A Serenade For The Innocent 40 A Man Who Does All The Cleaning

"Huh?" She uttered before discreetly moving his gaze towards his direction so that she wouldn't get the Janitor's attention. "Holy s.h.i.+t, do you think he did that on purpose?" She then discreetly moved his head away from him while covering the side of her face with her hands.

The Janitor's meat dolls are not wearing their masks on where their head should be; they're wearing their it on their shaved scalps instead.

"I don't know," I responded with a chuckle. "I don't even know how he made them wear it. The mask has no strings."

"I think he glued it on the poor flesh s.h.i.+ts." She said with a worried tone but with a disgusted expression.

"How will he take those off their heads then?" I said while leaning my head on her ear so that she could hear my low whisper.

She slowly moved his gaze away from them with an expression filled with utter disgust painted all over her face. "You clearly overestimate him if you think he'll put up the effort of taking the masks off them. Even if he can take it off, I bet he'd find it too troublesome to do it, anyway."

I silently observe the Janitor somewhere behind a ground of masked individuals so he wouldn't be able to see me looking at him. I want to see what he would do, but I don't want to take the risk of having a conversation with him.

When he finally reached the center of the ring, the stone platform had already descended, which means that he can finally do his excellent work on the burned body of George as it laid there like an overcooked kebab on a large wooden stake.

Finally, he's about to do the only redeeming factor he has.

He opened his mouth. No, it's not like how we do it. When he opened his mouth, a hole appeared on his face the size of a six-year-old child, which made everyone see his blackened teeth, even the deep crevices of what lies within. We even saw his throat lurking beneath the darkness that rested on this gigantic mouth of his, revealing every sort of cavity and dirt sticking all over the pinkish flesh within the confines of this ma.s.sive hole he called a mouth. His spit was like a thread of a spider web that connected every dirt-filled corners within. When he opened his mouth, his chin stretched until it turned almost translucent, but oddly enough, the skin on his face was st.u.r.dy enough for it to withstand having his jaw expands downwards until it reaches his waist. As a further effect, it stretched out the rest of the skin in his face, making the hole in his nose bigger; it also stretched the skin around his eyes, which made it seem like it would pop out of his anytime soon.

Finally, with his mouth agape wide with the shape of a toilet bowl, he chomped on the body of George along with the stake that came with it. He continued munching on everything "dirty" in his sight. Afterward, he started licking the burns and blood smeared on the floor with his plastic-like tongue. Usually, he would need to get off his meat dolls to lick the ground, but just like his mouth, his mouth was way longer than the average length. Thus, he could lick the ground on top of his skinheads. With all that, there is no need for him to get off his meat doll while he eats everything around him. Well, he doesn't like it when people call this eating; he prefers to call it cleaning.

Soon, whatever remains of George's burned body is no more. The stake is not there as well, and George's blood is not smearing the floor compared to how it used to earlier. It was once red with the blood of my old friend, but now, it's returned to just another stone floor. Perhaps the Janitor's saliva has an added detergent because the way he cleaned the floor is flawless. The only thing that remained is the small hole in the ground where the Ringmaster stuck the stake. Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.

With his mouth still open wide with everything inside his mouth, he slowly crushed everything within by gradually raising his jaw, squas.h.i.+ng George's burnt flesh with the wooden stake, making them a single ent.i.ty inside the Janitor's large toilet-bowl-looking mouth along with a thick layer of his spit. When it was all turned into a ma.s.sive pile of ground meat with a bit of a wooden chunk, he took his backpack and spat everything on his mouth inside of his bag, making it stretch even further, perhaps tearing a bit of fabric in it as a consequence. We could all see that his spit is slowly dripping from every hole that it could penetrate through. Nonetheless, the Janitor still wore it even though it could feel his spit smearing his back. Maybe that's why he doesn't want the hood on his hoodie; he wants to feel his spit covering everything on his back.

Now his job is done. 

Everything is clean. Everything is flawless. Everything is eaten.

Everything except George's head, still with the pained and the sad expression he had before the death performance he showed us, which is quite a terrible performance considering how he doesn't scream or shout at all in his last moments. I carried his weight throughout that execution... like I always did.

The Janitor noticed this, and he quickly headed towards the direction of the head by kicking the head of the meat doll, who was back bending on his right side, unmoving and mute, before it felt the familiar tattered shoe on its synthetic skin. He was about to approach the severed head somewhere on the edge of the ring.

"Stop, Janitor!" The Ringmaster exclaimed from somewhere around the Caravan. I couldn't quite see him because of all the surrounding people, but I could feel the authority he exudes in his voice. "That head is mine. You cannot take it. That is not trash."

Head? Does he want to keep George's head? For what? Sometimes, the Ringmaster does things that I cannot explain, but I guess that is the charm of everyone in the Organization.

"Head?" The Janitor spoke as he turned his head around the Ringmaster. "Oh, that made me remember about the bust of Nefert.i.ti that they said they found somewhere in an archeological site in Egypt but did you know that the bust is not real and just another fake artifact that a lot of people used to hype Egyptology even though there's really nothing else it could..."

He went on and on, and by the time he opened his mouth to speak, everyone scoffed in utter disgust.

"Ugh..." I sighed. "I think I'm gonna go."

"s.h.i.+t..." Veronica responded with a depressed tone as I heard the Janitor now explaining why Indiana Jones is a terrible archeologist. "If only I'm not doing anything for the Organization later, I would definitely leave with you."

"... I mean, why is he not asking the people who are living inside those sites their permission first before taking and robbing the treasure inside those sites, like, come on, think about it, man, he's supposedly a genius. Still, he's not too much of a genius to understand the proper procedure that archeologist must take in order to scientifically and ethically conduct their whatever research on their whatever archeological sites, but none only is Indiana Jones a lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but he's also a grave robber that would cause the problem to his university if he keeps continuing his..."

And he went on and on, causing a great deal of discomfort to everyone listening.