The Globule (part 3)

There was no question. I was going to pick it up, lift it near my face and peer upon its’ vulgarity.

I got myself some plastic gloves and put them on. I was ready.

I looked down into the sink filled with regret for something I had not yet done. The globule had slid itself under some food debris in the very bottom. It leered up at me, mostly hidden.

I slowly reached down into the sink and brushed the debris from it. It was soft and squishy as I pinched it into my hand. Its’ size surprised me. It hadn’t looked that big when it fell. I was expecting a giant loogie at most, but this was something far more wretched.

I brought it up close to my face, as close as I could stand, then immediately lowered it back down a bit as I processed what this could possibly be. I was disgusted by the fact that it was still in my hand. My first thought was that it looked like a bit of after-birth. It was pink and fleshy. Why was I holding this? A chill overcame me and I flung it back into the sink with resolve. It must be washed down with the other junk. It was filth. It was vile.

I turned the water on to its’ full pressure and quickly glanced at things washing down the drain. I felt as if it might infect me if I looked at it too long. I turned the water off and walked away. The gloves I was wearing were quickly thrown in the trash, then I scrubbed my bare hands with plenty of soap and hot water.

I thought I must put it out of my mind. I questioned why I even decided to examine it in the first place. What a disgusting thing to do. I went back to work.

…

I got back into routine, helping customers, restocking, cleaning. I regained my comfort, forgot about the globule. But eventually I made my way back to that sink.

I was going around with some new gloves and cleaner, scrubbing all the sinks like every night. I got to the steel kitchen sink and found a few inches of water resting in the bottom. “It must be clogged.” I thought.

The water was a murky gray and I couldn’t see the cause of the clog, so I reached down in and felt around the drain. I swirled some particles out of the way and the water began to ebb. I waited and watched as the bottom of the sink was revealed.

A choking horror overcame me as I spied the globule wet and glistening, covering most of the drain. It hadn’t washed away! It was still here! I must be rid of it. I went to reach for it, but stopped. Gloves were not enough. I walked to the paper towel dispenser and tore off a square. I strode back to the sink, determined.


I folded the square to create layers, more distance between the skin of my fingers and the perilous soft pile. I peeled it from the drain, making a horrible face. I nipped it into the paper towel firmly, turned and flung it into the trash. It mustn’t remain inside.

My hands protected by gloves still I hurriedly tied the trash bag closed and lifted it from the bin. In a state of calm panic I strode to the backdoor. Heart pounding, I clopped my way down the stairs and headed across the parking lot in the darkness. It was brisk and I saw my breath puff out before me. I imagined the globule breathing slowly, warmly inside the bag I carried. My pace quickened and finally, I reached the dumpster. I lifted the lid and heaved the bag into the dank blackness. The bag echoed a loud thud.

I would not be a part of this thing, this globule.


THE END

The Globule (part 2)

It was ten after, twelve after. I acquired some new ideas. It was twenty after. Dana gave up and left with boldness.

Finally I had some time to dedicate to cleaning. Cleaning dishes, tables. Taking out trash, recycling.

I got to the glass recycling and began routinely rinsing the bottles before I tossed them into a large blue bin.

I picked up a big green bottle. I held it under the running faucet, tipped it and poured it’s contents into the deep, steel kitchen sink. Water glugged from the bottle in spurts. I held it completely vertical and watched the liquid gush out.

Then it stopped.

I could tell from the weight of the bottle that it still had quite a bit of water in it. Why did it stop flowing suddenly?

The green bottle drought lasted perhaps five seconds. Then a most revolting thing occurred. A mucousy globule slipped slowly from the opening and plopped into the sink. I froze in a state of absolute disgust. The muscles in my throat contracted. A sickening tingle swept across the entirety of my nerves. My eyes focused intently on a patch of wall. I swallowed roughly, inhaled slowly and collected myself.

I wanted so badly to leave it, disregard it as nothing, but I had been so instantly intrigued, though I had only viewed it for a moment. It must be examined.

The Globule (part 1)

It’s been busier than normal tonight. I got into a dull lull earlier. It was four-o-clock, it was four-thirty, it was five and still I had nobody to serve. I didn’t mind it much though, I was feeling rather lazy. Getting lost in the virtual world that was nesting in my phone.

Some people came in. They wanted this or that. I gave them this or that for this and that price. It repeated, once, twice, countless. I was overwhelmed.

I came to a point of decision. What to do? Dishes are overflowing. I have none to give out. Do dishes, ignore customers? Ignore dishes, do customers…or rather serve customers?

I chose to serve. The dishes piled up to great piles. But I found myself lost to obligation at the encounter of a regular, Dana, who had come to meet a blind date she’d been matched to on the internet. We chatted. Then chatted some more. She checked her phone, asked me a question and forgot my answer before hearing it.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the messes I needed to clean up. The glass recycling, in particular, seemed to be calling much attention.