Once upon a time, in the magical land of Detroit, Africa, there were two bald parents having a baby. They were both extremely muscular. As Mother Clean heaved and pushed, a muscular full-grown man was birthed from her bubbly rectum. He was a man so amazing and bald that he could blind the innocent with the sheen from his perfectly clean head. Mother Clean and Father Clean smiled at their new 20-year-old son, but they were not proud of his life choices. For the second he was born, he was sporadically famous for selling illegal cleaning supplies.
As the years went on, he didn’t age, but he grew cleaner along with more muscles. While he was extremely good at making cleaning supplies, he was not very good at selling them. So he had a part-time temp job as a security guard at the local film studio. While there, he met a director’s daughter who lusted to be on the big screen. Mr. Clean saw this as the cleanest opportunity to sell his products. With her at his side, he created the most glorious commercial ever to grace the eyes of a three-year-old. Within minutes after first airing on public television, he became a wild success. Sadly, two minutes afterward, Juniper Montage left him for a magic mirror. Mr. Clean was distraught.
This is where the story begins.
He was done making the perfect commercial that would boost the sales of his wondrous products, but something was missing. He needed something that would sell his products twice as well. Something that would capture the attention of a much wider audience. But where would he come across something so amazing?
He began searching through the alleyways within the town near Canterlot High School. There were bound to be people around who would be perfect to test his new product. The amazing ten-inch squeegee was an amazing product with a large variety of amazing feats. There just might be a chance to find the proper candidate around. You’d think that working as a security guard would have given him the right kind of experience to find the right kind of girl for the job, but being the head of a company proved to be just as difficult when trying to find the slender, beautiful female specimen.
Just as the beautiful man turned a corner, he ran into a beautiful girl. Unfortunately, the orange-haired beauty was missing a leg and her head was twisted at an awkward angle.
“Drat, fouled again. Why are all the good ones merely corpses that cannot perform in my wonderful commercials?” he mumbled. With that, he continued down the twisting alleys of the city, searching for the perfect inspiration.
After fifteen and three-quarters of a minute, he heard a loud crash. “AGHAST!” he said calmly, “A wild Equestria Girl appears.”
A blue-haired girl peaked out of a nearby dumpster with a taco in her mouth. “Um… who are you and how did you find my secret layer?”
“My fair, dirty maiden,” Mr. Clean announced with his sparkly voice, “I am the answer to your prayers, for I will raise you from filthy rags to filthy riches.”
Her eyes darted to the left and right as if she wasn’t sure he was talking to her. “O….kay….”
“You doubt my authenticity?” he asked.
“Well… a bit. We’re in an ally with no one around and I’m just twenty.”
“Perfect.”
“Wow, that’s not a creepy thing to say at all,” said the girl, sarcastically.
“Ah, I apologize if what I said sounded rude. The actresses for my commercials need to be eighteen or older. I promise what I had in mind was nothing more than the satisfaction of you confirming the legal issues surrounding my business.”
She lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “I’ve been living on my own for four years so I’m not as dumb as I used to be. You’ll have to be more clear if you want me to go with you or I’m staying right here. And if you pull anything funny, I have a gun and about six-hundred used tampons in here for self-defense.”
“Maybe you’ve heard of me. My name is Mr. Clean. I sell the best cleaning products in the world.”
The girl gasped and dove back into her dumpster. When she resurfaced she carried an old bottle of dish soap. On it was Mr. Clean’s immaculate form wearing his signature white tee and a winning smile while crossing his arms. “OMGOMG, This is you?!”
“The one and only!” he stated, cleanly.
“Why didn’t you say so before? This is like the only good funtime material I’ve got! I, like, worship you!”
“Yes, many a-lady have said the same thing, but YOU will be the lucky candidate.”
He stroked his squeaky-clean chin with his perfectly smooth hands. He pulled off his sunglasses to reveal he had on a second pair underneath. He threw the pair of perfectly good shades against a brick wall, shattering them. Mr. Clean had a wide smile on his face. He threw his arms out to both sides and screamed a manly, clean shout of excitement.
He pondered for naught but a single spotless moment then said, “I know just what to do!”
The girl was getting pumped from the idea of working with her handsomely clean idol.
* * * * *
Mr. Clean and the girl found their way into what appeared to be a run-down apartment complex, but it was filled with so much coarse dirt and mold, it seemed unfit to house anybody, even someone who couldn’t afford a cardboard mansion. This was just the sort of place Mr. Clean was looking for.
“We can make this dream a reality. This is the moment my 10-inch squeegee can bathe the world in its eternal glory.”
“Um, Senpai Clean? This place doesn’t look so kawaii-desu… I’m scared.”
“I will hold you tightly, my beautiful vegan porkchop.”
“Maybe I would feel just a tad better if there was some other light than that glow-in-the-dark Magic Eraser.”
“Ah, I see. I will see if I can remedy the situation. In the meantime would you fill out this form stating that you are indeed eighteen or older and consent to any and all scrubbing, cleaning, squeaking, and etc. pertaining to the glorious production of this commercial.”
“Uh….” she looked down at the paper he handed her. “Okay. But will you be long?”
“Yes and no.”
He left her in the room with a confused look on her face. The front desk was located across the motel parking lot; so he proceeded to head there as he went across and found his way over to the place he was going, which was the front desk, which he approached as he journeyed there. Mr. Clean called for someone to aid him at the front desk, but to no avail, for there wasn’t anyone in sight. He wandered about for a little while until he stumbled upon a supply closet. Once he opened it, there was a girl cleaning a valve with the very product he had sold for just that purpose. She looked up at him with an angry look.
“What are you looking at, suds?! I know who you are, but that doesn’t mean that I have to give you anything. I’m also twenty-one years old, so anything you think about doing will not be, in any shape or form, pedophilia.”
Suddenly, inspiration struck him like an abusive husband striking his wife. If he did two commercials at once, he would reach twice the audience and thus sell double the squeegees! It was an infallible plan. He just needed to convince the young lady to go through with it. He suspected this would be his only opportunity.
“Well, I see you are quite good at sticking your hand into that pipe and scrubbing.”
She spun and fixed him in a stern glare. “Uh-huh. What’s it to ya?”
Mr. Clean smiled and crossed his arms. “I have a job proposition for you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“Not interested,” she said, “I’ve seen your little ‘commercial’ for the Magic Eraser. I don’t know how it got past the censors but that was some really messed up shit.”
“But clearly the advertisement worked. You are using the Eraser in this very moment,” Mr. Clean said with a smooth smirk.
The girl shook her head. “Just because I bought the thing doesn’t mean I wanna help sell them. Especially if I have to exploit myself like that other girl in the commercial. What was her name, Juniper something?”
“Ah, It is not so much exploitation as a genuine experience. Nothing of what was seen on that ad was rehearsed. It was the real deal and she loved cleaning that filthy place as much as I did.”
“I think I’ll pass,” she said and returned to scrubbing. “I’ve already got a job and they pay me $0.15 an hour which is pretty damn good in this economy. So, you should go find someone else to help you make your pornos.”
Mr. Clean furrowed his muscular brows. This girl was tough to convince. If he was going to get her to aid his plan of being the most wealthy seller of cleaning supplies, he would need to take desperate measures.
“Perhaps you need a demonstration of my newest product?”
“A demonstration?”
Suddenly, ten long, hard inches of squeegee were produced before her. It shimmered in the light like a mystical sword from a hi-fantasy novel. The image of pure perfection. The tip dripped with sudsy goodness. She could see a rainbow in them as they fell on down.
“Th… that’s not gonna c-convince m-me,” she said as her cheeks turned a violent shade of red.
“It already has,” Mr. Clean said with a wink.
She came.
* - * - * - * - * - *
After turning on the girl and the breaker for the lights in the apartment, Mr. Clean returned to where the blue-haired girl was waiting. He opened the door with a grand flourish, and the girl screamed. Mr. Clean realized that he scared her with his magnificent entrance, so he calmed her down by telling her that she needed to shut up. She did.
“Now, girl, give me the form I gave to you earlier,” he said as he snatched the clipboard from her hands. “Ah, I see. ‘Sonata V. Dusk’. What does the ‘v’ stand for?”
“You don’t wanna know, because you might find it to be very dirty,” she answered, shyly.
“TELL ME!” he whispered softly.
“V-Veronica...”
“By GOD! That’s a hooker’s name! I must cleanse you of your wicked evil!” he said, seriously.
He whipped his enormous 10-inch squeegee, so the sad times started melting away. (Cit. Listen to the song ‘Enormous Penis’ to get a better understanding of this specific sentence.) He started to rub it on the clipboard to erase the ‘V.’ that was once her middle name. He looked over to her and smiled.
“What is your middle name, Sonata?” he said with a smirk on his face.
“What are you talking about? I don’t have a middle name.”
Mr. Clean’s product had worked perfectly. He was filled with so much enthusiasm, that he nearly forgot to further exploit his 10-inch squeegee. He went behind Sonata, grabbed both of her upper arms, and began to scrub his 10-inch squeegee against her skirt.
“Mr. Clean, how is this anything like the previous product you showed in your last commercial?” Sonata said with disappointment.
Mr. Clean knew there was more to this squishy squeegee. He kept rubbing until it started to phase through her skirt. It was so long, it was able to reach her coin slot with no problem. This was currently the pinnacle of his cleaning products, so he had to make the best of it. He rubbed aggressively between her inner thighs. Sonata squealed and squeezed her thighs together. Doing so, however, caused the squeegee to empty all of its suds down her legs and onto the floor. This surprised Mr. Clean.
“My my! This was unexpected. You are better than I had precipitated. You are the perfect candidate for this product!” he said in a Mexican accent.
“Are you sure your squeegee just isn’t good at holding it in?” she asked dubiously.
“Oh it can hold loads,” he growled as the cleaning utensil prepared for another round of cleaning.
“Prove it,” Sonata challenged.
Mr. Clean adjusted his glasses and commanded, “Turn around and prepare your tacos. Your fajita is gonna get grilled.”
“What does that even me-” she was interrupted by the sudden intrusion in her waterworld.
Thrusting forward with renewed vigor, he gave her the slippery slide of a good time he envisioned his customers had when they cleaned their stovetops with his products. It was like a ripe orange being squeezed into a nice pulpy juice: satisfaction.
Sonata looked over her back at him. “So- uhn- what is- uhn- this- uhn- part of the- uhn- commercial- uhn- supposed to- uhn- represent- uhn-?-UHHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!”
The scream was so intense that it broke his sunglasses which revealed yet another pair underneath, which also shattered. That, in turn, caused a tragedy that could not be mended. I regret to inform you of the audience that one single strand of Mr. Clean’s handsomely pure eyelashes was broken into many shards during the second glasses’ shattering. Please remove your hats and stand as we mourn the passing of another great legend in the annals of history. Please sit as we recite this poem to relieve those who are in tears(whose tears are also crying). :(
What caused something so great and true
To break something that could grow back, too?
Something broke in the minds of my heart,
that caused me to really have to fart?
So unsure of what may be,
when an eyelash dies on Mr. Clean,,,,,,,?!@#$
Amen.
Announcement:
We now return to your favorite clopfic…
“To answer your question, Sonata, that part was to represent the power behind the cleaning technology inside the ten inches of cleaning miracles. Wooooooooooooooo!”
“Okay?” she replied questioningly.
“I want you to now feel the full force of my 10-inch squeegee!”
The squeegee grew longer than the ten inches that was said before. It grew to twenty… thirty… fifty inches long. Mr. Clean grew some clean Magic Eraser wings and flew through the roof of the apartment they were in. Sonata was unhappy that she was being left down in the apartment all alone. She cried to him, and the bubbles emitting from the squeegee lifted her up to him. He gave a blinding smile as she licked the remnants of his broken eyelash. The eyelash began to shine brightly as the squeegee began to burst.
“NOOOO! YOU MUST GO! YOU AREN’T READY FOR THIS KIND OF CLEANSING POWER!!!” he mumbled under his breath.
“I’M READY! I CAN DO THIS! I’VE PRACTICED DURING THE PAST THREE WEEKS FOR THIS MOMENT!!!” she yelled.
Mr. Clean shook his head up and down in slow motion with his beautiful head of hair bobbing in a sexy fashion. He let the squeegee do its job, and the sky was soon turned into a beautiful explosion of suds and kuhmn.
* * *** *** * *
“What in the diddly yoohaw is taking that bald musclehunk so long?” Aria asked as she sat on a chair in the room next door to the one Sonata and Mr. Clean currently occupied. She had a hole in her panties from her little demonstration. Her come had spurted out like a waterjet, tearing the fabric asunder and making the floor quite sticky. No man had ever made her feel that good and she had been with her fair share of men. Probably around one and a half men to be precise.
There was an explosion from outside. She ran to the window and threw open the sash to see the raining bubbles that fell with a splash.
“What the Tartarus?” she cursed. “This could only be the work of Mr. Clean…”
As if on cue, the bald beauty emerged through the fog in the parking lot. His white tee-shirt was now a white croptop and his pants only had the legs remaining. His ten-inch squeegee was standing aloft, making her drool a little.
When he entered the room she went straight to him. “What were you doing out there, and what happened to your clothes? And why is it raining bubbles out there? Wasn’t it clear and sunny just ten minutes ago?”
Mr. Clean halted for a moment. There was a chance that revealing that he had been with Sonata may cause her to become so jealous that she may no longer wish to do the commercial. He had to think quickly.
“I was simply preparing, my low-calorie wheat chip,” he said with a smile. “I wouldn’t want to take too long or the scene won’t fit into the allotted commercial time.”
“Took you long enough. I was starting to get impati- I mean, whatever...” Aria said. She obviously didn’t want Mr. Clean to know that she was awaiting the 10-inch squeegee to enter her seaside cave.
Mr. Clean handed Aria a contract like the one he had given to Sonata. Mr. Clean looked up at the ceiling and said in a low moan, “LUCK BE IN THE AIR TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“What?” Aria asked as she held the pen in place.
“Shhh! No need to ask me of such trivial matters.” Mr. Clean said while holding a finger over her mouth. “Now, my beautiful summer vegetarian phone cord, keep writing.”
Aria blushed a bright red when Mr. Clean said these things. She looked away as she said, “Baka!”
“I don’t speak Portuguese!” he retorted.
When she finished signing, she handed the contract back to Mr. Clean. He was very excited as to see what she had written. Alas, she had a middle name as well.
“What does the ‘B.’ in ‘Aria B. Blaze’ stand for?” Mr. Clean questioned.
“B!#(h!” she answered.
“Surely, that cannot be true,” he screamed at the top of his lungs, quietly. “I promise not to make fun of your middle name.”
Aria’s inverted water hose started to drip when she heard that, so she answered with, “It’s actually Brogglesnuff. Just kidding, it isn’t either of those. It’s actually Brenda.”
Mr. Clean’s life flashed before his eyes. He had known someone named Brenda from his hometown.
* ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *
Brenda was a girl at his old school.
* * * * * * * * *
As Mr. Clean came back into realization, he looked down to see that Aria had the squeegee in her mouth. She took it out and said in a nervous tone, “I couldn’t wait. Your first commercial was kinda grotesque to me in a way, but I think that having me here is a huge improvement.”
“Grotesque?! You must be joking! I must punish you for making such an accusation!” he said as he picked her up and duct-taped her to the wall. He held on tight to his squeegee and began to rub vigorously. As time flew by for a few minutes, he built his hand motion up to mach speed.
“Wh-what are you doing?!” Aria screamed.
A jet of white sudsy goodness shot out of the squeegee like a cannon and blasted Aria into the room on the other side. Luckily, it was a room opposite to the one Sonata was in. However, Sonata wouldn’t hear the noise due to being too mesmerized to do anything. Mr. Clean was grateful for this convenience. He looked over at Aria, who was now lying on the ground with her clothes conveniently disintegrated with the exception of her undergarments.
“What doth thou sayeth about thyself’s previous thoughts of my cleansing capabilities?” he asked, questioningly.
Aria couldn’t believe that she was somehow enjoying this, despite the way she felt about the commercial, so she told Mr. Clean the truth, “I can’t believe that I am enjoying this, despite the way I felt about that commercial.”
Mr. Clean was happy to hear that she now comprehended the true force of his amazing cleaning supplies.
“This is just a free trial, but I will give you an offer for the real thing. For just $0.01 off, you can get the 10-inch squeegee for a low price of $49.98.” he said in a clean voice.
“I-I want three of them! Please! In this economy, that is such a great price, since our president, Ditzy Trumpet, is lowering taxes for the middle class!” she screamed.
Mr. Clean grabbed Aria and took her to the janitor’s closet where they met. If he was going to do this commercial right, he would have to do it in a place with as much grime as it did. When they got there, Mr. Clean took his 10-inch squeegee and slapped it across Aria’s face, causing a clean streak to appear where the squeegee had made contact. Aria felt her face, and it was smoother than a shiny new car. She held onto the squeegee and slapped it repeatedly across her own face.
“Such enthusiasm,” Mr. Clean said, proudly.
Once her face was completely shiny and new, she proceeded to finish off the rest of her body, but Mr. Clean stopped her in her tracks. He held both her arms down and forced her on the ground.
“I must clean out your closet before we continue!” he said.
The squeegee began to spin in a propeller-like motion. Sparkling water and rainbow suds flew everywhere, cleansing everything without falter. Once the squeegee slowed down, suds slowly trickled off the ceiling and down the walls. The ceiling was gone, letting in the perfect sunshine to gleam off his perfectly clean smile. Without having realized it right away, Mr. Clean accidentally tore down the wall separating the room he and Aria were in and the one Sonata was in. Aria glanced over to a clean and nearly unconscious Sonata. She puffed out her cheeks and her face turned red in anger.
“Oh, when were you going to tell me you were doing a commercial with HER?!” Aria exclaimed.
Mr. Clean started to sweat his Clean Freak Mist cleaning product. He had to think of a plan, quickly, in order to save his very clean commercial. Suddenly, Sonata shook herself out of her daze and looked over at a very slick Aria and Mr. Clean holding his squeegee. Sonata got up and stared down Aria, even though she had no idea what was going on. Aria and Sonata marched over to each other, but before anything could be done, they both slipped and fell to the floor. They were doused in multi-purpose cleaner.
While the two were groaning from the pain of falling, Mr. Clean had an epiphany much greater than what he had at the beginning. He pulled off his sunglasses and threw them across the room as fast as a really fast-moving object.
“Grah! I have had an epiphany of magnitudinous magnitude. Behold! My trap card! This clean deul is at an end, Kaiba!” Mr. Clean shouted in a quiet loud voice.
The girls exchanged awkward glances. “Um,” Aria spoke up, “Who is Kaiba?”
Completely ignoring the question, he let out a manly chuckle. “Ha ha ha!” He readied the squeegee one more, gripping it with both hands. “You will both be in ONE SUPER CLEAN COMMERCIAL,” he told them at an entirely reasonable volume that made their ears bleed.
“We didn’t agree to this!” Sonata told him. “We’re sisters so this is very weird!”
“Just don’t make eye contact! It’ll be fine, my sweet sweet gluten-free soda substitute,” Mr. Clean explained.
Aria looked at him with disgust and said, “I was right about you. Your commercials are horrible.”
Mr. Clean took off his sunglasses once more and smashed them under the grip of his clean, manly hands. A single tear rolled down the side of his face under the sunglasses he was wearing. When the tear hit the floor, it cleaned a square foot of carpet. His hands started to bleed multipurpose cleaner from the plastic he crushed under his manly grip.
“You cut me real deep just now, Aria,” the manly man stated in a manly voice like manly cleaning supplies. “And here I thought you were with me because we shared a common interest: cleaning.”
Aria walked up slowly to the muscle-bound bald dude. “I-I’m sorry. I do like cleaning… but just, not in the same way as you…”
This caused Mr. Clean to cry so hard, his tears punched her in the face. As she rolled on the floor, grasping at her bruised cheek, Sonata approached them in all of her slippery nakedness.
“Enough you two!” she snapped. Mr. Clean had never been commanded like that. He found it surprisingly arousing like whenever he used his wet and dry mop to reach hard-to-reach areas.
Sonata walked between them, “You want to make a good commercial, right?” Mr. Clean nodded. She turned to her sister, “And you want to be cleaned, right?” Aria took one glance at the three square inches of dirt on her backside and nodded vigorously. Sonata smiled, “So, then? How about we make the best dam commercial we can make!”
“This is a commercial about cleaning supplies, not dams,” Mr. Clean interjected.
Sonata giggled, “Oh right. My bad.”
Aria picked herself up off the ground and shook her head. “Fine, I’ll do it. As long as you make it worth it.”
“Deal,” Mr. Clean smiled. “Now, let’s clean those bruises off of you.”
He walked over to Aria and wiped the bruises off her face with his squeegee. She started to blush. Mr. Clean thought for a moment. About what, you ask? About a girl he made his first commercial with.
“What are you thinking about?” Aria asked.
“About the girl I made my first commercial with,” he told her.
{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}
Juniper Montage stood before him, her legs long and beautiful, and her smile like a crisp gala apple. There was a rose-colored filter over the scene and rose petals rained upon them from the sky.
“Juniper, my love! We have been going out for quite some time now and I have an important question to ask of you!” Mr. Clean spoke in a suave voice like a romantic dude from a soap opera or something along the lines of that line of thinking. Soap opera fits because soap is clean.
“Oh!” Juniper fell into his arms, “You are such a strong, muscley, clean, handsome, bald, piece of man meat! I love you like I love the boundless ocean… that is your range of cleaning products.”
“Of course, my sultan salt cake of Arabia. Everyone gets my products at a low price, but they must keep an eye out for my exclusive offers. But not you, you get my cleanliness for free.”
Juniper smiled, “Oh I do love you ever so much!” She planted a kiss upon his sparkly lips that tasted like lemon-scented Lysol. But it wasn’t Lysol because it was Mr. Clean.
Suddenly, a creepy, hunch-backed man in a tattered cloak walked up to them out of nowhere. He was terribly unclean. He stared squeegees at Mr. Clean like daggers.
“I am better than you,” he told the bald muscley manly man.
Juniper took one look at him and said, “Okay, I believe you,” and left Mr. Clean forever.
Rain began to fall instead of petals. Mr. Clean dropped the ring he was hiding in his left armpit. His clean left armpit. It was the first time Mr. Clean ever cried. But it was not the last….
(.)(.) (.)(.) (.)(.) (.)(.) (.)(.)
Mr. Clean sobbed like the infant he never was. Why would a stupid mirror take his only love away? But the story digressed. Aria and Sonata sat on either side of him standing up. They were eye level with his 10-Inch Squeegee.
"I know what will cheer you up," Aria and Sonata said. Suddenly, Aria started to rub her butt against the slippery shaft, and Sonata rubbed herself on his clean back.
Mr. Clean took off his sunglasses and wiped the tears from his sunglasses. “Thank you, girls. You two really are very sweet. However, you are both acting very… unclean right now.”
“Watcha gonna do about it?” Aria challenged.
Mr. Clean’s gaze hardened as he grinned. That wasn’t the only thing that hardened either. He chose that moment to seize Aria and pierce her pothole. She let out an “Eep!” as his large wand was too big of a fit. Like trying to fit an escalator into a bottle of shampoo. Either that or she was tighter than the bonds between me and my bros. You couldn’t even fit a needle in there.
“Oh my cuss word!” Aria shouted. “You’re too big!”
“I know,” Mr. Clean smirked.
Sonata noticed the issue and said, “I know what will help!” She took careful aim and peed a stream right onto his squeege machine. Mr. Clean frowned and punched her in the Eve’s Apple.
“I did not give you permission to soil thine spotless bod. I will now clean you like a foul skidmark on the underwear of society,” he bellowed at a normal volume.
Sonata and Aria were both gasping for air in very different ways. Aria had managed to slide her queef chapel halfway up his ten hard inches of scrubbing power. Sonata climbed to her feet brushing off the pain like the dust atop a bookshelf.
Suddenly!
Out of the rearview mirror affixed to the side of Mr. Clean’s sunglasses, he noticed a sudden movement.
“Wait a minute girls. I think we are being watched,” he declared. Aria moaned like a dying whale.
“You mean aside from the thousands of people watching this commercial?” Sonata asked.
“Wait!” Aria said, unimpaling herself. “Have you even been recording this?”
“But of course,” Mr. Clean sparkled, “My sunglasses have state-of-the-art third-person perspective camera lenses. They can even record at 115p resolution!”
“Wow! Impressive!” Sonata exclaimed, clapping her cheeks.
Suddenly, Mr. Clean’s voice grew gravely serious. “However, that is not the issue at hand in this very moment of time right now. Someone is watching us… in person."
He whirled around to the doorway, his squeegee pointing accusingly at the newcomer. The silhouette in the doorway laughed. Mr. Clean crossed his arms as the two bare naked ladies hid behind his muscular mass.
“Who are you, stranger?” Mr. Clean accused accusingly.
“Oh, on the contrary,” the strange man interjected prematurely. “We are well acquainted, you and I. You see…”
The shadowy silhouette stepped forward, but the camera did not show his face to raise suspense. He wore a wide grin and uttered, “There’s no clean like Mr.⎻”.
To be cumtinued...
