Jenny Everywhere: Cleaning Day
Aug. 13th, 2022 12:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scott_sanfordHappy Jenny Everywhere Day, everyone!
Today is cleaning day.
In a universe, on an Earth, in a city, in an apartment, there is a closet. Specifically, it’s Jenny Everywhere’s closet.
As soon asJenny someone comes home the coat closet near the front door is the easiest place to stick something out of the way, where it can remain out of sight until forgotten. This fact explains much about the contents of the closet.
Since Jenny has been blowing off housekeeping since approximately forever, cleaning it out is long past due. Her roommate Kim has no intention of doing it herself, since this is Jenny’s mess too, and some of this stuff shouldn’t be laying around unsecured.
Also, it can’t really be put off. Somewhere deep in the hall closet something has gotten damp and has to be taken to the dry cleaner before the rich organic funk of mammoth fur in the rain suffuses the entire apartment.
Discoveries in the closet and their fates included:
A Barrett Light Fifty rifle, with three rounds still in the magazine. Jenny was annoyed that it wasn’t unloaded and cleaned before being stuffed behind her old stegosaurus hide cloak, but acknowledged she might have been the one to put it there. (“Might?”, inquired Kim archly.) Unloaded, cleaned, and relocated to a more secure closet.
Stegosaurus hide cloak, in good condition for its age. Robust but not in fashion in this universe. Returned to closet.
Silver picture frame holding an old black and white photograph showing Jenny in aviation gear, scarf and goggles clearly visible; in the background is a biplane and a tropical jungle. On the back is written “Burma, 1931,” in what looks like Jenny’s handwriting. She has no idea where this came from. Hung on wall.
Crown of the Vampire King, a powerful mystic artifact securely contained in an old cardboard box on the top shelf of the closet. Observing that this was insufficient containment, the box was taken down, taped closed, and put back; the ladies agreed that the extra security is surely worthwhile.
An amnesia orb, a mystical sphere the size of a golf ball that disrupts the short-term memory of anyone who looks at it.
De-pants-icator confiscated from the local teenage mad scientist Professor Awesome. After the ladies found the power button and changed clothes, it was put into a brand new cardboard box which was later stacked next to the box with the Crown of the Vampire King.
Black cylinder, unusually heavy, bearing a recessed panel of cryptic controls and the label “Mark IV Peace Bomb: Property of Unified States Reality Service. Best before 3 March 2267.” At Kim’s insistence they set it aside for Jenny to drop into the ocean on an uninhabited world.
Altoids tin taped shut with abundant masking tape, now considerably deteriorated with age, bearing a handwritten label claiming it contained the philosophical concept of squimulation. After discussion, the tin was further wrapped in transparent waterproof plastic and secured with more robust duct tape. Left in the same box as the de-pants-icator.
Lava lamp full of blue-green glowing slime, with assorted alphabetic symbols floating inside. The advantages of having a lava lamp that did not need to be plugged in were debated, as were the possible consequences of keeping “liquid illumination” in an easily broken glass container. Lamp was eventually repacked into more secure and well padded plastic tub.
A loose pile of MREs, all Dodo Stew flavor. Moved to kitchen.
An amnesia orb.
Large athletic bag; contents appeared to be many thousands of dollars in Canadian Tire money. Jenny launched into an improbable story about discovering a Florida man’s counterfeiting operation, but Kim was not impressed and pointed out that it was a perfectly good nylon bag. Bag was saved, bills were put in old grocery bags and added to recycling.
Operator’s manual for Nazi flying saucer, in German. Nobody they know has a 1949 Volksflieger. Tossed out.
Pair of invisible pants, tight leggings that allow the wearer to be invisible from waist to ankles. Jenny delightfully announced she’d been looking for these and acknowledged the silliness of that statement; Kim was skeptical about the usefulness of these. Added to laundry.
The World is Toast by Jenny Everywhere (“Not this one.”), a travelogue and cookbook containing many amusing anecdotes and recipes for over 200 varieties of toast. Shelved in kitchen.
Stone tablet bearing a summoning ritual for Tepoztecatl, the Mesoamerican god of pulque and by extension all alcoholic beverages. Jenny said the rite wouldn’t work, as he was already living in Minneapolis; Kim declined to rise to this and put it away into a convenient box.
Antigravity flight harness, fallen onto the ceiling. Getting it down looked like a hassle and might have meant going to get a ladder. They left it up there.
Gnomeometer, jammed on ‘two.’ Chucked carelessly into box with de-pants-icator.
Umbrella with no visible anomalies but unusually heavy; close examination showed the structure to be very robust and the canopy, according to the label, of multi-layer kevlar. Jenny said she didn’t remember this; Kim agreed, as she’d ‘acquired’ it off of a Russian back in the 1980s in an adventure she declined to share. Left in closet on account of being a perfectly good umbrella.
An amnesia orb, fallen into a rocket boot.
One rocket boot, still fueled. Jenny’s unlikely story about how she brought home one boot of a system meant to allow human flight when worn in pairs was averted; the ladies debated whether to discard or give it to Professor Awesome, and concluded he could have it if his mother agreed.
Tourist map of attractions around Koala Bay, NSW, Australia. Tossed out.
Take-out menu from Good Time Chinese restaurant, with an address in a city that does not exist in this universe. Tossed out.
Back issue of Правда (Pravda) from the 1980s announcing “Горбачев поет тракторы: Репка! Ягодицы!” Tossed out.
Bible, leather bound King Charles Version with only six gospels, omitting Bartholomew. Kim remarked she was wondering where that went. Shelved properly in living room.
A large wad of promotional T-shirts for bands and musicians. “They were cleaning out the freebie closet,” Jenny explained. Entire pile consigned to laundry, pending re-examination when the collection is fit to be touched by humans.
Carnot engine perpetual motion machine, broken. Jenny says she could repair it if she could get the right parts. Saved as a possible birthday present for Professor Awesome.
A toaster, at first glance a typical Toastmaster Model 1B14 much like the one already in the kitchen;Jenny someone had taken a label maker and labeled it “Perfectly Normal Toaster,” hinting that this may be less than fully truthful. Left in closet to prevent accidental use.
Small and badly cracked plastic jar labeled Resublimated Thiotimoline, with a few cc of liquid inside. Put aside with the Reality Bomb for disposal into an uninhabited universe.
An amnesia orb, discovered by Jenny and wrapped in an obscure band’s promotional t-shirt by Kim, who didn't look this time. Placed in an opaque box which was then taped shut and carefully labeled; stacked on top of the box with the Crown of the Vampire King.
A poster tube from the Louvre gift shop; the receipt says it contains a poster of Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Ovunque and a print of Raphael’s sketch Nude with Scarf. Taken away into Jenny’s closet, probably never to be seen again.
CD of the David Cassidy inauguration. (“In what world was David Cassidy a reasonable presidential candidate?”) Filed properly in the music library.
A black superhero costume made of some thick rubbery substance, inexplicably molded with idealized muscular definition and anatomically correct nipples. By mutual agreement it was sliced up into unwearablility before being thrown out.
A luxurious fur coat, with a multitude of interior pockets, certainly worth thousands if it were made of mink; as it is instead made of mammoth it is both wonderfully warm in the winter and highly odoriferous in the rain. With great relief, this was consigned to the dry cleaner.
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The character of Jenny Everywhere is available for use by anyone, with only one condition. This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Everywhere, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.
Today is cleaning day.
In a universe, on an Earth, in a city, in an apartment, there is a closet. Specifically, it’s Jenny Everywhere’s closet.
As soon as
Since Jenny has been blowing off housekeeping since approximately forever, cleaning it out is long past due. Her roommate Kim has no intention of doing it herself, since this is Jenny’s mess too, and some of this stuff shouldn’t be laying around unsecured.
Also, it can’t really be put off. Somewhere deep in the hall closet something has gotten damp and has to be taken to the dry cleaner before the rich organic funk of mammoth fur in the rain suffuses the entire apartment.
Discoveries in the closet and their fates included:
A Barrett Light Fifty rifle, with three rounds still in the magazine. Jenny was annoyed that it wasn’t unloaded and cleaned before being stuffed behind her old stegosaurus hide cloak, but acknowledged she might have been the one to put it there. (“Might?”, inquired Kim archly.) Unloaded, cleaned, and relocated to a more secure closet.
Stegosaurus hide cloak, in good condition for its age. Robust but not in fashion in this universe. Returned to closet.
Silver picture frame holding an old black and white photograph showing Jenny in aviation gear, scarf and goggles clearly visible; in the background is a biplane and a tropical jungle. On the back is written “Burma, 1931,” in what looks like Jenny’s handwriting. She has no idea where this came from. Hung on wall.
Crown of the Vampire King, a powerful mystic artifact securely contained in an old cardboard box on the top shelf of the closet. Observing that this was insufficient containment, the box was taken down, taped closed, and put back; the ladies agreed that the extra security is surely worthwhile.
An amnesia orb, a mystical sphere the size of a golf ball that disrupts the short-term memory of anyone who looks at it.
De-pants-icator confiscated from the local teenage mad scientist Professor Awesome. After the ladies found the power button and changed clothes, it was put into a brand new cardboard box which was later stacked next to the box with the Crown of the Vampire King.
Black cylinder, unusually heavy, bearing a recessed panel of cryptic controls and the label “Mark IV Peace Bomb: Property of Unified States Reality Service. Best before 3 March 2267.” At Kim’s insistence they set it aside for Jenny to drop into the ocean on an uninhabited world.
Altoids tin taped shut with abundant masking tape, now considerably deteriorated with age, bearing a handwritten label claiming it contained the philosophical concept of squimulation. After discussion, the tin was further wrapped in transparent waterproof plastic and secured with more robust duct tape. Left in the same box as the de-pants-icator.
Lava lamp full of blue-green glowing slime, with assorted alphabetic symbols floating inside. The advantages of having a lava lamp that did not need to be plugged in were debated, as were the possible consequences of keeping “liquid illumination” in an easily broken glass container. Lamp was eventually repacked into more secure and well padded plastic tub.
A loose pile of MREs, all Dodo Stew flavor. Moved to kitchen.
An amnesia orb.
Large athletic bag; contents appeared to be many thousands of dollars in Canadian Tire money. Jenny launched into an improbable story about discovering a Florida man’s counterfeiting operation, but Kim was not impressed and pointed out that it was a perfectly good nylon bag. Bag was saved, bills were put in old grocery bags and added to recycling.
Operator’s manual for Nazi flying saucer, in German. Nobody they know has a 1949 Volksflieger. Tossed out.
Pair of invisible pants, tight leggings that allow the wearer to be invisible from waist to ankles. Jenny delightfully announced she’d been looking for these and acknowledged the silliness of that statement; Kim was skeptical about the usefulness of these. Added to laundry.
The World is Toast by Jenny Everywhere (“Not this one.”), a travelogue and cookbook containing many amusing anecdotes and recipes for over 200 varieties of toast. Shelved in kitchen.
Stone tablet bearing a summoning ritual for Tepoztecatl, the Mesoamerican god of pulque and by extension all alcoholic beverages. Jenny said the rite wouldn’t work, as he was already living in Minneapolis; Kim declined to rise to this and put it away into a convenient box.
Antigravity flight harness, fallen onto the ceiling. Getting it down looked like a hassle and might have meant going to get a ladder. They left it up there.
Gnomeometer, jammed on ‘two.’ Chucked carelessly into box with de-pants-icator.
Umbrella with no visible anomalies but unusually heavy; close examination showed the structure to be very robust and the canopy, according to the label, of multi-layer kevlar. Jenny said she didn’t remember this; Kim agreed, as she’d ‘acquired’ it off of a Russian back in the 1980s in an adventure she declined to share. Left in closet on account of being a perfectly good umbrella.
An amnesia orb, fallen into a rocket boot.
One rocket boot, still fueled. Jenny’s unlikely story about how she brought home one boot of a system meant to allow human flight when worn in pairs was averted; the ladies debated whether to discard or give it to Professor Awesome, and concluded he could have it if his mother agreed.
Tourist map of attractions around Koala Bay, NSW, Australia. Tossed out.
Take-out menu from Good Time Chinese restaurant, with an address in a city that does not exist in this universe. Tossed out.
Back issue of Правда (Pravda) from the 1980s announcing “Горбачев поет тракторы: Репка! Ягодицы!” Tossed out.
Bible, leather bound King Charles Version with only six gospels, omitting Bartholomew. Kim remarked she was wondering where that went. Shelved properly in living room.
A large wad of promotional T-shirts for bands and musicians. “They were cleaning out the freebie closet,” Jenny explained. Entire pile consigned to laundry, pending re-examination when the collection is fit to be touched by humans.
Carnot engine perpetual motion machine, broken. Jenny says she could repair it if she could get the right parts. Saved as a possible birthday present for Professor Awesome.
A toaster, at first glance a typical Toastmaster Model 1B14 much like the one already in the kitchen;
Small and badly cracked plastic jar labeled Resublimated Thiotimoline, with a few cc of liquid inside. Put aside with the Reality Bomb for disposal into an uninhabited universe.
An amnesia orb, discovered by Jenny and wrapped in an obscure band’s promotional t-shirt by Kim, who didn't look this time. Placed in an opaque box which was then taped shut and carefully labeled; stacked on top of the box with the Crown of the Vampire King.
A poster tube from the Louvre gift shop; the receipt says it contains a poster of Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Ovunque and a print of Raphael’s sketch Nude with Scarf. Taken away into Jenny’s closet, probably never to be seen again.
CD of the David Cassidy inauguration. (“In what world was David Cassidy a reasonable presidential candidate?”) Filed properly in the music library.
A black superhero costume made of some thick rubbery substance, inexplicably molded with idealized muscular definition and anatomically correct nipples. By mutual agreement it was sliced up into unwearablility before being thrown out.
A luxurious fur coat, with a multitude of interior pockets, certainly worth thousands if it were made of mink; as it is instead made of mammoth it is both wonderfully warm in the winter and highly odoriferous in the rain. With great relief, this was consigned to the dry cleaner.
