The Sticky Floor Diaries: My Life as a Porn Theater Mop Guy

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Chapter 1: A Unicorn Appears

My path to being a paid comedian — a fact that still shocks me — is littered with strange and unusual jobs.  I never knew what I wanted to do to earn money.  The only thing I knew for sure was that I never wanted to wear a tie. 

I have worked at liquor stores, produced films, and been a clown, but none of these jobs were half as entertaining as the eight months I spent working at a porn store.

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Because my neighborhood was classy, the porn store I worked at had a theater.  People would come in to watch masterpieces such as “Gaped Angels” or “Hey! This Chick’s Got a Dick.”Â  In lieu of applause, the audience would show their appreciation by dumping their socially awkward loads all over the floor. 

Without a doubt, the worst part of the job was cleaning the theater at the end of the night.  I would liken it to scraping the production floor of the Elmer’s Glue factory.

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Like everything else in life, there is balance.  Yes, I was forced to clean up the man-batter at the end of the shift, but I was also in charge of the all-powerful buzzer.  See, the theater’s door was controlled by a buzzer at the counter.  Prospective jizz slingers would come to the front desk and pay for admission. 

After they then made their way back to the theater, I would hit a buzzer to let them enter. The buzzer served as a notice to “zip up.”Â  If the cops came in, and you were tugging away, you ran the risk of being busted up river, Pee Wee Herman style. 

The theater also had a closed-caption TV system, so we could monitor the shenanigans inside the theater.  The combination of a behavior changing button and a monitor with which I could watch everything unfold were the precise tools needed to turn my job into half-baked sociological experiments. 

I had the power to hit the door buzzer, watch grown men scramble to get their cocks away, and watch them sit still as if quietly enjoying “Filthy Fuck Angels.”

99% of the time the theater was occupied by lonely, horny men, desperately hoping a woman would come and join them.  I laughed at their ridiculous optimism.  Then, one dark night, a unicorn appeared.  It was a woman.  A real, live woman.  She had a man with her, but she was there.  She wasn’t a freak show either.  She had all of her limbs, none were fused together, and she appeared to have a full set of chromosomes. 

She may have been a bit overweight, and she was much closer to retirement age than drinking age, but for a porn theater, she was a solid 9. 

The two of them came up to the counter, paid for admission, and headed back to the theater.  I simultaneously hit the buzzer to let them in and flipped on the theater monitor to see what would happen. 

Once the couple sat down, it didn’t take long for the action to get started.  She started blowing her man, quickly causing the rest of the men to circle her like vultures around fresh roadkill. 

Her man backed away, letting the others pounce on her.  She was bent over a row of chairs getting fucked by a stranger while blowing a different stranger.  Meanwhile, all of the onlookers were furiously masturbating. 

Things were really heating up, until “BZZZZZZZZ.”Â  I hit the door buzzer.  Pants came up.  Dicks were put away.  Everyone took their seat. 

Just a few feet away, there was a gangbang taking place, and I was going to control the pace and tempo.  The audience sat quietly, restraining themselves from movement.  It didn’t take long, however, for everyone to resume their positions. Within minutes, she was bent over with lines of eager cocks waiting for entry at either end.  Things were working into a frenzy, then “BZZZZZZZZ!” There was a mad scramble back to the seats. 

This went on two more times until I felt an overwhelming guilt for allowing myself to become a Guinness World Records level cock blocker.  I mean if this woman wanted to take on all-cummers, who was I to stop it?  Plus, the joke wasn’t as funny anymore. 

So I let them be to finish their jobs. After an hour or so, she emerged looking like she had just gotten off a janky carnival ride.  Her hair was a mess, she was walking funny, and she had a smile on her face.  She and her man said, “good night,” and left.

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Slowly, the rest of the audience trickled out and went back to their real lives.  I had a good laugh thinking about the power I had over the whole experience.  Then it came time to closeup, and as I worked to mop up all their floor-coating DNA, I realized it was they who were getting the last laugh.

Next time on the Sticky Floor Diaries, we will meet Clint the heroin addict, who enjoyed choking on big, black cock.

 

Photo Attributions:

Theater: photo credit: Yelling Fire in an Empty Theater via photopin (license)

Store Sign: photo credit: Next Door to Fawlty Towerrs via photopin (license)

Woman: photo credit: Enjoying a fully clothed bath via photopin (license)

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