I want to mourn my separation from my devil nanny, but this new world does not let me rest as a new religious adventure is beginning, and on my noble stead I shall face it head-on.
Full of determination and vigor I get pushed into the new realm.
Once inside, however, I have the misfortune of meeting a dreadful man.
He was busy mopping the floor when I entered his sight, and when my gaze met his I shivered.
This fellow is the definition of the grumpy, old janitor.
As I get pushed by, I avoid eye contact as I fear meeting the lingering, terrifying gaze. Calm down Mr. Fitch the second, I'm just passing through.
Luckily, that was the end of our interaction. On God, I will never litter in front of that monster.
I got to say though. The man knows how to clean.
Other than the somewhat run-down look of the place outside, and the infrastructure that could use a rework, it is clean in here.
The recently mopped marble floor is so clean I could drink milk of it, and on it are placed rows of stainless comfy looking futons neatly arranged in front of a grand stele.
The stele is magnificent, fifteen meters tall and at least three to four meters wide its sturdy structure, reaching for the ceiling of the tall hall, is embellished with a beautiful mosaic of a crimson sun rising above an ocean.
It is really beautiful, It makes me want to go swim in that ocean.
I also see some people sitting on the futons bowing their heads to the stele.
This seems like a prayer hall, not that I would know I was too cool for Sunday church in my past life. It's hard to be a gangster.
Also, hold on. Am I dreaming or is that thing glowing? I'm pretty sure the sun on the stele is giving off a faint golden glow.
But before I can get a closer look, I lose sight of it as we enter a hallway through a door on the right of the room.
Damn! Again! What is it with these nuns and not letting me see stuff?
"Waa Waa Waaaaa waa Waa…"
In protest of the immense injustice, I decide to make her feel the power of my vocal cords, and nothing in this world will make me shut up before all my frustration is gone.
Soon, however, we enter a room at the end of the hallway, and my vocal cords met their match.
"WAAAA WAA WAAAAA WAA WAA…"
Holy smokes! How is this so loud?
No wonder the nun wasn't affected by my vengeance. The room we entered was full of cribs and crying babies, and each of them has way more vocal prowess than me.
I am both in awe of my fellow comrade's prowess and terrified for my future with them.
I'm probably gonna be living in this ruckus. My prediction is confirmed when the nun brings me to the back of the room to an empty crib and lies me down.
Please anything but this!
Lady, please.
Come on please this isn't necessary. Let's talk about this. Look at me I'm too cute to be tortured like this. My ears are too delicate for this. I won't cry again I promise, but please don't leave me in this place.
I give her my greatest puppy eyes, but she remains indifferent and leaves with my milk bottle after covering me in a blanket. Just like that, I spend the night listening to the cries of actual babies, not even the rest of the cold milk can soothe my suffering.
My only solace was when that when the nun came back to feed us, she refilled my refrigerated milk bottle and allowed a brief moment of silence as we all drank our calcium-filled goodies, and ate our apple mousse.
——————————————
The nuns are acting weird, for some reason they're avoiding me like the plague.
It only been two days since I got here, they can't hate me yet, there is a four day minimum for that.
They only get near me to change my diapers and to make sure I don't starve.
For any other attention I have to make a huge fuss.
Eventually, however, though a series of a series of, very vocabulary rich, negotiations I make clear that as long as I get my cold milk refill twice a day I will keep quiet.
Like this, my days passed among the crying toddlers.
It's so annoying!
During playtime, they are crying, during story time they are crying, during nap time they are crying. With each passing day, I become closer to becoming an old, grumpy janitor myself.
The only thing that keeps me from the janitorial abyss is expectation. The expectation of joining the older kids I catch glimpses of from time to time is the only thing keeping me sane.
The expectation and dreams of that happy grown-up future are bliss in this hell. I feel how they build up my sanity again every time I have them, but then HE begins.
He is the king of the crybabies. He is my crib neighbor. But most importantly HE is the harbinger of acoustic torture and my mortal enemy.
He makes this place hell.
I really hate it here.