Jenny and the Cleaner Episode 1

Jenny and the Cleaner

Episode 1

DISCLAIMER

This is to acknowledge that my good friend Doc Sherwood has graciously given permission to use some of his characters in Jenny and the Cleaner. In fact, it was Doc Sherwood who encouraged me to share this story publicly.

I am not a writer nor a scholar like him—just a man who enjoys a good read now and then. These are my own words; ChatGPT was used only for editing, punctuation, grammar, and spelling checks. This content is 100% human, with the exception of light technical editing.

With Doc Sherwood’s support and encouragement, I humbly present Jenny and the Cleaner.

References to real artists and songs are used fictitiously for storytelling purposes only.

Yours truly,

Danforth Greenwood

A cleaner’s hands, soft as a Canadian breeze,

Clear problems unseen, yet leave her heart exposed.

He stays alone, but time with her he pleases,

Though love is hidden, like a truth undisclosed.

She arrives, vestments lost—a temporal tease,

Her confusion, music, laughter, all unplanned.

He offers pants—kindness that will never cease—

Yet cracks his crusty armor, charmed and grand.

A glance, a blush, a universe between,

The slip pulls her back in, but his words remain:

“You get the pants, but not the prize foreseen—

Ain’t that the Canadian way?” his refrain.

For Jenny, loneliness is a cruel disease,

Yet in his silence bloomed a warmth she never knew.

The air crackled with a flash of blue light and a muffled thunderclap. Jenny materialized back in her original timeline. Everything looked the same—except for one glaring difference: she was pantless again. The slipstream always steals something, she thought.

It wasn’t a big deal, but as she focused on her surroundings, it wasn’t what she could see that confused her—it was what she could hear. The music. She didn’t recognize it.

She walked down the hall, following the soothing melody, until she reached the entrance to the maintenance department. That’s what the sign on the door said.

She paused, listening. A man was singing—his voice deep, calm, unfamiliar. The lyrics drifted through the door: something about sleeping with himself tonight and saving time.

How could this be? Sleep alone and save time? she wondered.

She opened the door, and there—sitting at his desk as usual—was the Canadian cleaner. He didn’t turn, just stared straight ahead, listening to the music. When he finally saw Jenny, he spoke.

“Can I help you, Jenny?”

She pointed toward the radio. “Who is that?”

“Elton John,” he replied without looking up. “What else do you want—just to ruin my break?”

“That would be it,” she said, and with a sharp turn that lifted her skirt just enough to expose what she was missing, added, “I could use some pants.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that,” the cleaner said dryly. He handed her a pair with the Canadian flag in all its glory. “Stop losing your pants, Jenny. This is the fourth pair I’ve had to give you—you owe me big time.”

She took the pants from him and met his eyes.

“Do you believe that?” she asked.

“Believe what?”

She lifted one leg and stepped into the fresh pair of pants. “Sleeping by yourself can save time. I don’t understand it.”

She slid her other leg in, wriggled for comfort, and adjusted her skirt. When satisfied, she looked up with a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the cleaner replied. “So—do you believe it? Sleeping by yourself saves time, like the song says?”

He stared at her for a long moment; she never took her eyes off his. He knew she expected an answer—and probably wouldn’t leave until she got it. Jenny was like that.

She was different from the others—kinder, softer. She never looked down on him for cleaning up their biggest messes. Over time, he’d grown used to her visits and her antics. Especially the ones involving pants.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I sleep alone, and I have all the time in the world—maybe even in the universe. The only time I ever lose is when I have to clean up after one of your friends makes a mistake. Even after 4-H-N told you all not to bother me unless it was absolutely necessary.”

He caught himself before going off like usual, then paused to see that she was still watching him—eyes locked, still smiling.

“I don’t like to sleep alone,” she said softly. “I don’t even like to be awake and alone—but being awake, that’s different.”

She stopped, her cheeks warming as she looked down at the floor. “You’re right. I do owe you. And everyone does get you to clean up after their mistakes.”

She took a small step forward and slowly looked up. “I’m sorry for intruding so many times. I was just confused by the music—and I’d only just arrived back from a mission.”

She reached for him; her fingers brushed his sleeve. Then everything began to dissolve into blue light. Another flash. A low clap of thunder. And she was back in the slipstream.

The Cleaner stood there, shaking his head as he bent to pick up the pair of pants he had just given her. He let out a quiet laugh and murmured,

“Yeah… you get the pants, but not the prize inside. Ain’t that the Canadian way.”

Jenny was moving fast—too fast for her liking. Where was she going? She’d done what 4-H-N asked her to do, and it had been boring and lonely. She didn’t like being alone—just like the song she’d heard, even sleep felt empty without someone near.

Wait… how did I get back into the slipstream? she thought. She was accelerating now. Think, she told herself. Oh yes—the communicator.

She reached for it and sent a message to 4-H-N:

“Why am I back in the slip? Finished with the planet and didn’t find anything—nothing at all. It was a dead world with only breathable air.”

There was no reply. She was still speeding up, and she could feel it.

At Headquarters, 4-H-N was furious—they’d lost control. One moment they had Jenny back, and the next she was gone. They couldn’t stop it.

“Where did she go?” 4-H-N demanded, eyes wide with concern. “What happened?”

“Unknown,” replied Robo-Petunia. “From the coordinates showing on the slip screen, she’s headed back to the planet she just left—and she’s moving very fast. Look at the numbers.”

They both stared as the figures for light speed climbed higher, nearing the red line.

“We need to do something to slow this down!” shouted 4-H-N. “And we need to do it quick.”

TO BE CONTINUE.

Jenny’s slipstream return — accident or malfunction?

As 4-H-N’s team races to stabilize her trajectory before she’s lost in time forever, Robo-Petunia detects a second signal pulsing through the slipstream. Chilling questions emerge:

• Who—or what—is tampering with Jenny’s jumps?

• Why is she heading back to the planet she just left?

• What secret does Robo-Petunia’s data hold about Jenny’s new jump?

Stay alert for the next thrilling episode of Jenny and the Cleaner.