Murder at the Laundromat

I opened the door and was greeted by a grisly scene of horrible mutilation. They were grotesquely entwined, barely recognizable. My stomach rolled and I instinctively put my hands to my mouth to try and quell the nausea. I looked around - I was the only one in the Laundromat and the only one who had even the smallest chance of saving them.

I reached out and grabbed the blob of pink lace that was closest to the door. I pulled gently, then firmer, but to no avail. The tangled mess was still warm, but unmovable. I reached further, following the misshapen, sickeningly merged bundle to where it seemed to be fastened together. I tried hard not to think about what my hands were running over - the delicate beauty that had once been, the strong supporters now crying out silently for help ...

My hands finally found the spot they were fastened together - the spot from which they had been twisted round and round like ribbons on a Maypole. From a central hook just barely within my reach they hung - wrapped around each other so tightly that they were stretched beyond comprehension. I had to work fast to pull out the hook, release the tension and then drag them out into the light where they could be gently and carefully separated from each other. I knew there were only minutes before my efforts would be useless.

Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as I leaned over and flailed at the hook. I realized that I had to lean on them while doing this, increasing the tension on them, and a soft ripping sound warned me that I was just creating more damage.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whispered.

I was aware of movement behind me and turned to see what help had arrived. Breathless from my efforts, I could only point. Bob, owner of the Washday Laundromat pushed me aside, reached his long arm up and released the hook. The mutilated bundle fell with a sickening thud then seemed to sigh as it began to separate into more recognizable forms that were still bent into unnatural positions.

Bob looked at me in disgust, obviously thinking that I was somehow responsible for the inhuman mess. He poked the mass angrily. "How many times do I have to tell you women, hook your bra straps before you put them in the dryer?"