Prologue
The stack of clothes, the laundry basket, and the dryer entered the room. A cold breeze swept in.
"Aye," the basket said, don't you guys hate the laundry? He was a mischievous one.
"Yes," the clothes said, "It makes me clean! I hate being clean! I don't want to be clean anymore!
"The laundry makes me do work... I don't like doing work," The dryer groggily answered.
The breeze said nothing and left the room. A new one entered the stage.
"Yes... Yes..." the new breeze replied. "Time to destroy this laundry." He revved the engines of his trusty bus.
A brief synopsis of the first act
The clothes... They never had to be clean again.
There was a set of eyes, it looked at the laundry basket. It was a horrifying sight! They promptly died.
The keys. Rusty, unusable.
One washing machine. Suffocated by the basket.
The basket itself... Torn to pieces.
The second washing machine and the dryer, they both perished in an epic battle.
Interlude
The wind was driving its spiffeh minivan through the laundromat. A strange sight, yet no one paid attention to it. They were still trying to figure out how all these objects suddenly broke. Students in a frenzy littered the building. The cold, however, had other things on his mind. The clothes, the basket, the dryer... they were already shattered into pieces! Who would he drive over now? He had no one. So finally, he said goodbye to his trusty minivan. He surveyed the laundromat, who would be his next target? The dryer sheet, the drinking fountain, errantparabola themselves? Ah, what is that? A card machine?
Act 2
The laundromat woke up. An icy temperature hung around. It seems like the card machine had perished to the freezing weather... It matters not. "I am not responsible for the sudden destruction!" the Student ID shouted. "Perchance I am, perchance I'm not," the dryer sheet said. This caught people's attention. He was their next target. In his dying breath, he whispered "I confess, it was me... I can't hold this secret any longer. Please forgive me." There was a big party! Everyone was celebrating, it was over! Their ordeal was over!
They woke up after a long night of partying, ready for more. But... Where was the drinking fountain? They found it. Its water frozen solid, shattered into pieces. The paranoia rose once again! Accusations started flying left and right. "It must be our sleep schedule that did this to us," althus the laundry detergent. "Nay, it's errantparabola themselves!" the Student ID viciously screamed. "Besides, I am not involved in this!" "Why are we ignoring the icy feeling of dread that hangs around us?" Errantparabola pondered. Eventually they started wondering... What if it was not who, but where? What if the very location were they were, the laundry room, was responsible for all this death and carnage? So they did what any sensible collection of miscellaneous objects in a story about doing the laundry would do: They smashed it to bits and pieces. Alas, it would accomplish nothing but an air of distrust.
Broken in half, the Student ID. As it turns out, it really had nothing to do with it all. Luckily they were well-rested thanks to the Sleep Schedule. The Laundry Detergent, however, asked out loud: "Well, well, well. Had a good night's rest, hmmmmmm? And why? Isn't that the first place where you sabotage if you're looking to ruin a laundry? Or how about... The main character of this tale itself?" Errantparabola was sweating. "It can't be me! I'm literally the main character!" The laundry detergent didn't believe them for a second. A chilly atmosphere soon engulfed them. "It's the cold, it's the cold, I swear!" they pleaded. The stairs soon followed suit. The Sleep Schedule had a very difficult choice to make... Was it his trusty friend, the always cheery and mykonian-loving Errantparabola? Or was it the sinister freezing breezing febreezing
cold
that was slowly creeping its way into every orifice? Alas, in a tragic twist of fate, Errantparabola was strangled by their closest pal.
Interlude 2
Stairs. Detergent. Schedule. Cold. A ragtag bunch, the Cold thought to himself. But unfortunately, they all had to perish. He already knew who he'd blame it on the next day. The problem was... Who would be the most easily persuaded? He paced around the ruins all night, for sleep he cared not. He was merely a concept and not a physical object, after all! Yet he did miss his Spiffeh minivan, and his old buddies. They seemed like such a distant memory now. Break the stairs, so no one could leave nor enter? Or disrupt the sleep schedule, so their thinking would be incapacitated? He made a choice.
Act 3
"Ugh, I didn't sleep very well," the laundry detergent groaned. "And why might that be?" The cold asked. "I don't really know... My sleep schedule was all jumbled up, I guess." "Oh, but I think you do know! You know very, very well why we didn't sleep regularly last night, don't you? You say you wash, you say you clean! But that's not the case! A traitor to the true laundry, it stands before you, stairs. You believing me is my only hope. Did I not reveal the clothes' evil deeds? Did I not support the breaking of the basket? Did I not cheer on as the washing machine battled the dryer? Nay, the detergent did none of those things. I rest my case." "That's not true!" They detergent answered. "He's a liar, he's a fraud! Don't believe his evil words!" A meek little "psssssssssssh" emanated from the detergent as it was crushed by the stairs, its liquid spilling all over the floor. But then, an icy cackle spread through the destroyed laundromat...
Epilogue
The cold had cleaned up. Quite a task, freezing all of those stairs! But he did it, and was proud of it. It had taken quite a few days, but the laundromat was completely destroyed, empty, devoid of all life. He was satisfied with his performance, and in the corner he spotted something.... Ah, his trust Spiffeh minivan. He tried the ignition, and yup, it still worked! He started it up, and drove away from that wretched place, into the sunset... He had earned a nice little vacation.
Fin
