Fiesta!

Mushy go Squish

Yoshiro Mushasune was never the one to initiate any sort on confrontation with his equals; in fact he usually kept to his own maters. Yet here he was, cleaning the floors of the 10th Division Headquarters of all the empty pizza boxes, dirty clothes, and photos destined to reach the R-rated image cartel. Beads of sweat blossomed on his forehead, his hectic snow like hair now plastered on his brow. Why had he waited till the last few minutes before the party to set up!? Why hadn’t he used his time to crea- HOLY F*CK WHAT IS THAT!? His eyes narrowed on an old turkey sandwich, locked in the mouth of a dead rat that was buried under a pyramid of old underwear and T shirts. Yoshi quickly grasped his nose, doing his best to spare himself from the pungent odor that now lingered in the room. Quickly, he shuffled to find the nearest object he could use to pick the rat up and throw it in the already fatted trash bag….and that object consisted of two brooms that he used like overly large chopsticks to lift it. He really needed to do a better job of cleaning this place.

20 more minutes, the final instances between now and the party were coming to a close. And this was the final stand. Standing in stoic brilliance, wearing an apron and dual wielding two mops and two canisters of Fabreeze settled in two holsters at his side, was the Captain of the 10th Division. His enemy: the foul stench and the unyielding much that refused to come off the floors. Clearly, the next 18 minutes were spent on hyper cleaning…and the fruit of his labor was a sparkling room, smelling of lavender and rose….the room next door, however, was not so lucky as it was now the home of al the dirty clothes and trash that was in the room originally.

Yoshiro brushed the sweat off his brow one last time, smiling at the sight of it all. The tables were set for the Captain who said he would cook, party poppers and hats were available at the entrance, and a vast table for the lot of them to socialize was placed in the center of the room….all of it…spotless…except Yoshiro himself. The thought of grooming himself did not reach him until now…the exact moment the party was scheduled. Terror grew within him, and he looked down to find himself in his kitten pajamas and a white tank drenched in his own sweat. Son of a B****!