Germaphobe George
“G’morning!” Mr. George Germi greeted his wife Lisa as he sat down at their kitchen table. “Good morning, dear,” she replied sitting down at the small, ornate wooden table with her husband. “Breakfast?” Mr. Germi asked his wife. “Sure, dear,” Lisa got up, walked to their butcher block countertops, and put some toast in the toaster. She turned the toaster up to the highest degree. Then she put some glossy eggs in a stainless steel pan on the stove top. “Wash your hands, please!” George instructed his wife. “Would you like eggs this morning?” Lisa asked scrubbing her hands. “You know how I like my breakfast, Lisa,” George said sternly. He wasn’t a very picky person, but when it came to things that could contain germs he was very picky. George was a germophobe, which means he had a fear of germs.
Mrs. Lisa Harold served her husband some burned bread - which is his germ free breakfast. “You know, dear, some people think it is sort of weird we don’t have the same last name,” Lisa complained. “Our last names are the same. When you married me you became a Harold.” “I know. But you go by Germi.” “It’s just a nickname.” “But it’s… sort of… I dunno… It’s weird. Our neighbors, the Herrings, they go by the nickname Gardeners because they are the best gardeners in town, but they are both called the Gardeners. Not just Mr. Herring, who is the actual gardener.” “Well, if you want, you can be called Germi, too,” George offered. “I don’t want to be called a Germi. I want you to be called a Harold,” she complained. “I’ll think about it.” George concluded. Lisa ate her eggs in silence.
When they finished, George got ready for work. He put on his jacket and shoes, grabbed his work bag, and wooden cane because he never wanted to fall on the ground and expose himself to germs. Lisa got up and washed the dishes, which was pretty easy, given that she only had to wash one coffee cup - George didn’t drink coffee (who knows why) - two plates and one egg pan. Then she went to the front door to kiss her husband goodbye. “Goodbye, dear!” Lisa called as he left to catch his bus. “Bye!” He called back. “See you in ten minutes!” she called after him. “You know I’ll be later than that!” He replied “I don’t really think so…” she mumbled closing the door.
When George arrived at the bus stop, he grabbed a cloth out of his bag and mopped his forehead, even though he didn’t have a drip of sweat on his whole body. Then he threw the rag away - he really threw it. George did not want to get too close to the trash bin because he did not want to catch a disease. George leaned on his sumptuous cane as he waited for the bus.
When the bus arrived, he gingerly walked up the steps careful not to touch or brush anything on the wall or door. Instead of sitting down, George reached into his bag and pulled out a zip-lock bag. Inside the bag were sanitary wipes. He pulled a couple out and cleaned a handle bar top to bottom. He put his used wipes in an new and empty bag and set it on a seat - he didn’t want to have anything to do with something that could possibly be coated in bacteria. He held onto the handle as the bus moved on to the next stop. George grabbed the handle too soon - it was still wet! George lost his grip as the bus hit a bump in the road. George fell to the dirty, crummy, grimy, contaminated floor. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” George screamed jumping back up. Just then, his bus stop came into view. “Quiet man! We’re almost there!” The bus driver growled. He was right.
The bus stopped, and everyone got out. “What is your problem!?” The bus driver interrogated George. “I fell on that unkempt, bedraggled floor!” George spat back. “Sorry for spitting on you if I did. I can assure you I am not sick - though you can never be too careful. I take germs very seriously.” George apologized. “I can see that - If I am not mistaken, you cleaned a handle bar and slipped on it!? You seem to do that every day!” The bus driver complained. “I’m sorry.” George apologized again. “LEAVE!” The driver roared. George stayed silent as he got out of the bus. “Well, be on your way!” He yelled closing the door to the bus. “WAIT!” George yelled. “What?” the bus driver asked opening the door back up, reluctantly. “Can I get a drive home?” George asked meekly. “NO!” The driver closed the door for the last time. George turned around and walked home.
