Photo from Victoria Palacios at Unsplash
Rating: Mature (Language)
The doll didn’t fit.
He shoved harder. It will fit.
The.doll.did.not.fit.
Fuck.
He needed to wash it before returning it.
It would be creepy to wash it in a tub like a real person.
Stupid. Fucking. Ugh!
Fred yanked it out. Didn’t laundrymats have large washers? Maybe in the back near the attendant giving him the stink eye.
He pushed the doll body in the mobile laundry basket, limbs flopping over the sides, feet and hands trailing through the day’s grime, dryer sheets, and loose threads until he found the monster machines used to wash sleeping bags and king-sized comforters.
This time he stuck it in feet first, shoving in the butt next, followed by the head. The hands and arms crammed in any which way. The black hair was the worst, clinging to his hands, but he got the door shut without anything catching.
He poured coins and detergent in, set the machine to chugging and agitating, then waited, texting a cute girl he met on campus earlier this week and responded to various emails and facebook posts for other women he had recently met, trying to decide who next to use the amulet on. Someone smaller who would fit in the normal washers.
Seventy-two hours – three days of bliss, before dumping the doll off somewhere, clean and untraceable. Archaeology is the best major of all time.
(words 228; first published 6/23/2019)
Absolutely brilliant!!!! What a twist at the end….