CHAPTER 4
1173 Words
The moment I stepped out of Sir Leland’s office, I felt like all the joy in my life had been sucked out of me.
Seriously, what’s the point of living? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to be a hotdog?
Think about it.
If I were a hotdog, I wouldn’t have to deal with work, annoying coworkers, or the ever-looming threat of unemployment. I’d just be chilling inside a refrigerator, minding my own business, waiting to be eaten. Plus, I’d be a delicious, high-quality, scented hotdog. Not some cheap, artificial one, okay?
Sigh. If only life worked that way.
I dragged my miserable, soon-to-be-fired self down the hallway toward the janitor’s supply closet.
But, of course, the moment I walked past the other employees, they just had to start gossiping.
Some were whispering behind their hands, others were openly staring at me like I was some kind of rare species that had escaped from a zoo.
One woman—let’s call her Miss Nosy McJudgyface with some breathtaking personality—was looking at me like I was the absolute scum of the Earth. Her eyes were so sharp, I swear they could cut glass.
That was it.
I snapped.
“What are you looking at, huh?!” I yelled, planting my hands on my hips. “Want me to mop your thick faces while I’m at it?!”
Miss Nosy McJudgyface instantly looked away, pretending to be busy with her papers.
Hah! That’s what I thought.
I flipped my hair dramatically before continuing on my way.
Ugh. These people. They acted like they were stars in the sky, expecting me to look up to them.
Yuck.
But just as I was basking in my small victory, I turned my head and—
Oh. Crap.
Sir Leland was standing there, watching me with the most unreadable expression ever.
His eyes? Dark. Serious. Full of judgment.
I swallowed hard.
Oh no.
He saw my little outburst.
I am so dead.
He let out a slow, disappointed sigh, shaking his head like I was some misbehaving puppy.
I, on the other hand, continued walking like a frozen mannequin, praying that he wouldn’t call me back and lecture me again.
“Well, I'm not doing anything. I guess there's nothing wrong with upholding yourself, right? I am a goddess in this damn janitor's work, so they must pay respect to me though ,” I muttered under my breath, gripping my mop like it was a sword. “At least I fight back. Unlike some people here who only know how to act fake.”
But then, the second I stepped inside the janitor’s closet—
WHOOSH.
My foot slipped.
Before I could even scream, my entire body went flying.
And just like that—
I super-slid across the floor like an Olympic figure skater… and landed straight on my butt.
FUCK!
My whole soul left my body.
Pain shot up my spine, and I swear, I saw my past life flash before my eyes.
And yes, I was never a hotdog even back then , though.
What did I do to deserve this?! As if my life wasn’t already miserable enough!
Now, even the damn floor was conspiring against me.
I groaned and just lay there, sprawled out on the wet floor like a tragic movie protagonist.
The world had officially given up on me.
Maybe this was it. Maybe I should just accept my fate.
Who needs dignity anyway? Not me, clearly.
“Ugh, what the hell?” I muttered, staring at the ceiling in defeat.
The cold, wet floor was soaking through my clothes, and I could already feel my underwear absorbing water. Great. Just great.
And I knew exactly who was responsible for this mess.
Daphne.
That little drama queen!
With all the strength left in my broken body, I took a deep breath and yelled at the top of my lungs.
“HEY, DAPHNE!”
A few seconds later, Daphne appeared, looking as fabulous as ever—well, at least in his own delusional mind.
He had his hands on his hips, his brows arched so high, they were about to reach heaven.
“What now, witch?” he huffed, flipping his imaginary long hair. “I swear, Maurice, your voice could wake the dead!”
I shot him a deadly glare from the floor.
“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THE FLOOR?!”
Daphne gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like I just accused him of murder.
“Excuse me, RUDE! I was only doing my JOB, okay? It’s not my fault your cheap shoes have zero balance!”
Oh. Oh, he did NOT just say that.
I sat up so fast, I almost slipped again.
“Cheap? Look who’s talking! You should’ve at least put up a warning sign!”
Daphne rolled his eyes so hard, they almost disappeared into his skull.
“HELLO?! You think I have time for that? Unlike you, I have a very busy schedule.” He checked his imaginary nails. “I have to make sure my brows are on fleek, reapply my lip tint, and, of course, remind everyone that I am the STAR of this company.”
I almost lunged at him.
“YOU’RE A JANITOR TOO, DAPHNE!”
He gasped even louder.
“How DARE you?!” He pointed at me dramatically. “I am not just a janitor, I am a janitor with CLASS!”
Oh, dear Lord.
This is why we’re friends and enemies at the same time.
I pushed myself off the floor, dripping wet, pissed off, and questioning all my life choices.
Daphne, of course, was too busy admiring his own reflection on his phone.
“You ruined my day,” I grumbled, wringing out my wet shirt.
“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “You ruin your own day just by existing.”
I threw my dirty, soggy rag at his face.
Daphne screamed like a dying chicken.
“MAURICE! YOU RUDE!”
I crossed my arms, grinning. “Oops. My hand slipped.”
“Ugh! You’re impossible!” Daphne huffed, pulling a small mirror out of his pocket to check if he was still pretty. As if that would ever change.
Still, despite our constant bickering, Daphne and I had an unspoken bond.
After all, in the hierarchy of MCC, we were at the bottom.
We were both janitors, both poor, and both constantly looked down upon by the rest of the office.
But at least we had each other.
Even if it meant fighting like a married couple every day.
Daphne sighed, finally putting his mirror away. “Look, babe, you better fix yourself up. You don’t wanna look like a wet mop when Sir Fabian arrives.”
I blinked. “Wait. What?”
Daphne smirked, placing a hand on his hip. “Oh, didn’t you hear? The devil himself, Mr. Fabian, is coming back from his business trip today.”
My heart dropped.
SHIT.
That was sooner than I expected!
I was DOOMED.
- Writer
