Post by Pandora Owen on Aug 18, 2007 18:03:42 GMT -5
“Rather messy today.” Dora mumbled to no one in particular, “Oh look, there’s another large hole in the wall...lovely. And four new craters all in the lawn...just what I always wanted too! And just after I re-sodded it again. Stupid kids.” She didn’t trouble to keep her voice low, now that she was working over-time. There was rarely any time for her to go out for a run. Or to stalk students around the school and make sure that kids like Jordan Graham were kept in the detention room.
Pandora was sulking. She often sulked, but today she was particularly sulky, and for a reason, which made it even more special.
She didn’t like nurse’s office. She didn’t like it at all. Them and their shiny white coats, going around with medicines and needles everywhere they went. They had called her in to ask for a little cleaning in the hallways. There was this one kid, who had taken a liking to run around the school (in his speed power) and post posters of his lost dog everywhere; he just forgot that he wasn’t wearing his morning slippers and apparently the skin on his feet at rubbed off from all the friction. Moodily, she stirred the Styrofoam cup of coffee she clutched in one gloved hand. It was her coffee break. Not officially, but she was taking one because she couldn’t get to her favorite mop or her disinfectant (a couple had taken the time to make-out in the Janitor's closet). She was also considering going on strike, but she had a maudlin feeling that no-one would notice. She was also probably right.
This was just one more injustice heaped on her, of course. Clean this up, clean that up, there’s vomit in Exam Room Two – what was she, their slave? Some girl with nothing better to do than to clean up other people’s messes? Well, sure, that was technically her job description and what she had been hoping to be ever since high school, but they could be nicer about it. Geez.
Pandora was sulking. She often sulked, but today she was particularly sulky, and for a reason, which made it even more special.
She didn’t like nurse’s office. She didn’t like it at all. Them and their shiny white coats, going around with medicines and needles everywhere they went. They had called her in to ask for a little cleaning in the hallways. There was this one kid, who had taken a liking to run around the school (in his speed power) and post posters of his lost dog everywhere; he just forgot that he wasn’t wearing his morning slippers and apparently the skin on his feet at rubbed off from all the friction. Moodily, she stirred the Styrofoam cup of coffee she clutched in one gloved hand. It was her coffee break. Not officially, but she was taking one because she couldn’t get to her favorite mop or her disinfectant (a couple had taken the time to make-out in the Janitor's closet). She was also considering going on strike, but she had a maudlin feeling that no-one would notice. She was also probably right.
This was just one more injustice heaped on her, of course. Clean this up, clean that up, there’s vomit in Exam Room Two – what was she, their slave? Some girl with nothing better to do than to clean up other people’s messes? Well, sure, that was technically her job description and what she had been hoping to be ever since high school, but they could be nicer about it. Geez.
