Cartoon Janitor's Lament

Well, another episode is over and they've done it again. Oh, sure, the problem is solved, and Toodles is back in his cradle, and the Clubhouse has folded back down into its eco-friendly hiding place underneath the "empty" field. But now that the cameras have stopped rolling and everybody has gone home, who's left to clean up? That's right, me.

I don't have a name. Well, I mean, I do have a name. But I might as well not have a name; nobody knows I exist. The Roll Call never includes me. I never get invited along on the adventures. Mister I-Built-My-Fortune-On-These-Big-Ears-And-This-Squeaky-Voice walks right past me like I'm not even there. Heck, I don't even get to hang out in the Clubhouse. No, no, don't mind me; I'm just the hired help. I'd never be interested in taking the Glove Balloon out for a flight; no, not at all. Not even a little bit. I'm only good enough to keep it clean...

I don't know, I just think a little bit of gratitude shouldn't be too much to ask. Heck, I'd settle for a moment's acknowledgement. Do you know what this place would look like without me? Do you have any idea?

Take this most recent episode. Oh, sure, the baby bird is back with his mommy, but I just spent the last half an hour hiking around in the wilderness. Why? So I could retrieve a slide, a pogo stick, and a baby-bird-sized blanket that all got left lying around when Ol' Round Ears and his buddies were done with them. Just... just stop for a minute, and picture trying to haul a thirty-foot-long yellow slide back through the forest. Got it? Now imagine doing that for minimum wage and no health insurance. There you go. Only if you're me, you've also got the blanket and the pogo stick stacked on top of the slide, because that's slightly better than making the hike over again.

::sigh:: At least I remembered to tape them down this time. When I first started this job, I would have tried to balance everything - and that never, ever worked. Stuff just kept falling off.

This week's not too bad, actually. A couple of weeks ago, the Clubhouse actually came apart... and I have never had so much trouble tracking down their litter. Honestly. A set of wrenches off in one place - with the car, I think. The Clubhouse airplane in another place. They just left it sitting there, you know? Along with a full-sized crane! How was I supposed to get that back to the Clubhouse, I ask you? At least they didn't leave the rocket floating out in space... and, just between you and me, I left the giant pacifier with the Giant. The boss won't mind; the Giant is a part of the show, and if that particularly Mousekatool keeps the talent happy...

Well, anyway. Speaking of Mousekatools, I'd also like to point out just how completely bloody useless the Mousekadoer would be if I wasn't down there organizing the underground storage every night. Honestly. They sing to the Mousekadoer to dispense the tools; they call for Toodles to bring the tools (not that I'm complaining about Toodles, you understand; the little guy works hard); but when it comes to the guy who makes the whole system possible, well... Not so much as a word of thanks for me.

It's just not fair, I tell you.

(If you have no idea what the Janitor is complaining about, there's a sample below the cut.)