I found these brooms when I worked at a kindy gym named ‘Gymbaroo’. For twenty dollars an hour, for one hour a week, I would set up and pack away a variety of children’s play equipment in a dusty hall in Taren Point, pretending I didn’t smell the teenage janitors smoking marijuana and having pre-marital sex in the janitors closet. I met them once, and they offered me some of their demon-weed and told me how they dropped out of high school to start a family. But this is about this fucking broom.
|‘LINDA YOU MUST RESPECT YOUR DUTY BEFORE YOU BECOME A CANTEEN LADY’|
|‘DON’T TOUCH LINDA’S BROOM’|
Look at that broom. Just look at it and appreciate all the nuances of its existence. Sometimes I think this broom was put on earth just to fuck with me. If my friends weren’t lazy and/or good natured, I’d expect an elaborate prank. This must be what a creationist feels like, baffled and alone.There are just so many unanswered questions, so we shall explore them:
* Who is Linda? This is her broom, yet why is it addressed to her? Did someone take her broom, etch a message on it to remind her of her duty? If so, what duty was she neglecting? Was she trying to rise through the ranks to become a canteen lady? Did she then, upon receiving this warning, write a riposte herself, warning her tormentors to not touch her broom?
* Or did Linda write this upon her own broom as a form of self motivation? Why is she writing in third person? Is she a narrator? Is she THE narrator? In this particular blog post, no, I can categorically say she is not the narrator. I am, and my name is Patrick. Hi. But she might still be a narrator. Somewhere.
* Was Linda the previous janitor before the current teens, or as I like to call them ‘The Most Depressingly Real Modern Version of Romeo And Juliet?’ If so, we can envision her grimly sweeping the hall after the 9pm badminton, gritting her teeth and repeating under her breath ‘Linda, you must RESPECT your duty before you can become a canteen lady’, her powerful strokes driving the dust back in miniature hurricanes. Each time the brooms head hit the floor, Linda imagining she is sweeping the laughing faces of her detractors, perhaps a mocking hegemony of tuck-shop ladies who refused her into their clique.
* Did Linda have a previous issue with people touching her broom? What were they doing with the broom? Was it butt stuff? It was probably butt stuff.
* Is Linda a witch? Was this some kind of Quidditch thing? Probably not.
LACK OF STARS:
We can only be sure of one thing – Linda loved her broom. She didn’t want anybody to touch it. Would Linda leave it in a dusty storeroom? Never, not Linda’s broom. We have to assume she is dead. Did she ever reach her lofty aspirations as a canteen lady? We’ll never know. We can only hope she’s sweeping in heaven now, serving sausage rolls to the angels.