Pre-Spring Cleaning

Pre-Spring Cleaning

Postby Treadwell » Tue Jan 28, 2014 7:15 am

The twenty-eighth day of the first month, 214.

The Myrken Wood Meetinghouse.


It is cold in Myrken Wood, as it has been these past few weeks.

Aloisius Horatio Treadwell, though, has to work despite said cold. It isn't that he cares to work or that he doesn't have things he would rather be doing, but it is that, quite simply, the Meetinghouse needs a good, careful cleaning.

Yes, cleaning!

Dusting shelves and polishing the meeting table and sweeping the floors.

Tossing out the very little food gone bad in the kitchen and pantry.

Even down to the details of straightening the little name plates on various office doors and carefully rubbing them and the doorknobs shiny and bright (and, yes, dry) with a spit-spattered handkerchief.

All in all, the corpulent councilman is quite the busy little fellow today, from after breakfast 'til after lunch, huffing and bobbling about after having finished the month's tax records this morning before breakfast.

Thus it is that the sweat-soaked, black-suited Treadwell finally sinks, exhausted, chest a-huff and heart a-flub, into his usual meetinghouse chair, sprawled out and wheezy, to snore soundly away for the rest of the afternoon and evening.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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