Broom Guy

Marvin looked into the crowd at all the happy faces. None of them looked back at him. Their eyes were fixed on the firetruck twenty metres head, and the man sitting atop the vehicle, dressed in a dinosaur costume. Marvin longed for the crowds to notice him, even if it was just once. He forced a smile and waved, in a desperate attempt to gauge a response, a reaction, anything. Disheartened, he went back to his sweeping.

Later that evening, Marvin slowly walked up the steps to his apartment. He opened the door, threw his broom on the floor and flopped onto his couch. He lay motionless with his eyes closed, imagining that it was he who was standing on the firetruck. Marvin opened his eyes and was brought back to reality. His broom was on the floor, where he had thrown it, and tomorrow it would be another day of sweeping.
“Snap out of it, boy,” he said to himself as he made his way to the bathroom. “You are a street sweeper. Nothing more.”

The following week was the annual librarian ticker-tape parade. Marvin was some distance behind the floats, sweeping up the confetti that was streaming through the air. As he was sweeping, he started tapping his feet to the music. Before he knew it, he was dancing down the street, spinning and twirling, using his broom as a guitar. He looked over and saw a young girl, clapping her hands and laughing. Yes! Thought Marvin. He did a double spin and let go of his broom. He watched in horror as it went sailing through the air and jammed between the spokes of the head float’s front wheel, halting it with a jolt. The other floats crashed into it, causing screaming librarians to fall off into the street. Behind them all, in full view, was Marvin.

Laying on his couch that evening, the words of his supervisor played through his head. I’m warning you, Cranford! One more slip-up like that and you are out, do you hear? Marvin stared at his broom, lying on the floor as always. Suddenly, he jumped up off his couch. “I’ll just make sure that I don’t slip-up,” he said to himself and, picking up his broom, ran to his bedroom.

Two months went by, and Marvin was working at the Pet Owner’s Mardi Gras. He kept his head down as he swept, biding his time. He had to pick the right moment. He swept out in front of him and did a frog jump. He looked around and did it again. And again. Now! he thought to himself. He kicked his leg in the air and twirled his broom. Lifting his knees high he marched down the street behind the cars and floats. Behind him, he heard someone call out, “Look at the broom guy!” With a running leap Marvin jumped up onto the head float. He put his broom between his legs and leaned back and waved. The crowd started chanting. Broom guy! Broom guy! Marvin closed his eyes and outstretched his arm.
“Look at me now, Ma!” he cried out.
Marvin knew that he shouldn’t, that this was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. If this was to be his final hour as a street sweeper, he was going to make sure that it would be his finest.

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