The Mess Be Gone Man

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning when Mrs. Drinkbee’s tranquility became disrupted by a confident knock on the front door of her Summit Street home. She adjusted her spectacles, shuffled to the entryway, and opened the door to reveal a man in a crisp suit and an expression so earnest that it nearly bordered on evangelical zeal.

“Good day, madam! I’m Roger Merriweather, and I’ve come to introduce you to the most revolutionary cleaning solution since the invention of soap.” He held up a briefcase that seemed to exude professionalism, though slightly scuffed at the edges.

“I already have a mop,” Mrs. Drinkbee replied curtly.

Roger chuckled knowingly. “Ah, but do you have this?” With a flourish, he swung open the briefcase to reveal a squirming, rosy-cheeked toddler inside, grinning and blowing spit bubbles.

Mrs. Drinkbee gasped, clutching her pearls. “Sir! You can’t just carry a child around in your briefcase!”

“Not just any child,” Roger clarified, lifting the little one. “This, madam, is a Toddler AbsorbaTron™ 3000—a marvel of bio-absorption technology. At this age, toddlers are natural sponges. They can absorb anything—liquids, crumbs, existential dread—you name it. Perfect for household cleaning!”

Before Mrs. Drinkbee could protest further, Roger set the toddler on her kitchen counter. “Observe!” He deftly picked up the child by its ankles and began wiping it across the crumbs and spilled tea from Mrs. Drinkbee’s breakfast. The child giggled with delight as its chubby cheeks and plump knees suctioned up the mess, leaving the surface spotless.

Mrs. Drinkbee blinked in stunned silence. The counter gleamed.

“See? No harsh chemicals! No microfiber rags! Just the pure, unadulterated absorbency of youth.” Roger beamed, holding the now slightly crumby toddler aloft.

“Well, I never…” Mrs. Drinkbee muttered, though her eyes lingered on the pristine counter.

“Oh, but there’s more!” Roger spun the toddler around, its arms flapping gleefully. “Stuck-on grease? Chocolate syrup? Spilled spaghetti? AbsorbaTron™ 3000 handles it all with a simple swish and wipe. And they double as entertainment for your grandkids.”

Mrs. Drinkbee squinted at the child. It cooed at her, utterly unbothered.

“What about…cluttered bookshelves?” she asked cautiously.

Roger’s eyes lit up. “Excellent question! For that, I recommend the AbsorbaTron™ 5000 Toddler—same technology but with a slightly longer reach. They come in toddler twins for double the coverage. And, madam, let me assure you: the more mess they absorb, the happier they get. It’s in their programming—or, er, their nature.”

Mrs. Drinkbee hesitated, tapping her chin. She had to admit the concept was absurd. But her house hadn’t been this clean since the Obama administration, and she’d only seen it in action for thirty seconds.

Finally, she spoke. “I’ll take two.”

Roger grinned triumphantly. “Splendid choice, madam. You’ll never sweep or scrub again.”

As he scribbled on his order form, two more toddlers toddled from behind his briefcase, bumping into each other like bowling pins. Mrs. Drinkbee eyed them warily.

“I trust they come house-trained?”

Roger coughed lightly. “Mostly.”

With that, he handed over her receipt and tipped his hat. Mrs. Drinkbee stood in her spotless kitchen, watching her new cleaning companions crawl under the table, giggling as they absorbed every crumb they could find.

From that day on, Mrs. Drinkbee became the neatest housekeeper in Virginia City and the most bewildered.