It's Sunday, and I head to the bathroom. Not any bathroom, but the public bathroom where I work as a janitor part time. The job pays pretty well. I guess it's because many people find cleaning bathrooms distasteful. I don't. I have no problems working with poo and pee. It’s all just dirt in the end and doesn’t bother me. In fact, I get an odd satisfaction from making everything spic and span.
       Plus the Rumble in the Bathroom event keeps everything lively every week.
       There's this gang of four hoodlums that for some inexplicable reason have decided to make this particular bathroom their headquarters. Before I came along I guess they had their happy days smoking cigarettes or farting or whatever it is they found enjoyable doing here.
       I changed all that. This is because my boss, a soft spoken middle-aged man with spectacles, bases my salary directly on the bathroom’s shininess when he comes to inspect it at the end of the day. My boss may not look so tough, but he's tough as nails when it comes to determining my salary. Not an extra yen paid if he sees a mess here. Since MY MONEY is on the line, pigs will fly before I let a bunch of hoodlums mess up my handiwork. I harbor no illusions as to what will happen if I let them through: the hoodlums always carry spray paint cans with them when they show up. Come to think of it, that's probably the other reason my boss is paying me so well. Maybe I'm his tough guy. 
       Speaking of the devils. Here they come now.
       I never learned their real names. So for convenience's sake I call the one with the punch perm Ba-kun. The one with the lisp I call Ka-kun. The one with the slanted eyes and crooked teeth I call Ya-kun. And the guy who always ends his sentences with the biker slang 'Yoroshiku!' I call Ro-chan, 'cause I once had a dog called Ro(ku)-chan. Besides, this way if I wanted to call them all at once I can just yell BAKAYARO! Quite convenient. 
       For their part, the Bakayaro Gang just refer to me as Toileto-kun. I don’t mind. I doubt their combined brain cells can process anything harder.
       “We’re gonna get you today, Toileto-kun!” screeches Ba-kun. He motions to the others, and they rush me. 
       I sigh. “Here we go again.”
       Ya-kun arrives ahead of the others so I grab him first and start to put him into a hold. Strange. It seems a little TOO easy today. He smirks. 
       “Gotcha.” He grabs me in return and yells, “Get ‘im, guys!” 
       On his signal, the other three hoodlums ready their punches. Wow. A trap. They really thought it through this time. They’ve put me in a tight spot. I’ll give them that.
       Time to get this over with. I start with Ya-kun, who is attempting some ineffective hold he probably learned online. I don’t really know what else to do, so I throw him across the room. Then I grab Ka-kun’s collar and hurl him into Ro-chan, and they both go tumbling into a pile of toilet paper. I spin around with an aerial scissors kick that catches Ba-kun right at the chest and brings him crashing down to the ground. Then I twist around and put him in an armlock.
       While he is struggling to get out of my death grip, a few cheap-looking blue plastic gems fall out of his pocket. They look like gems from some doll house play set. What’s a bunch of hoodlums doing with playhouse stuff? 
       I grab them with a free hand. “What are these?”
       “Like I’m gonna tell...ow...OW...OWWW! Easy! Easy!”
       “I’m gonna do a lot worse if you don’t fess up.”
       “Energy gems! They're energy gems! They prevent you from getting sick or shift the stars in your favor, enriching your love life!”
       “Seriously?”
       “Seriously.”
       “Uh huh. So do I need to do a little dance and chant 'Puni puni magiku star powa!' when I use them?”
       “What? I don’t know. I don’t thin- OW! OW! OWWW! Okay! Okay! You can trade them in for a better phone plan!”
       “Finally you say something sensible. Go on.”
       “They're tokens issued by StarBank Telecom. A new promotion gimmick. You collect five of them and they give you a huge discount on your phone plan!”
       “See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?”
       I lift him up and throw him into the other three, who are in the middle of getting up, sending them all into a jumble again.
       I flash the cheap gems at them. “My phone plan stinks so I'll be keeping these. Consider them payment for 'teaching' you judo every week!”
       “You haven't seen the last of us! We'll be back!” they call out as they scamper away. They always say that. I watch them go. I don’t hate them really. It’s hard to hate total idiots.
       Yup, my janitorial job is so much more fun with the Bakayaro Gang. I better get to real cleaning now.