Mr. Clean and his Cobweb Duster
In the last episode, we left Mr. Clean with the two girls, Sonata and Aria, in the old motel apartment complex. However, there was one thing we forgot to mention… That was not the only adventure that was had up until that point. Since it is integral to the plot, please allow the story to continue.
Mr. Clean walked down a deserted alleyway. He came to this alleyway every day to test his cleaning skills. This place was one of the very few places on this planet that could resist his cleaning abilities. That is until he perfected his newest product: The Cobweb Duster with All-Powerful Abrasive Action. It was still in the development phase, but it would not be much longer before it was ready to grace the public’s filthy homes. Just a few more tests were in order.
He found a deviously disgusting trash can, dripping with putrid fish grease and thousand-year-old marmalade. He took out his all-new Cobweb Duster and dusted the trash can vigorously. It violently shook, alarming Mr. Clean.
“So, you want to fight back, do you?” he exclaimed. “Well, then. TAKE THIS!!!”
Mr. Clean dealt a very powerful hit against the trash can, and his duster let out some of the dust from its frilly mass. Suddenly, a figure appeared to come out from the trash can. It was a woman at the age of possibly her early fifties. Her face gave the appearance of a ninety-year-old man. Mr. Clean let out a cry of hapenis.
“Madam, may I be so bold as to say that you are like a chinese restaurant floor, disgusting and grimy, yet hiding a great beauty down below. May I ask what your name is?” Mr. Clean said in a deep bear-like voice that could break the sound barrier.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to my face, you clean bastard. My name is Principal Cinch,” she answered.
“SO!!!!!!, you’re a principal? I thought that they would at least afford to live in a cardboard mansion.”
“Well,” the woman replied, “I used to be a principal. But Principal is also my first name so… yeah...”
“Oh, that is quite unfortunate. Whatever happened, my beautiful dead cactus, flower of the desert wastelands?”
“Well, these bastard children robbed me of my job when I only pressured my star pupil into taking magic drugs from an alternate universe consisting solely of magical ponies. So they fired me and I was evicted from my cardboard mansion. I live in this trashcan now. It costs me a foot and a leg so I took them from this girl named Adagio Dazzle. She died of chickenpox and was rotting in the back alley for a month. I had some of her for dinner last night.”
Mr. Clean was full of pity for the poor lass. “Oh, my vegan pineapple upside-down cake. My heart goes out to you. I suppose I have something that will interest you.”
Principal Cinch raised a noodle filled eyebrow. “What are you talking about, my bald companion cube?”
“It is an offer you simply cannot refuse. You will be rich, clean, and famous across all of Africa!”
“Go on, then! What is it?”
“Are you legally considered a senior citizen?”
= = = = = = = == = = = = = = = === = == = = = = = = = = = = = =-= == === =
The two of them were stationed in the attic of a shut-down Arby’s/Gas station combo. This was to be the site for Mr. Clean’s research and development of his new item. And this time, he hoped to perfect his Cobweb Duster.
“I know all the kids are into cougars these days, but why are we in this dusty place?” Principal Cinch queried.
Mr. Clean smiled and shouted, “The dirtier the place, the better we can demonstrate the cleaning power of my Cobweb Duster. It will be amazing to see how sparkly this attic will be once we have finished our research. Well… my research.”
“Whatever you say, Mr, Clean. I just want to get this over with and get paid.”
“I want you to strip everything but your underwear,” Mr. Clean commanded.
“Well, my bra only has one cup because I used the other to drink water from the sewer.”
“Do it! It doesn’t matter.”
She did as her master ordered. She took off all her clothes and she had a giant, moldy, beating wart the size of a watermelon where the bra cup was missing. It stared at him and wobbled menacingly as if tempting anything to dethrone it as the most horrifying thing on this side of the Nile. Mr. Clean was happy. It was enough to make a grown man cry and commit suicide slowly by sticking splintered toothpicks under his toenails and kicking a brick wall until he bled out. But it was up to Mr. Clean to rid the world of this crime against nature.
“It is time, my soon-to-be-clean dirty thing. Prepare to witness the true power of Mr. CLEAN'S COBWEB DUSTEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!!!!!”
He booped it with the tip of his duster and the wart fell off and scurried off into the ventilation system with an angry hiss. Principal squealed in delight as the twenty-pound parasite was finally extracted from her porous skin. Mr. Clean laughed and gave himself a pat on the back with his duster.
“That was amazing! How did you do that?!” Principal Cinch moaned.
“Nevermind that,” he said as he readjusted his sunglasses, “We still have a long, hard, veiny way to go.”
Mr. Clean readied his Cobweb Duster and started dusting off Cinch's face. She started to cough as clouds of dust flew around her. Once the dust settled and gave a view of her face, Cinch looked about thirty-five years of age. Mr. Clean held what looked like an expensive mirror in front of her, and she gasped. She felt her face with the still old hands she had and it felt like touching a new bar of soap.
"H-how did you do this?" Cinch asked.
Mr. Clean smiled a sparkly-clean smile and said, "Why, working in a school, earning below desired wages can stress someone to look about 50 years older than one would expect. The power of my Cobweb Duster not only dusts away dirt, it also dusts away your stress and unhealthy lifestyle."
“Wow!” said the now visibly younger woman. "I had no idea your products contained such magical properties."
Mr. Clean dusted the rest of her body equally as much and the wrinkles in her skin were almost non-apparent. The underwear she had on conveniently disappeared as well. (As we all know happens in order to keep the 'plot' going.)
“What’s going on here,” Principal exclaimed.
"THAT, my dear antioxidant paper towel soda can, is the true power of my Cobweb Duster! For the low, low price of $89.99, it can be yours now. But with my coupon, you'll only have to make forty-two easy payments of $42.42!" Mr. Clean said with a blinding smile of clean, epic proportions.
“That’s not what I meant,” Cinch said, rubbing her forehead. “I feel like I’ve forgotten something for a really long time and it’s just now coming back to me.”
Realization pimp-slapped Mr. Clean in his butt chin. “A very unexpected side effect. I had no idea that this was within the capabilities of the Duster’s repertoire!”
“Do you know what it means?” she asked him, with pleas in her eyes.
Mr. Clean flexed so hard his shirt evaporated, then condensed into a small cloud made of wool. Then the wool cloud started to rain a bunch of little tiny sheep no bigger than a very crushable cashew. The little sheep scrambled away in every direction. The ones that went towards the ventilation were met with hisses of rage. “It means that we must go deeper! We must see what this duster can accomplish! What it will reveal about itself… and YOU!”
Principal Cinch screamed because she could.
“Now is no time for doing an impression of Shelly Duvall’s character, Wendy Torrance, in the movie The Shining when she was getting attacked by her husband, Jack Torrance, who was played by Jack Nicholson. We have work to do! Remember you’re getting paid $11.32 a month from this!”
“Amazing!” she cried out. “I haven’t seen that much money since my stripper days about twenty-six years before the first World War!”
Math was not Mr. Clean’s strong suit, so he merely smiled and said. “It makes perfect sense for you to be alive during that time! Now, would you be so kind as to provide me access to your harbor, my lovely number 2 pencil that was sharpened so much that it is incredibly awkward to hold, let alone write with?”
“Of course I will,” she nodded like an epileptic snake. She sat upon the grungy carpet and spread her legs wider than peanut butter on toast. A spider crawled out of the crusty canyon before him. A harsh fiery breeze galed out of it and Mr. Clean was assaulted with foul vapors too terrible to comprehend. It was like a solar flare erupting from her frontal volcano. His sunglasses smoldered into a fine ash, but luckily he had on another pair underneath to shield his vulnerable eyeballs. The hair on his bald head receded and his lips chapped so bad that he needed some chapstick.
“Holy sardines and mustard, Batman!” Mr. Clean exclaimed, “I thought this attic was filthy, but it seems I have been ambushed by a greater enemy!”
“Are you up to the task, sailor?” Principal asked with a hint of a challenge in her tone of voice.
Mr. Clean narrowed his eyes, half to shield him from the blinding sight before him, half in sheer determination. “On the contrary, I was born for this!”
“I don’t think that’s how you use that wo⎼” Cinch was cut off when Mr. Clean lunged at her with his long duster.
The tool struggled in his grasp, but he guided it forcefully with both hands. The gusting winds threatened to blow him off his feet, but he still managed to fight forward. With an almighty flourish, he dipped his duster into the dustiest of ancient catacombs.
“Is it in?” she asked, glaring down at him.
He looked at her in turn with fear in his eyes, “I don’t know.”
Suddenly, the trap sprung and the tunnel grasped his duster with the force of eleven freshly cleaned dump trucks. “SON OF A FRUIT PUNCH SPILLED ON EXPENSIVE WHITE CARPET!” he cried in pain. Mr. Clean’s Cobweb Duster was crushed in the enemy’s fortress. He tried to yank his beautiful tool free, but the door had shut far too tight. “Let it go!”
.“I don’t know how!” Cinch exclaimed, “I’ve never used it before!”
Mr. Clean came prepared for a moment like this, however. Within his other hand, he held a set of pliers. He clutched the handle of the duster with his other mighty tool and yanked it so hard, Cinch's body vibrated to the point it created a loud sound that broke the sound barrier. It caused his ears to bleed.
“Behold!” Mr. Clean exclaimed. He pulled out his dusty duster with an audible POP. It was so gunked up that it looked like he had dunked it into the mysterious fluid that perpetually lingers in the depths of a public dumpster. The clean man had never been pushed to this level of disgust before. Suppressing his very good gag reflex, he activated his Cobweb Duster’s mechanical revolution function. The duster spun like a drill and the nasty funk flew off in every direction like a disgusting cheese sprayer. Principal was completely unfazed. Clearly, she had been filthy so long that gross things no longer bothered her.
Mr. Clean was getting quite pissed right now. He said through gritted teeth, “I am getting quite pissed right now!” This indescribable crudity seemed to be combating his cleaning prowess with every attempt.
Cinch sighed and got to her feet. “Use that anger, Mr. Clean. Use it to fuel that sparkly clean fire deep within the heart of your heart’s soul.”
Mr. Clean took a deep breath, three lungfuls at once. He closed his eyes and took off his glasses. In a surprising turn of events, there were no other sunglasses underneath. “You’re right. I must awaken that which I have hidden deep within for thousands of years even though I am only in my late twenties or so.”
He opened his piercing peepers and they glowed a vibrant neon blue, just like his Mr. Clean Meadows and Rain scented Multipurpose Cleaner. An aura the same color as his hair surrounded him like a blazing blaze. That’s right, he was going Super Sand Lesbian version 1.1.2 minor text debug patch (cit. see Dragonz Ball PeePee by OneyNG on YouTube).
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH…(thirteen hours pass)...HHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHHHAHAHHJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJGHAGHUGHOOF!” Mr. Clean screamed in one lungful of breath. He inhaled to scream again, but Principal Cinch put a finger over his three lips.
"DUST ME OFF EVEN MORE, MR. SHWEE- I-I mean Clean!" Cinch screamed.
Mr. Schween smirked, and the aura channeled into his Cobweb Duster. It swelled in size to the proportions of an albino elephant with a giraffe welded to the top of it. It glowed a fuchsia color because it could. “Here it comes!!! I won’t hold back even if you ask me to!” he yelled calmly at max volume.
“I wasn’t asking!” Cinch yelled at him.
Mr. Clean started to spin the Cobweb Duster in a spiral motion, spinning it so that it spun up to the reasonable speed of Mach 13. Rings of green radiation emanated from the duster’s tip, blasting her into the far wall. The dust shockwaved away from every pore, every crevasse, of Cinch’s nudie patootie. That wasn’t enough to slake Mr. Clean’s thirst for revenge. “More!” he bellowed, piling on more force. “MORE!” The rings increased in frequency until it was just a solid green beam of crackling clean energy. Principal could no longer be seen or even heard inside the solid laser.
There was no telling how long it lasted. It could’ve been fifteen minutes or fifteen seconds. Mr. Clean’s beam dried up, his duster losing its stamina and falling to the ground. His skin was scorched and he collapsed to one knee, his vision swirling.
The wall that Cinch blasted through was completely eviscerated, revealing the city skyline of Canterlot, Africa beyond. Dawn rays were just starting to rise over the horizon. In the swirling white clouds before him, a figure rose.
“Are… are you okay, Principal Cinch?” Mr. Clean asked in a ragged voice. He coughed as he attempted to climb to his feet.
The girl turned to him, now looking like a nineteen or twenty-year-old girl. “I… I’ve realized who I really am…”
Mr. Clean gave her a quizzical look, “What are you saying?”
“My name isn’t actually Principal Cinch,” she turned to him, a peaceful smile on her face, “I’m actually Sunny Flare. Cinch was the principal at my old school.”
Mr. Clean scanned this revelation with his brain molecules. There was something up here that he had failed to notice.
"My mind was actually poisoned by the filthy trash I always had to live in. Because my mind was warped, I had thought about my principal, and for some reason thought that I was her," Sunny said.
"So you pulled a Cloud Strife?! But he's a dude. Don't tell me you're also-" Mr. Clean said before getting interrupted.
"I'm clearly naked. I am female through and through. Do you see a dick? I'm also 22, so this whole time there were no illegal acts performed on me."
"Oh, thank God!"
"Who's God?"
"On the contraband, my dear electrical sock puppet honeybee. I almost forgot your paperwork, but since I see this was clearly consensual, I will have no need for such trivial stuff." He coughed once more, falling weakly to his hands and knees. Princi- er, Sunny rushed to his side in worry.
"You alright?" Sunny said to him while hugging him from the side.
"I'll be alright, but I feel like I have something that needs to be done. I have some Unclean thoughts that need to be cleaned before I can see you again,” he told her in his gravest voice.
“What are you talking about?” Sunny asked in alarm, withdrawing from him slowly.
He looked up at her and his irises shifted from blue to yellow like a villain in Kingdom Hearts. “You see, Trash Poisoning is contagious…” He smiled and rose from the ground, hovering in the air. He floated to her and streaked a finger along her cheek. A line of dust lightly covered her supple skin organ.
She collapsed to the ground in fear. “You are no longer the man I once loved,” she cried, tears slipping along her face. “But I will wait for you, until the time when you return to the side of cleanliness.”
"Ah, but things aren't always meant to be simple and clean."
"When you walk away, why can't you hear my pleas?" she asked as if she were asking a question, which she was.
"I'm hovering, that doesn't even work!" he said, grimacingly. Then, he flew away like the majestic dodo.
Sunny Flare cried tears for her dearly beloved, who was on an uncertain path.
=*-_-*= An indeterminate amount of time passes... =*-_-*=
He walked along a dark hallway, running his fingers along the grungy walls, leaving slightly dirty streaks in their wake. His eyes pierced the dark like a predator and he was on the hunt. For what, you may ask? No, you should be asking, “for who?”. Or is it ‘whom’? Regardless, he arrived at his destination, a room with the door barely hanging ajar.
Suddenly, a man’s voice said from inside the room, “However, that is not the issue at hand in this very moment of time right now. Someone is watching us… in person."
The bald man whirled around to face the doorway, a squeegee pointing accusingly at Mr. Clean. He merely laughed from the doorway. His target crossed his arms as two bare naked ladies hid behind his muscular mass.
“Who are you, stranger?” the man accused accusingly.
“Oh, on the contrary,” Mr. Clean interjected prematurely. “We are well acquainted, you and I. You see…”
He stepped forward, wearing a wide grin and uttered, “There’s no clean like Mr.⎻”.
