this van is traveling way too fast, but they would likely hold their breath once they saw who was driving it: Dave Marley Davidson, also known as the PSYCHO CLEANER!
“Who is The Psycho Cleaner,” you may ask? Well, dear reader, let’s travel back to the origins of Dave. He was originally born in a quaint farmhouse with loving, supportive parents. He had food, water, animals, pretty much everything a lad like him would need. Alas, there were a few gaping flaws: The dust blew everywhere, the mud splashed and oozed all over the walls, the grime was never-ending, and the dirt, the dirt, THE DIRT!! His parents didn’t mind it at all, but to Dave, it was a nightmare. One that he could never wake from. From that moment on, Dave’s madness gave birth to something new, determination. A determination to rid all that is dirty, dusty, and grimy from this world. Thus, he took up the brush, armed himself with a spray bottle, and became the legendary Psycho Cleaner, eternal foe of dirt kind.
Finally, Dave arrived at where he was called. He rang the doorbell, and a young man answered the door.
“Oh! You must be the cleaner we called!” said the man.
“What’s your name again? Just to get familiar.”
“Dave,” he replied through a somewhat grit-toothed smile.
A young woman appeared beside the man and said, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Dave! You see, our basement needs a serious cleaning, and our neighbors told us to call you! We’ll be back at 9:00! Good luck!”
Just like that, they drove off, leaving Dave to his work. Right away, he noticed that the house was nice. Very nice.
“This place isn’t bad, actually,” Dave thought to himself as he headed down. “Hopefully their basement is just as - DEAR GOD!!”
Unfortunately for Dave, the basement was covered in grime, and it seemingly hadn’t been cleaned in months.
“WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED HERE?!” Dave cried out, utterly terrified by this landfill of a basement.
Dave knew he had his work cut out for himself, so he got his tools and started to clean, scrubbing down every nook and cranny and leaving no spot uncleaned.
About halfway through Dave’s cleaning, a haunting chuckle echoed through the basement. Dave was understandably put on edge by this.
“Who’s there?!” he shouted into the darkness.
Suddenly, what appeared to be a sentient patch of grime appeared before our horrified hero.
“Ahh… So THIS is the fabled Psycho Cleaner! I’ve heard many stories about you,” said the Grime Ghoul. “However, this is where all your stories end! As you shall PERISH before my grimy clutches!”
Suddenly, as the Grime Ghoul cackled before him, it all came back to Dave, those endless nights, dirt and soot everywhere, dust always in his face, the true horror of it all. Suddenly, Dave let out a blood-curdling screech as he tore out his brush and bottle and prepared for a fight to the death. The battle was legendary, one to be heralded for generations to come, a battle so nerve-wracking, so intense, and so hair-raising that it could stop one’s heart.
A battle in which the Psycho Cleaner was victorious.
“Oh, what a night!” the woman exclaimed to her fiancé as they walked back into their house.
“You said it, baby,” the man replied. “Hopefully that Dave guy is done with the cleaning.”
They made their way downstairs to find the basement utterly spotless, and Dave in the middle panting like he survived a war.
“By God, it’s simply immaculate! Thank you so, so much, Mr. Dave!” the woman said to him, and Dave only responded with an aggressive nod.
The man gave Dave his payment and bid him farewell. As Dave rocketed away in his van, he knew that this was all in a day’s work for the Psycho Cleaner.
Comments