Clean Freak (1-29-18)

Write something that contains the following sentence: He must’ve cleaned house before we got here. [Link to post.]

“Mr. Martinez do you have any statements to make regarding your readiness to re-enter society?” An older, female doctor stared at Mr. Martinez across the table. She was one of three reviewers considering whether the young, disheveled man was stable enough to leave the asylum where he spent the last five years of his life. Jorge Martinez scratched at the stubble growing back on his shaved head.

“I’m not a danger to anyone.” Jorge said while staring at the ground.

“The orderlies you’ve attacked for cleaning your room would disagree,” the woman said. The other two board members nodded, but did not add anything to the conversation.

“I’m not dangerous, I need my mess. It protects me.” One of the men on the board chuckled while the woman flipped through Jorge’s file. 

“From the… Cleaning Monster?” Jorge nodded with a sigh.

“Mr. Martinez the truth is this facility is full. I believe you’re no danger to anyone else,” she chuckled. “As long as no one tries to clean your house.” She stamped his paperwork. “Congratulations Mr. Martinez. We are granting your release.” Mr. Martinez smiled.

“Thank you!” He stood up and cheered. A security guard escorted him to get his things, and see him out of the facility. With no family or friends to call Jorge took a cab home. He spent five years in the asylum, but had amassed a fair bit of wealth before that. He was able to maintain his property and kept his bills up to date while in the asylum. He opened the door to find the house spotless.

“NO!” He yelled and shut the door. The house was not how he left it. He ran to his car and drove to the grocery store. He stuffed his shopping cart with arm fulls of anything that looked messy. Cereal, confetti, popcorn kernels and sodas. He returned home to the living room and enjoyed making a mess. He threw food on the living room floor, though he kept liquids to areas that had tile. When the living room was covered food and trash he at last felt comfortable enough. He moved his pillow and blanket to the middle of the mess and went to sleep. Several days later a pair of patrolmen knocked at his door.

“Mr. Martinez, are you okay?” One of them asked when the door remained unanswered. He knocked again with more force.

“We at the right address?” One of the patrolmen stepped back to look at the numbers on the door, then check his report. “Yeah, this is the right place.” The other officer yelled through the door again.

“Mr. Martinez, we have been sent to check on you. You’re supposed to be maintaining contact with a doctor at the asylum, and she’s worried that you haven’t checked in for a couple of days.”

“Mr. Martinez, we’re coming in. We’re not going to harm you.” The two police officers broke the door open and walked in to an immaculate household.

“Huh. The doctor made it sound like this guy was a complete hoarder, this place is spotless.” One of the officers said.

“Maybe it did him good to be in there. He must’ve cleaned house before we got here.” The other officer said from the kitchen.

“I have heard of cases where people clean house before suicide,” The first officer said. He joined the one in the kitchen and nodded to the living room behind them. “Found ‘im. Place is spotless, but he’s been dead for days.”

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