Janitor Novels & Stories

Coming through it a few seconds later, Adam came to a stop in front of my desk. “I need you to find some files for me, then make some calls to set a meeting for next month.” Handing me a long list of instructions, he walked away. Going down to the files room, I searched for the twenty files that he requested before handing them to him. Going over to my office, I saw a Janitor that was rifling through my things. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “I was just cleaning up miss,” The janitor answered back weirdly. “Is there something wrong with your voice?”

I asked, closing the cabinet door before I cleaned the mess I made. “Well, we came from the city, as you know, and we would hire people to do all that. I never thought I needed to do that here. Good thing there’s a handyman in town to do the work,” he replied, making me laugh as I took a sip of the cold, amber drink.

I poise myself to attack. "Whoa, chill girl. I just want to talk," he tells me, his grin telling me the opposite of what he just said. "How the hell did you get in here, too?" I ask him. This is bad. This is really bad. Uncle Fern being here is horrible enough. Jon, too? "Well, I applied as a janitor the same time Uncle got the gardener job, and here I am. I have to say, for a fancy school, your security really sucks."

"No harm done." He walked past. The janitor froze. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Then he took a breath and called out, his voice louder than before. "Mr. Blackwood!" Vance turned. Nerissa turned beside him. The janitor was gripping the mop handle so tightly his knuckles were white. He was not looking directly at them. He was looking at the floor, at the bucket, at anything but their faces. "I just..." He swallowed. "Thank you. For the salary increase. For what you did for us."

In the hallway, a janitor stood cornered, trembling, clutching her mop handle like a lifeline. “You didn’t see anything,” Mark hissed lowly, stepping closer. “Say a word, and you’re next.” The janitor, barely a whisper of a presence in the company’s hierarchy, nodded rapidly, too scared to disobey. With another sharp command, Mark gestured to a massive trash bin that had been rolled in. “Push this down to the underground garage. Someone’s waiting. Don’t fall behind.” Pale as chalk, the janitor obeyed, maneuvering the bin into the elevator. Behind her, Mark made a quick call. The snippets she caugh

AFTER she had left, he called in a janitor through the intercom and he strolled in, it was a male janitor. He strolled in carrying a bucket and a mop stick. "Good morning Sir", he greeted, bowing slightly. "Clean up that mess", Oswald said to him, picked up the tea cup, saucer and spoon and threw into the trashcan close by, then continued with his work. "Okay Sir", the janitor said and got down to work instantly.

I turned and looked. In the small window in my office door, I saw the coarse face of our newest janitor, Neil. He had just begun as a janitor on our floor. He was a large, thoroughly annoying dude. Neil had this annoying tendency where he always insisted on doing the offices when it was at its busiest. Though today, it seemed like he wanted to interrupt my lunch break.

I’m crying because this might be the only child she ever gets to have. I’m crying because I should have protected her. I’m crying because… I hate the man I used to be. Something taps my shoe. I look down, eyes swollen. A mop. Then I look up. It’s an old janitor, probably late sixties. He’s short, hunched, with thick glasses that seem a little too foggy to see properly. His uniform is wrinkled, and his hands tremble slightly as he leans on the stick. “Oh,” I clear my throat and straighten. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be in your way. I’ll—”

“And it’s good stuff. It’s lemon Ice. You’ll like it.” I handed her the money. “Sally didn’t like it very much.” “Sally, who?” Carla asked as she shoved the cash into her pocket. She didn’t know or didn’t care that she had helped ruin two lives. After I found the source of the Ice, I had to turn her in to keep her from hurting anyone else. “What’s the janitor’s name, and what does he look like?” I asked. “They call him Rocky,” she said. “He’s got brown hair, and he’s tall and thin. And he always wears those green work pants like old guys wear.”

But she shrugged it off, not wanting to spoil their day with his antics. They all got into the lift, and just as the doors were about to close, they were joined by the building’s janitor, Mrs Henderson, who was carrying a mop and a bucket. Alessia greeted her with a smile, ‘Good morning, Mrs Henderson.’ ‘Morning, dear,’ the kind-hearted janitor replied. ‘Off to have some fun, are ya?’ ‘For Milo, yes.’ Alessia smiled. ‘But for the rest of us, it’s work, work and more work. By the way, I apologise for the mess by our door. Someone left some toys and fruits there yesterday.’