Your Name Is Greg Day!
Your name is Greg and you clean up after orgies. You get paid 70 dollars to show up every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning at 11 AM and clean the floor of all of the spilled wine, cubed cheese, and other. You've never seen one of the orgies in person, but you used to know somebody who went to a few.
"That was when I was involved with a particularly crazy older lady by the name of Grace," said your former girlfriend's Uncle Leland. "I do have to say that it was interesting. But not every thing that is interesting is necessarily something that I'd ever want to experience again."
Your girlfriend at the time, she got excited to finally hear the inside scoop. She was intrigued by your job and was always excited when you told her about a particularly hard-to-explain puddle or when you showed her trinkets like cufflinks and compacts that you found during your morning sweep. "Were the girls pretty, Uncle Leland?" she asked, nearly bouncing on her couch cushion.
"To give you an idea," Uncle Leland said. "The next time you walk into town, take note of the first thirty-seven people that cross your path. No matter who they might be. I want you to imagine exactly those thirty-seven people scattered about a meeting hall in various states of fornication. That will give you an idea of the range of physicality that you'll find at the Modern Living Party."
That's what they call it, The Modern Living Party. Not that you've ever even seen an invitation. You're not with your former girlfriend anymore. No girlfriend to speak of at all at the moment. You can't afford a girlfriend with a cleaning man's salary.
Right now you're tired on your couch from this morning's work. On your coffee table is a locket with a little boy's photo inside. You know the little boy, cause he's you. Or was, when you were six. You found it this morning cleaning underneath a barstool. You have been planning to find new employment for about six months. And right now, staring at that locket, you really regret not having stepped on the gas with that job hunt.
Happy Your Name Is Greg Day!
