Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • This job is not always a window into filth, sometimes pleasant conversations happen; sometimes it is just plain boring.

    There are nights, especially Sundays that come after Saturday’s night abuses, in which sitting on my wheeled chair feels like divine punishment. The hours are long and mostly uneventful -but then there are some other nights, in which I feel like the privileged testimony of society’s B side.

    King of my castle I sit on my scrawny throne and the world comes to me. I explore humans during the hours in which they stray the most from their respectable façade. I take care of my subjects providing them with blankets and Wi-Fi access, directing them to parties in Pigalle and picking up their empty beer cans.

    I get paid minimum wage to watch over a screechy hotel. I make sure that dawn comes without night people leaving any marks, so that in the morning they can forget we exist.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.