The Cleaners


Sven Eastwood and Tuna shine in their roles in the action packed hit series coming your way, The Cleaners.
These two are not ones to waste bullets.
I have heard others refer to them as ghost makers, contractors and erasers.
All I know is I could not get my spring cleaning done without my eliminators.
Hang on a sec, my sister is yelling something.
"What's that Louisa?"
She says it's not spring.

"That is just an expression, Louisa."
Anyway, after the carpet caught on fire.
"Now what?"
Louisa says it is a rug and it did not catch on fire. There are just a few melt marks from the log that jumped out of the woodstove. And if we would keep the door shut we wouldn't have this problem. And maybe I should quit looking at the spots.
"Louisa, I am trying to tell a story."
Anyway, since I am in need of a new rug on account of the fire, I have been sprucing up the place in preparation for its arrival.
Everyday I try to squeeze in a little time on a specific task once I am done deleting all the advertisements for rugs in my email and I am finding that after I spend an entire afternoon on a project, like for example, the other day I scrubbed each and every rock on the hearth that Sven built underneath the wood stove. I was on my hands and knees for hours inhaling a mixture of bleach and soap, trying to figure out how to get up off the floor between the fumes and my knees each time I needed to move over to the next section or I had to refresh my bucket of rinse water. All the while, my sweet Sven and his buddy in the tux were in the loft, reading about the perils of slavery during the sixteen and seventeen hundreds.
I was picking up my supplies with shriveled fingers when one came down the stairs and then the other.
"That looks really nice," says Sven.
"Thanks," I said.
Tuna walked right on by and stopped in front of his dish so that I could give him a treat.
That evening I poured myself a glass of wine and walked into the living room to find Sven and his side kick had slipped in with a paper towel, a scraper and a spray bottle, which Sven was aiming at the glass on the woodstove door while his partner in crime nervously stood behind him as the lookout.
With one silent shot of blue fluid, the cleaners, finished off my project.
Except for the mess they made.
It reminded me of the time those two put the door knob back on the kitchen door after it fell off in my hand, not long after I had completed painting the entire kitchen.


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