I just woke from 13 hours of exhaustive sleep and now I’m huddled over the bathroom sink, shoving a toothbrush in and out of the putrid hole in my face.
“He has risen!” my sister mocks. She posts up inside the doorframe. She points, “Do you know what that is inside the rim of the toilet bowl?” I swivel my head. It’s speckled with shit stains. “It makes me gag when I try to clean it. Would you like to?” I swivel my head back into the sink and continue brushing my teeth. I pause for effect,
“I would like to clean it!” My sister laughs. I am funny to her.
“I will give you five bucks if you clean it.” I don’t pause this time.
I am a goddamn custodian.
I didn’t pause because of my secret. A secret only yet known by me and apparently my subconscious: I am saving up so I can get out of here.
“And when Grandpa gets here this week he’s going to piss all over the seat and the floor.”
“I’m going to be rich!” My sister laughs. I am funny to her.
Piss away Grandpa.