Quick and Dirty (standard:Psychological fiction, 2550 words)
Author: Devin B. Wieland	Added: Oct 06 2005	Views/Reads: 3440/2362	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Quick and Dirty follows the decline of a mentally unstable 25 year old. In short, this man believes he must return to kindergarten in order to get his life back in order. But things don't go so well when he tries to spend a day at Greene Elementary.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

nervous about being the oldest kid in class by roughly 20 years, but I 
didn't want to be late. So I grabbed my briefcase and started towards 
the group of children. Before I left my apartment, I had emptied my 
briefcase of it's usual contents and replaced them with a pencil and 
two different colors of pens, along with a box of crayons. At least I 
would be prepared. It was a chilly day, early in the fall, and many of 
the kids had hooded jackets on with the hoods tied tight under their 
chins. When I got closer to the doors of the school I got in line 
behind all of the children waiting to go in. I thought about trying to 
make conversation with the kids around me, but for the most part the 
whole lot of them seemed quite immature. 

Once inside the old brick building the children quickly made their way
into their classrooms. I tried to join several of the classes, but a 
quick look into the rooms showed that all the chairs were full. I saw 
many teachers in the rooms, and I envied them. They had paid attention 
in kindergarten, and now they were teaching children what they had 
learned. I thought that that might be something I would like to do 
after I learned what I needed to know. 

Classes were going to start soon, and I knew I needed to find a class to
join quickly. But whenever I tried to go into a room, the teachers gave 
me strange looks and it made me uncomfortable. So when the morning bell 
rang I found myself in the halls of the school, alone. But I came here 
so that I wouldn't be alone anymore, and I wasn't going to leave 
without the answer. 

That's when I realized that this whole idea was ridiculous. The kids in
those rooms were learning valuable information, and they would never 
let someone off the streets wander into the classroom. I was about to 
give up and head back to Arby's, when I heard someone whistling behind 
me. At first I thought I had been discovered and I started to walk the 
other way, but then I realized that it wasn't the type of whistle 
intended to get someone's attention. I spun around to see that it was 
just one of the janitors whistling a carefree tune as he swept his way 
done the hall. I got a good look at him before he disappeared around 
the corner. The man was wearing a dark blue shirt and matching pants. 
He was older than me, but not by that much. 

There was still one way that I could get myself into one of the
kindergarten classes. I looked all around and didn't see anyone 
watching, so I decided to follow him. I walked slowly to the end of the 
hallway and looked around the corner. I looked just in time to see the 
janitor open a door halfway down the next hall and go inside. I could 
still hear him whistling, so I knew he must be alone. 

I saw my one opportunity at this moment, and I jumped into action. I
crept noiselessly up to the door the janitor had opened and looked 
inside. It wasn't a classroom, only a cleaning closet. The janitor was 
digging in a large bin for some sort of cleaning utensil that he 
couldn't find. I went into the closet and closed the door behind me. 
Mr. Clean (that's what I called him) heard the door click closed and he 
turned around, surprised, and faced me. 

“Howdy! Can I help you?” He asked. I saw for the first time that he had
a mustache, and he was older then I thought. After taking a good look 
at him, I answered. “Yes, yes...I'm going to have to ask you a favor.” 
“Well, I can't guarantee that I'll be of much help. Mostly I just do 
the cleaning around here. But what do you need?” The closet was small 
and there was barely any room for either of us to move. Before I told 
him what I needed, he added, “Say, open that door will you? It gets so 
darn hot in here.” I kept staring at him and didn't move. “I need your 
shirt.” “What's that?” “I just need to trade clothes with you, Mr. 
Clean.” I slowly inched closer to him as I began to unbutton my collar. 
The only way to slip into one of those classrooms unnoticed was to be 
disguised as someone who was normally there. “Whoa, son. We've got 
rules about what goes on in the cleaning closet. Now open up that door 
and tell me what you're talking about.” Mr. Clean started moving from 
side to side, trying to find a way around me. But the closet was 
cluttered and he couldn't go anywhere. By now we were both sweating, 
the janitor was right, it got pretty darn hot in there. I had him 
against the wall now. “Please, just give me your shirt. And don't 
worry, I'll give you mine. Do you like my shirt?” I think he would have 
used force at this point, had he been a bigger man. But he wasn't, and 
he knew he didn't have any options.” Now he stammered when he spoke. 
“Your shirt looks fine. But listen, I'm not giving you any of my 
clothes. And don't touch me!” 

Normally I'm nice to people and I do what they ask me to. But Mr. Clean
didn't know what it was like to not know the kindergarten secret. I 
could tell by looking at him that he had known it since he was little 
and it had made his life wonderful. So I took out my letter opener and 
held it behind my back. Then I grabbed Mr. Clean's collar and pushed 
him into the wall. I got close to his face and I could see the sweat 
condense and start running down his face all in an instant. I asked him 
one more time to trade clothes with me. But instead of answering, he 
started to struggle and tried to pull my hand off his collar. In one 
motion I threw his hands to the side and stabbed him. He started 
gasping and went limp in my arms. I continued to hold him against the 
wall as he bled. But soon his body became to heavy to hold up and I let 
him drop to the floor. In one terrible instant I realized that his 
clothes were ruined, the shirt that I needed was badly stained with 
blood. 

With all my plans ruined, I turned to leave the cleaning closet. Coming
to Greene Elementary school had been a bad idea. But leaving wasn't 
going to be easy. The blood wasn't only on his clothes, it was getting 
to be everywhere. And worst of all, it was leaking under the door and 
out into the hallway. I grabbed a mop from the shelves and tried 
frantically to keep the blood out of the hallway, but I couldn't keep 
up. 

There was nothing I could do. So I through the mop back into the closet
and slammed the door. As I was leaving I took one last look at Mr. 
Clean's body, I noticed that I should probably think of something else 
to call him because he really didn't look like Mr. Clean at all. But 
that didn't matter then. I walked quickly down the halls and I intended 
to leave the building the way I had come in. But I did what you should 
never do when you're trying to leave somewhere fast, I glanced behind 
me. To my horror I saw that I was leaving red footprints everywhere I 
went. In a moment of panic I went frozen with fear. I had to leave 
before anyone saw me or the body of Mr. Clean, but I couldn't move. I 
felt weighed down by the fact that I now had blood on my hands, real 
blood dripping off my fingertips. 

The bell rang. Time for recess. Chattering children spilled into the
hallway. I watched their heads as they followed the red footprints. 
Then their eyes rested on me and they became silent. No, things 
wouldn't be good for me. 

-Two Years Later- 

All of that happened a long time ago. The police followed through on
their warning, and I've been in prison ever since. I tried to tell them 
why I needed Mr. Clean's clothes, but all that got me was moved to a 
different part of the prison. 

I spend most of my time here alone, which gives me plenty of time to
think about what I did. Sometimes I dream that there's blood on my 
hands, and no matter how much I wash them or rub them I can't get it 
off. When I wake up from these dreams, I get out of bed and wash my 
hands, then I can go back to sleep. 

The truth is, I don't mind prison life. But the wardens (their uniforms
remind me of Mr. Clean's) tell me that I'm scheduled to die soon. And 
this bothers me only because I wish that I had found out the secret of 
kindergarten during my lifetime. 

Once I was told that I was going to die for what I had done, I wrote a
letter to my nephew, who is five years old. I sent it to my brother's 
address, but since it's from me he probably won't let his son read it. 
He should, though, because in the letter I caution my nephew that he 
should pay attention during kindergarten. That way there will always be 
people in the chairs at his breakfast table, and he won't have to go 
back to kindergarten when he's older to find out what he missed. I 
don't like pain, and I was afraid that it will hurt when I die. So I 
asked the prison warden what it will be like. He told me this, “Don't 
worry, no one lasts longer then a few seconds. It will be over before 
you know it.” This made me feel better, because now I know that I won't 
have to feel pain for a long time, it will be over fast. Quick and 
dirty. 


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