The Cleaning Lady gathered her vacuum cleaner and headed off down the hallway towards the statue of Sir Cedric the Grizzler.
She knew all about Sir Cedric who in history had been better known as “Pain in the Arse Cedric.”
There wasn’t a day go past in his lifetime where he didn’t feel the need to complain about one thing or another. His saddle wasn’t on right, his spurs not sharp enough, his dinner was too hot or too cold, the list was endless.
In battle he suffered many defeats which he blamed on a number of issues, the weather was too hot or cold, his sword got stuck in its scabbard, his horse ran the wrong way and even on one day he claimed the enemy smelt so bad he could bring himself to engage with them.
Today his statue stood in solitary guard over the corridor leading to the castle exits.
The Cleaning Lady knew that as she’d approach he would start. She’d hear his voice saying, the vacuum was too loud, if she bumped his statue she’d hear him claim he was being assaulted, and when she attempted to dust him off she’d hear, “Get your dirty filthy hands off me.”
Cedric was predictable, but his voice seemed to think he had some sort of authority. She ignored him, not spooked as she was by the child’s voice and quickly did what she had to do to finish her shift and leave the castle to its own misery.