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Oh man, here I go, the fucking kid spilled his juice, I guess the mom is about to grab me. Yup she did it. I guess I'm going in head first.

Oh man, this is gross. Ugh, she's just dipping my face into this juice, ugh I'm getting so soggy. At least I'm Bounty strong so I'm not tearing, that's nice. I don't have to deal with the rips, just the gross wet feeling all over my body and the purple tint. I'm pretty sure I'm picking up old dirt and dust that was already on this table too. Damn, this is so disgusting. At least it's almost over.

Oh she's taking me to the sink and.... oof, she's wringing me out. She squeezing me into a ball and squeezing the juice out of me. This hurts, I am not a fan at all. And the worst part is, if she's wringing me out, in means she's about to shove me back into the gross purple puddle again.

Yup, here I go. Ughh... if only I was some masochist, then I might actually enjoy this. If only I had something nice to look forward to. I should really savor this though, because once she's done using me up she's just going to throw me in the garbage with some smelly rotten fruit and raw chicken bits.

I really hope in my next life I'm reincarnated into something better like a cardboard box.

Its dark. It often is, but its peaceful in a nice quiet way. Just remaining in place, surrounded by shelves of other important and less important things and foods just waiting to be used for their greater purposes.

Theres sounds outside, birds perhaps. Fluttering far above in the sky. Perhaps I shall go there if a strong breeze wishes it so. Purhaps I will become too laden with my task to even dream of such a thing.

Its light now. Sudden and blinding, if I had eyes. Instead it is but a sense, a knowledge infused, lightening the bright white pure cleanliness off my sheets.

Will it be today that I shall have knowledge that my goals have been fufilled?

Perhaps not. The darkness encloses once more. Something taken from shelves beside me, or perhaps just loaned. With great stories to tell from its adventure. Or maybe silence. Not all like to talk, reminiscence, explain.

There is light again. Movement. Picked up, placed down.

It is outside, there are cicadas chirping, the sunlight bright and heated. A quick spray of cleaning liquid onto a table, outside thrumming with summer energy and excitement. Its not often the humans are here.

It is time.

A sheet selected, folded over in half, and with the sound of crashing waves faint as background noise the paper towel sweeps across the table. Is that tomato sauce from a tasty french fry that fell before it could be sampled? And perhaps a little spot of bird poop from the skies up above.

Dirt and memories sweep from the table, creating cleanliness, a fresh start. The paper towel gets it all, ripping only slightly in the center where a wooden splinter caught it.

I have done my job now. The paper towel knows.

It sinks into its new home, filled with wood and kindle. Ablaze it knows no longer as its last moments provide warmth and light to those it once helped cleanse.

It has done well. And its breathern shall also.

Hi u/StandardFee5124, this submission has been removed.

Prompts go in the title, do not extend into text. You can add commentary in the text, but don't add additional prompt restrictions. Also, avoid too many details.

• From Rule 6: Prompt users in the title, but don't play writing games or commission stories

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