Clef and Gears can't find their way out of a seemingly endless IKEA building.
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Info
Cleanup on Aisle Five - A part of the Cleanliness Guaranteed* series.
Author:ubergoober and
radian628
"Okay, you two," said Director Tilda Moose, "Could either of you explain why it took you six hours to clean up a furniture store bathroom?"
"Apologies, Director," replied Charles Gears, who was sitting across from Moose's office desk, his expression stern.
"Don't apologize, dude!" exclaimed Alto Clef. "It's not our fault we got lost."
"Correct. It is your fault, specifically," replied Gears.
"No way! Moose, just let me explain, okay."
"That's Director Moose. But sure."
"So we were in this IKEA, about an hour from here. Now you might be wondering, 'Hey Clef, you irresistible hunk, why the fuck would an IKEA call in the Safe Cleanup Professionals to clean up their own mess?' And I'll tell you why. The whole bathroom floor was covered in shit water. Absolutely nasty. It was even worse when Gears hurled on the floor after seeing it." Clef made a face.
"I did not vomit on the floor. That was you."
"Yeah right, it was. Anyhoo, we busted out the mops, and got to work. It took us all morning, and I swear to fucking god I never wanna see another public restroom in my life. Turns out the toilet was clogged, and we were both thinkin' it was cuz' some dude took a monster shit in there, but it somehow was even worse than that. There was a worm in there."
"Clef, did you get tapeworms again?" Moose asked.
"I'm off the raw meat diet," Clef replied. "And no, I wasn't the one who shat in there."
"So what took you so long?"
"Well, somehow we dropped the plunger on the way there, so I had to go out and find it, which added a solid twenty minutes to—"
"You took six hours, Clef."
"Oh yeah, the worm was six feet long. And it tried to eat me."
"Clef, there was not a six-foot long man-eating worm in there," Moose interjected. "Though that would certainly explain the delay."
"Are you callin' me a liar?"
"Well… kinda. You have a habit of, uh, embellishing your stories."
"Hmph. Well, to be clear, it was me who wrangled down the damn thing, and made it choke on its own acid. C'mon Gears, back me up here."
"I cannot entirely confirm the plausibility of this story…" Gears mumbled.
"Oh, come on!"
"…but I won't deny it either."
"Thank you." Clef grinned. "And after I disposed of the creature, we ended up cleaning up all of the mess it made, and I think we did a great freakin' job. I'd say you could eat off that bathroom floor, especially compared to those crusty plastic plates in the Site 19 break room.
"After that, we were basically done, so Gears and I packed up our stuff and were ready to head out. Problem is, neither of us remembered the way we came in. I said we had passed the furniture section, but Gears, being the smartass he is, was like 'You know the whole store is just furniture right?' And he did have a point— the whole goddamn store looks the same. Gears racked that brain of his to remember the way out, but when he ended up leading us down to the goddamn warehouse, we both knew that somewhere we fucked up."
"You messed up. If you had actually followed my lead, we would've been out. Director, if you don't believe me, ask Clef to recount how we got—"
"Shhhhh, I'm not there yet. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we were in the warehouse. Completely lost. At that point, I decided to just head in a direction and see if it led to an exit."
"Clef insisted we didn't ask the employees for directions."
"Listen, it's all part of a conspiracy to trap us inside the store. 'Don't talk to the fucking employees,' I told him. 'They're in on it too. I bet they make a commission for how long they keep customers in the store, so they're gonna lead us around past all the expensive furniture and stuff so we spend tons of extra time in the store.'
"So yeah, Gears warmed up to my idea of taking our own road or whatever."
"For the record, I would like to note that Clef's idea did not work whatsoever," Gears pointed out, his arms crossed.
"Oh, shut up. Well, actually you're not wrong. It really only led us deeper into the store, like one of those jungle gyms you see at… wherever the heck those things are built. It was cramped, impossible to navigate, a labyrinth of shelves and couches and beds and shit. We did stumble upon the restaurant, though. Lucky, too, cuz' it was about twelve-ish. Gears and I stood in line for like an hour waiting for meatballs, and everyone was staring at us cuz of the cleaning equipment we were carrying, but whatever. Honestly the meatballs were pretty good, though they weren't really worth the wait. Speaking of meatballs, after lunch, I had to go take a shit, and luckily my janitor-senses directed me to the nearest restroom."
"Clef, is this really necessary to the story?" asked Moose.
"Oh, don't give me that look, Moose, I know it's not the most disgusting thing you've heard today."
"Just get to the point. I don't have all day."
"Right, right. So when I get back from my dump, Gears here has a brilliant idea. I say that with big air quotes because it was a terrible idea. You know it was, Charlie. Anyways, he said 'If you hold one hand to the edge of the wall and keep following it, eventually you'll find your way out of the store.' Something about maze algorithms and graph theory or some shit."
"To be more specific, if a maze is simply connected, one can traverse the maze by—"
"Nobody cares, dude. It was a stupid-ass plan. I hate to admit it but I thought it was smart at the time. Charlie, I have to admit you usually get shit done, but you fucked up this time. But, anyway, we set off on a journey with our right hands to the walls. Well, it was less of a wall and more of a hundred-foot-tall metal shelf. We passed the murder couch, a whole bunch of flatscreen TVs, a—"
"Hold on. What, exactly, is a murder couch?" Moose interrupted. "What happened in—"
"See, it looked like a regular white couch, but— get this— it had red streaks running across it," Clef blurted out. "It looked like someone had been stabbed to death on it. Who the fuck thought that was a good idea?"
"Was somebody stabbed to death on it?" Moose replied, raising an eyebrow.
Clef stared at the ceiling. "Well, I can't say for sure that anyone wasn't stabbed to—"
"So, no."
Clef cleared his throat. "Anyways, we kept wandering on the same route, our hands to the wall. The shelf, whatever. Lots of interesting stuff in there. Did you know that they sell sharks in IKEA?"
"Sharks?"
"Like stuffed animals, you idiot, not actual sharks from the ocean."
"Don't speak to your boss that way," Moose warned.
"Whatevs," replied Clef. "Anyways, I got one for Dee. Thought they might like it. Okay, fuck, I'm really getting sidetracked here. We kept exploring with our right hands to the wall for the next— I don't know— ten minutes? Fifteen? Something like that. All seemed well and good until something familiar caught my eye: The fucking murder couch."
Moose glanced at him skeptically.
"Gears and I did a double take. Was this the same couch? Or was it one that just looked similar? All the other products are grouped together, so why the fuck would they have two murder couches a mile apart? Was this just a new employee being stupid? Was I just losing my mind? Or what? Gears was convinced that this was a different couch, but I was beginning to doubt his methods."
Gears spoke up. "In retrospect, the reason for our failure is clear, it—"
"Dude. I'm talkin' here. It's rude to interrupt people. Anyways, just to make sure I wasn't going crazy I did a little experiment: I took out a Foundation business card from my pocket and stuffed it between the couch cushions. Then, if we ever saw this couch again, I could see if it's the same one by checking for the business card. And if we didn't, then whichever shitbag moronic enough to buy it would get our contact info."
"So, anyway, we set off again and walked for another fifteen minutes. A lot of the stuff we were walking past was beginning to look awfully familiar. It was kind of unsettling. Like a— what do you call it? Deja vu? Vega du? Whatever, you know what I mean.
"And then we got to the murder couch. Again. And I stuffed my hands beneath the cushions and lo and behold the business card was there.
"Somehow, this IKEA was keeping us trapped in its clutches. No matter how far we went outside of this maze, it somehow bent us back around to the center, like some sort of non-euclidean geometry fuckery or whatever the nerds call it. And you know where it led us again and again and again? The murder couch. Perhaps that was blood. Perhaps a murder did take place here. Perhaps that's how they make their meatballs. Still taste pretty good, though.
"At this point some of the employees were beginning to give us weird looks. I already knew it was a bad idea to talk to them but this really cemented it in. They knew we were stuck in its maw. They knew we were ripe for the picking. I'm sure they were salivating over our very flesh." Clef leaned back with a grin on his face.
Moose sighed. "Clef, do you realize that you two were going in a circle?"
Clef paused for a moment, his smile disappearing, before he slammed his fist on the desk. "What the fuck are you talking about, Moose? We weren't going around in circles. We went around several 90-degree corners. Do circles have corners now? What the fuck is wrong with you people?"
Moose opened their mouth for a word of protest, before closing it again.
"So, yeah, after that, I was like, 'Screw this,' and I decided to get a better vantage point of the store. And then I realized how far I would be able to see if we weren't surrounded by goddamn shelves. So naturally, there was only one course of action— I put my mop down, rolled up the sleeves of my lab coat, and started climbing. Gears rolled his eyes at me at the time, but we both know it was a great idea. And I'm a good fucking climber, I'm like a monkey." Clef turned to Moose and Gears, his characteristic grin slowly turning to a frown.
"Hey, what are you laughing for?"
"Nothing." Moose placed their hand over their mouth to hide their grin.
"Hmph. Anyways, with my herculean strength, I scaled the mighty shelves of the IKEA building. Now, granted, the store employees weren't too pleased with this. They were all 'Sir, please get down.' What a buncha nerds. It's like they didn't want us to escape, I swear. I flipped 'em off and kept climbing until I reached the top. And I tell ya, I could see for miles. Yeah, I said miles. It's a freakin' huge building, I'd be surprised if it was less than a kilometer. Is a kilometer bigger than a mile?"
Clef made a show of counting on his fingers. "Eh, whatever. So I was at the top of the bigass department store shelves. I checked every side of the building from that vantage point for anything resembling an exit. I think I covered every square foot of the wall of the store. At least from what I could see. But you wanna know what I found?
"Fucking nothing. That's right. Nothing. I didn't even see where we'd entered from. Was there even an entrance to this building at all? I'm half-convinced that—"
"Clef, have you heard of 'object permanence'?" Gears asked.
"Huh? What the fuck does that mean?"
"It's where— never mind. Continue making a fool of yourself."
"Har har. Point is, I couldn't see the entrance, and the employees were getting antsy. I realized that Gears and I were gonna have to tough it out. Speaking of Gears, the whole time he was looking at me like I'm some kind of fucking idiot. Same look you're giving me right now, Moose. He was down there talking to the staff, which might I add, I specifically told him not to do. He was all like 'I apologize for his behavior, we're just trying to find our way out.' Can you believe it? Conversing with the enemy! I was as shocked as you are, and after I had risked life and limb, bravely climbing up and down to bring him this info.
"So anyways, one of the store employees were like 'I'm afraid you're going to have to leave now,' and they told us to come with them. I know Gears would've done so, too, if I hadn't saved his ass. I pulled him away, and before we knew it we were running from the IKEA staff, pushing our mop bucket cart and other cleaning equipment stuff as fast as we could.
"Okay, now get this. Gears had another bright idea. I think you know how this is going to go at this point. Don't look at me like that, Charlie. You've dropped the ball every single goddamn time today. I think it's your lack of street smarts. Anyway, we were zooming along the floor of the IKEA with our cart full of soapy shit water when Gears tipped the damn thing over, and I bet my ass it was on purpose. Several gallons of shit-soaked soapy water went everywhere, covering the entire floor.
"Long story short, all the employees slipped and fell on their asses.
"Now, normally, I'd be laughing my ass off in this situation. I gotta hand it to you, Charlie, you were one step away from pure genius. But there's two reasons why I wasn't laughing my ass off: one, because I was running so fast I had no air to spare on laughter. And two, due to all of my muscle mass, I couldn't keep up with Gears— as a result, as soon as that shit-soaked water hit the ground…
"I fuckin' slipped on it too."
Moose let out a slight chuckle.
"Shut up. I fell right on my ass, hitting the tile floor and soaking my goddamn jeans in soapy shit water. It splashed everywhere, all over my face, too. Absolutely nasty, and I regrettably now know what soap tastes when combined with shit water. And more importantly, it was entirely Gears' fault."
"Explain to me how it was my fault that you slipped and fell?"
"Why— you were the idiot who spilled the water in the first place! Who does that?!"
"I was hoping that you would be able to keep pace."
"Gears, you asshole, I— C'mon man! Not cool!"
"The plan worked, did it not?"
"I mean, I guess. As I was getting up, I slipped a few more times thanks to your fucking moronic plan."
"Wouldn't have happened if you were wearing Foundation-issue company boots."
"We- we don't even have standard issue boots! What the fuck are you talkin' about, man?"
Moose cut them off. "Alright, you two, I'm gonna stop you there. Clef, you were saying?"
"Right. The employees were closing in. One of them was calling for security over their radio. So I armed myself with my mop, ready to kick some Swedish ass, and meanwhile Gears was just standing there like a dope. He wasn't helping me, he wasn't fighting, and he didn't even have the brains to run for his life. I knew I would have to carry the team myself."
"Oh, please-"
"SHUT UP, GEARS, I AM TALKING. Anyways, I twirled my plunger, ready to go in for the attack against the vicious IKEA employees. I swung, but those motherfuckers were agile, I tell ya. I ended up missing and whacking a bunch of shit off of one of the shelves instead— I think a few things broke, but whatever. The whole time, fucking Gears was just standing there with his head in his hands. Luckily, though, with my incredible strength I was able to fend off the employees with my combat skills. It was then, however, that I felt a shock in my right leg, like a hive of fucking bees stinging my every muscle, and I collapsed to the floor.
"Next thing I knew, Gears and I had been caught by these two security guards, and they were looking at us with these shit-eating grins. The whole time, Gears was just repeating the same apology over and over again like a broken alarm clock. I told him to shut the fuck up, and that's when I really let those assholes have it. You know what I told them?
"'You might think you've captured me, but mark my fucking words, you're going to pay for what you've done to me. You know why? Because I don't work alone. I'm part of the SCP Foundation. You probably don't know who we are. And that's intentional. We strike at night to clean up horrors that the rest of society is too afraid to touch. We hunt down monsters the likes of which you've never seen in your life. And we send a chill down the spine of every slimy motherfucker that attempts to get in the way of getting our mission done. Have I told you about the time we strongarmed the jackasses at C.A.O.S. Inc? No? What about the FBI? We're above it all. We're unstoppable. And once the Administrator catches wind of the fact that you little shits are going to lock me up, he's going to come in here with his crew and tear you sons of bitches a new one. At least, once he gets back from his week-long vacation.'
"Anyways, then security threw us out of the store. Bastards knew they were outmatched. Gerald yelled at me for making him wait so long to pick us up, but I told him the same story I'm telling you now on the way back."
"So yeah, despite all odds, as well as Gears here being a dumbass of the highest order, we managed to make it out of the IKEA alive."
"Alright, Clef, I think I've heard enough. After listening to your story carefully and deliberating accordingly, I have decided…
"… that this is entirely your fault. I'll be decreasing your paycheck accordingly."