According to my ever so reliable informant, aka my sister, words have it on the street that my landlord, aka my brother will be back in town tomorrow night. This heads-up was later confirmed by my domestic intelligence services, aka my mother. This valuable intel set off a frenzy of cover up and clean up activities at the operation base, aka my pig stile, aka my brother's condo.
Operation No Stain was covertly kicked off at 1000 hours (when I woke up) with more intel gathering and a sit-rep, followed by drawing up an air-tight strategic plan to combat the surprise assault. It was finally set in motion full steam ahead at 1200 hours. Classified documents, aka old newspapers and flyers were destroyed in the incinerator. DNA, aka hair, skin and nails (no bodily fluid!) were carefully lifted and collected. Physical evidence, aka the trash were bagged and binned. Impression evidence, aka the water marks on the windows and finger prints on the mirror were wiped clean. Traces of incriminating substances, aka oily residues on the stove and gravy stains on the dinning table were swabed spotless. The crime scene, aka the condo, was washed and scrubbed with copious amount of industrial cleaning fluids.
Finally, Operation No Stain successfully completed at 1500 hours.
Good thing I got the scoop early. Good thing today is a holiday so I have time to tidy up the place. Good thing I'm all prepared. The best thing: I spoil the landlord's element of surprise.
OK, that's my best impression of an evil laugh when I'm all beat, from the whole day labor of mopping and washing.