So, after watching The Grossery Gang Movie a few times, Wet Wipes (or Wipe Over, if you prefer his toy name better) and his little ruse started to appeal to me. So, the gears in my head started to turn, and this story idea popped in. The Grossery Gang is owned by Moose Toys, but I own some of the webseries names of established Grosseries. Enjoy!
He retreated. It was really the only thing he and the others could do. Even if they had the numbers, both their best weapons and their boss were out of commission. Not to mention, those freaks still had their powers and their machinery, leaving any attack at a lost cause. No doubt about it, it was a clean sweep of a match.
The only downside being that the ones cleaned up were the Clean Team themselves. The gross prevailed, and anything bright and shiny was backed up into that pathetic factory on the outskirts of Cheap Town.
"Ugh, that was PATHETIC!"
The stragglers of the Clean Team, the ones that were wise enough to retreat, were now forced to lick their wounds back at base. With an unknown window on how long their boss would take to be brought back up, these clean cyborg-esque creations were forced to wait.
A team of many clones, now dwindled down to few. The sea of blue and silver was now just a puddle of teal and gray. Sure, they shined like they used to, but they were dropped down heavily.
"I mean, what was that?!" The voice continued, as the remainder of the Clean Team huddled in one of the bunkers of the factory. The one that spoke was Bleacher, a malevolent jug of bleach. Which Bleacher was this one? Not that it mattered; he has plenty of identical lookalikes. Or, at least he did.
"We were the ones that got trashed!" Buckethead, another once-plentiful clone base added. "It'll probably take forever to get another stronghold and this'll just happen again!"
"And what happens when the boss is back up and running?" Spray Bottle asked. "He's not going to be happy, that I can tell you!"
"I bet he'll take it out on you, Wet Wipes!" Buckethead added, almost sounding like he was taunting him.
"Huh?" Wet Wipes suddenly snapped into the conversation that he really wasn't listening to, still shook from what happen somewhat. "Why me? I'm the one that got Vac Attack's attention to where the Grosseries have their headquarters!"
"Exactly the point." Feather Duster wheezed out, still coughing from dust that would never shake him. "You might have led us to them, but that led them to taking on us."
"Therefore, it's your fault!" Buckethead concluded, as the others nodded in agreement.
"You better hope the boss takes forever to recover!" Bleacher added, sounding like he was guffawing while he said it. "Because I'm sure he'll do way worse than just vacuum you up again the next time!"
"Why did he vacuum you up the first time, let me see…" Spray Bottle pretended to ponder, as if he was lost in thought. "Oh yeah, you've got the sense of humor that's the opposite of everyone else in the squadron!"
"It's not even that funny a word!" Feather Duster hacked, while at the same time sounding like he was prepping to taunt. "I mean, what's so funny about the word 'duty'?"
"N-nothing!" Wet Wipes said, stumbling on his words, as the others shared knowing smirks with each other.
"Well, gee!" Buckethead said, sounding falsely chipper. "It's sure a tragedy that Vac Attack isn't here to give out some work DUTIES!"
A sputter.
"I mean, it IS our civil DUTY to clean up Cheap Town from those Grosseries!" Spray Bottle added, grinning.
That sounded like a snicker.
"It's not our fault our DUTY had to be put on hold!" Feather Duster continued.
By now, Wet Wipes' face was bright red, with his cheeks puffed out as he tried to hide a grin in, all while the remainder of the Clean Team surrounded him, they too grinning, but a much more malevolent one.
"…Duty." Bleacher simply said, as everything exploded and Wet Wipes started to cackle. Tears streamed out of his shut eyes as he held his chest to try and gain his composure, all while the others stared at him, now with false pity over malevolence.
"Pathetic." Spray Bottle and Feather Duster said in unison, shaking their lack of heads and crossing their arms in disappointment, as the remainder wheeled away from the now-recovering Wet Wipes, who started to lose his good mood.
"You're no better than those Grosseries!" Bleacher flung towards him, his voice growing faint.
Later that night, as the (perfectly laundered) bunks were filled by the few Clean Team members, thus leaving many empty beds, only one set of red pupils glowed in the darkness. Wet Wipes sat on his bunk, as everything echoed through his head.
The sounds of Vac Attack's nozzle sucking him up after the smallest laugh. The sound of the robotic Roomba vehicle that was supposed to bring their victory. The recent sounds of taunting.
"You're no better than those Grosseries!"
This was the sound that resonated the most. As if it wasn't the solo Bleacher saying it, but the entire clone army of them. From being in unison as a chant to multiple voices drowning him out, it almost made him attempt to clamp at his lack of ears to drown it out.
And then…thumping?
A small shadowy orb suddenly seemed to roll towards the edge of the bed, hitting the leg of it. As quietly as he could, Wet Wipes grabbed onto it. Thanks to the darkness, he couldn't see it perfectly. But he felt it. The fuzzy texture. The give that felt like squeezing a cardboard toilet paper tube. The slight…grime on his fingers?
It was a tennis ball. But not just any standard throwaway tennis ball. It was that one that donut dude had.
Suddenly, another voice filled his head. The soft and plain bed suddenly felt like a metallic floor, as the accent of a surfer rung through his ears.
"…Don't worry, we'll filth you up! I can see the gross is strong in you…"
It almost felt like a prison break. With a backpack (a clean one, of course), Wet Wipes found himself sneaking out of the factory. He passed every bunk with the quietest whir that his wheels could give him, packing only what he needed. Maybe that offer would still stand?
Immediately after leaving the perimeter of the factory, Wet Wipes felt like a stranger in a strange land. As soon as he left the proximity, the difference was clear. And disgusting! Spilled trash cans, alleys filled with trash bags and dumpsters, and mounds of rotten food everywhere. It was amazing that the citizens of Cheap Town could even sleep with this kind of stench!
Trucking on the sidewalk, Wet Wipes kept going. The streetlights cast a glow on his already-shiny coating, practically turning him into a walking disco ball. He tried to be as gentle and as stealthy as possible, with every sound that came out of nowhere nearly giving him a heart attack. But, he continued. He had to get there. He just had to.
Eventually, tired from lack of sleep and going all the way to the center of town, there it was. In buzzing neon lights was the slushy logo that said what he wanted. Yucky Mart.
Of course, his confidence was immediately dashed when he tried to pull on the door that was right under the sign. Locked. Wet Wipes scrambled his tired eyes around to try and find anything. The windows were as big as the doors, so those wouldn't work. The roof was way too high to get to. And then…hope.
Right next to a graffiti-stained wall was a dumpster. Crowded with trash, of course, but right above the dumpster was his ticket: an air vent.
Sure, it was tricky to scramble onto the dumpster when he felt wobbly already from a lack of sleep. Sure, it was a bit tricky to pry off that vent. And, sure, it was tricky to scramble into the vent, but he did it. The vent was slimy and filled with dead bugs, spider webs, and a weird glowing ooze that seemed to leak from the crevices. Avoiding that, Wet Wipes simply shimmied through, until he found the literal light at the end of the tunnel. In this case, it seemed to be the light of a slushy machine, since all the other lights in the store were shut off for the night.
Praying that everyone was in too deep a sleep to hear what sounded like a pan banging onto the ground as the second vent fell off, Wet Wipes slid down the wall from the other side of the vent, landing in a crouch to cushion his blow. When no one seemed to stir, he grinned to himself. He made it to the Yucky Mart!
Pulling out a pillow and blanket that he had stuffed into the backpack, Wet Wipes eased onto the floor. Sure, it was clammy, with grime that he couldn't shake, but he was tired. And a place to sleep was a place to sleep. Besides, he knew that he'd have to get used to it if he wanted to embrace the grossness that he apparently had in him!
The next morning, even though the sun was out and the fluorescent lights were turned on in the Yucky Mart, darkness still surrounded Wet Wipes. As he groggily woke up, he realized the darkness were actually shadows…of some very angry Grosseries.
"…Hi, neighbors!" Wet Wipes grinned, trying to mask the nervousness that filled his body now.
