The All Powerful Janitor

by Cerberus0225

Who is the 4th seat of the 11th division? Why is such a violent group not living in squalor, but are actually very clean? An answer to the long suffering question. Might add to it later, if people like it.

3. The 4th's Poem

A.N. I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this. Feedback really helps with that sort of thing.

'The All Powerful Janitor, aka The 4th Seat of the 11th, aka Butler, has deemed to put his average day into poetry. Please enjoy the first installment of this humorous tale. It has been censored for your benefit.'

-Shinigami Public Newspaper

I wake up bright and early,

And prepare for another day,

Of cleaning for the surly,

Division 11, yay.

I get the rooms clean,

And finish the paperwork,

Cook with meat (not lean),

And then I clean the murk.

The beds are full of scum,

They are sties overnight,

Cause they are covered in ***,

From when the grip is tight.

The plates are left behind,

The food left on the ground,

For they have no mind,

When they go to pound.

The blood flows, a river,

A lake, in the yard,

From all the stabbed livers,

And the bloke who's charred.

I throw the bodies back,

To the waiting Medics,

Or into a sack,

After I give them a few kicks.

I take them to the twelfth,

For their eager testing,

Or to be put on a shelf,

They are quite interesting.

I drag the moaning f***ers,

All to the fourth,

Before their all berserkers,

And for my own mirth.

I then get my mop,

And I clean the blood,

After-wards I get to chop,

Away at the crud.

While I clean the bathrooms,

I hear someone call me lame,

And as I pick mushrooms,

I think their all the same.

I make a delicious stew,

From the wild mushroom,

I skip past the normal crew,

And take it to that man's room.

Later I drag him out,

To let the fourth at him.

Wait! Beyond any doubt,

The twelfth will take him.

Now, to clean the fridge,easy as a breeze,

I open the door and reach up top,

The growling sounds make me freeze,

And make me get my mop.

Battle with the tentacle swarm,

From a bad hentai,

I jab my mop to cause them harm,

And try to make them die.

Success! They are dead.

The mop has made them mushy,

As I pull it by the head,

I think it will make good sushi.

The day goes on much the same,

And I see the pink-haired brat,

I clean on and hope she's tame,

Otherwise I toss her a rat.

As she munches on her treat,

I clean shoe-prints off the ceiling,

Thinking that, as fourth seat,

I will soon be done with cleaning.

I avoid Ikkaku once again,

He always looks to fight,

I have no intention of harming him,

and I do not fear his might.

As I lay down to sleep,

I think tomorrow will be another day,

Before I dream of counting sheep,

I think, 'Why is Yumichika so gay?'