(no subject)
[ Today, Death the Kid has been rather upset. Somebody dared track in dirt to his beautiful lobby (read: castle's lobby.) On top of that, all of the furniture was out of place, and upon closer inspection, it all needed a good polish as well.
If he were home, he'd get somebody else to do the cleaning while he rearranged the furniture. But as this was not home, and because he didn't trust the ghosts to handle such a delicate task, today found Kid in the lobby wearing rubber gloves, his hair covered a black and white checkered bandana, with a myriad of cleaning chemicals, spray bottles, buckets, brooms, dustpans, and a single mop in the lobby, cleaning like a well-oiled cleaning machine.
He has all of the furniture pushed off to the side to be rearranged later.
It's all pushed off to the side symmetrically, though.
Hope nobody was planning on using that lobby today.
The journal's open for Kid to listen, though it also picks up the sounds of him cleaning, and a small mantra under his breath. ]
Filthy, filthy, filthy.... I've got to make it clean... Clean, clean, clean....
If he were home, he'd get somebody else to do the cleaning while he rearranged the furniture. But as this was not home, and because he didn't trust the ghosts to handle such a delicate task, today found Kid in the lobby wearing rubber gloves, his hair covered a black and white checkered bandana, with a myriad of cleaning chemicals, spray bottles, buckets, brooms, dustpans, and a single mop in the lobby, cleaning like a well-oiled cleaning machine.
He has all of the furniture pushed off to the side to be rearranged later.
It's all pushed off to the side symmetrically, though.
Hope nobody was planning on using that lobby today.
The journal's open for Kid to listen, though it also picks up the sounds of him cleaning, and a small mantra under his breath. ]
Filthy, filthy, filthy.... I've got to make it clean... Clean, clean, clean....