“There’s nothing quite like the sour smell of rotting lamb intestines, leaking bile and blood all over the floor, especially when combined with the forest-fresh scent of Pine Sol.”
During the last stream, we spun the Wheel of Prompticality, and we had to ombine two prompts from the Discord channel: a first person story written by someone tipsy, they gradually get drunk, and the writing gets more and more illegible AND a beloved child actor can’t find work and has to do odd jobs.
Watch the full video here, or scroll down for the story.
Here’s what we came up with:
There’s nothing quite like the sour smell of rotting lamb intestines, leaking bile and blood all over the floor, especially when combined with the forest-fresh scent of Pine Sol. And this isn’t just the regular Pine Sol you can buy at your local Walmart, this is the good stuff. Professional grade Pine Sol that’s 40% stronger than regular Pine Sol. You can smell the difference. I’ve lost 40% of my cilia, the fancy name for nose hairs, thanks to huffing this stuff. That’s the power of Pine Sol, baby!
I actually don’t mind the stench. It’s nothing compared to other jobs I’ve had over the years. You ever been behind the scenes on a porn set before? You’d better thank whatever god you sacrifice to that you can’t smell those videos when you watch them. A full day of sweaty people slamming against each other in a single closed room, no ventilation, body fluids everywhere. It’s like sitting in a truck stop restroom in West Virginia, except at least there you have your privacy. On the set, Gus the Gas Station Attendant is right there, naked in all his hairy glory, watching you do your business with a grin on his face.
It wasn’t always this way though. Back in the day, in my teens, the worst thing I’d ever smelled was slightly-damp Benjamins I was paid for my acting. I started off as the cute kid on the family-friendly sitcom Life on the Stoop, all about one family’s moral struggles in New York City. It was only thanks to my catchphrase “Stoop to my level!” that anyone watched the damn show. Thankfully its cancellation coincided perfectly with my puberty, and suddenly I was the heartthrob of all teenage girls in the nation. The covers of Tiger Beat, Seventeen, YM, I was shirtless and ripped on all of them.
Until I turned eighteen, and found out my agent and parents had run away with all my money. I thought they’d been setting it aside in an account for me all these years. Turns out they had, but it was an account that they loved dipping their slick fingers into themselves whenever they wanted a new car, a new trip to some stupid country, or—in the end—a brand new shiny divorce. All I got was a heaping helping of childhood trauma, and a one-way ticket to Gus’s furry fudge factory.
Now twenty years and fifty-pounds of love handles later, I’m a cleaner. Normal cleaning jobs don’t pay nearly enough for my liking—or my beer belly’s insatiable appetite—so I work one that’s a little bit… deviant. I pick up after certain organizations conduct certain rituals that may or may not vary in legality. I keep my mouth shut, they keep their wallets open, it’s a symbiotic relationship. You know, like the lichens. What the hell is a lichen anyway? Some sort of moss crap? I bet I could scrub it off of a rock with nothing more than my fingernails and a bottle of Wild Turkey.
Anyway. Looks like my clients did a pretty sloppy job with their latest sheep shindig, as I like to call them. Usually there’s some blood stains or black spots that I try not to think about too much, and I can just soak those suckers right out with the steam vac. But these guys must’ve gotten a little too enthusiastic. The organs still pink and bleeding into the cracks of the hardwood, and white fluff is everywhere. I can only hope that it’s from the sheep and not some old woman who got scalped or something. I like being able to at least have plausible deniability with my work. Maybe I could just say they got a haircut? You know, why don’t I try getting into the haircut business. That was always my favorite part of acting, the makeup and prep beforehand, chatting with the stylist. Good stuff. People always need haircuts, you know? I could be good at that.
I’m not sure if it’s the cleaning fumes or the third can of Natty Light sloshing around in my system, but I feel like I’m starting to see things a lot more clearly now. Or is it my fifth can? I’m holding one, and there are six on the ground, so I must be at, like, my second by now? Everything just kind of makes more sense. You know?
I could’ve really been something, you know? If I hadn’t been royally f-ed up by everyone, then maybe I wouldn’t be here right now, scrubbing piles of pixie dust for pennies on the dollar. I had dreams. And hopes. I could’ve followed them, but no, everyone had to drag me down and suck me dry, then leave me bloated and ready to die.
Isn’t that right, Pine Sol lady? I can see her right in front of me, dancing in the stars, her beautiful braids shining in the light of the galaxy. Kinda reminds me of Aunt Jemima, just as sweet and nowhere near as messy. Why haven’t I ever noticed her before? I’ve been here for hours. I guess I didn’t have the courage to say hello. Well, all that changes now. I’m done with not living my best life anymore!
I swag over to Miss P, and she’s already smiling and expecting me. Weird how there’s like more of her now, though. Well no worries, because there’s plenty of me to go around! They all come closer, circling me, with their bright smiles and fresh pine-scented cleanser from the future. Her breath holds the secrets of the universe, and I can smell the meaning of life.
She holds out a bottle just for me. New stuff, fresh from the factory. Lilac Pine Sol. Cleans the inside and outside new as a donkey whistle. Her words are spicier than Flamin’ Hot Cheetos from Hell. How can I say no? I grab the bottle from her and chug a dug dug three men in a rug! Goes down smooth as sandpaper and twice as quick, I tell ya these P’s know where the coals are burning. And they are hot.
Too hot.
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Featured image: GAHAG (edited by me)