Laundry Woes Regular Show Novels & Stories

It is such unfortunate that I wasn't wicked enough to drag off his mask and reveal his facial expression. I started to walk away, an ocean of thoughts flowing in my mind. “I need to use my phone; it's in my bag. I didn't see it when—” “Your bag and clothes are in the laundry room,” announced Alvin. “I'll send someone to bring your bag for you. The dress is still being maintained.“ “What? Maintained?!“ I asked in utter disbelief. “Do you think I have time for that now? I'm not homeless like I said earlier. I have a—”

Starting with a photo, I raised one of my hands, blocking the sunlight from the window, allowing the light to bounce from my hand in a kind of dispersing effect. Smiling at the snapshot I just took, I gingerly kept it on the bed, grabbing my dirty clothes and placing them into the laundry basket, humming a song. Once I put them in, I realized how greatly they’ve pulled up, nearly toppling over the basket. Why do laundries not watch themselves when they see they are getting much for their owners to do? I pouted at my silly thoughts. Well, at least I’m doing them now, they should be grateful.

Once there was nothing but the wood, I picked up the laundry and headed down stairs. The laundry closet was next to the door that headed down into our gym. It was an laundromat sized washer and dryer, since we did sometimes have table clothes, napkins, and the drapes from the bar but it helped being able to wash huge loads of normal laundry as well. Shoving the towels and bedding into the washer, I started to strip down as well. My shirt, covered in red. My pants, covered in red. They all needed to go. Once shoved in, I turned on the washer after filling it with soap. Watching the water fill for a minute, I stared at it. My mind still completely blank. Only feeling the slight chill down here

They were the beggars living here. If Dad had not died without a will, then I would not have to be going through such, walking on tiptoes around them so I would get at least one square meal in two days if I was lucky enough. “Speaking of chores,” Sarah’s voice came up next. She dragged every syllable. “The laundry basket is overflowing. Take care of it, servant.” They all giggled at her word, Avery being the loudest. My nails dug into my palm, drawing blood. But I stayed calm, pushing my anger downward. I should not let it out. I should not.

"My mom just got in her work and ask me to bring our laundry here. She said a laundry girl will help me in this. Are you the laundry girl?" "Yes, I am. I will help you cleaning your laundry. Give me that." I took the basket on her and walk in the machine that I used to clean Mr. Right's clothes. It was already folded inside his basket. There are still nine hours before the night set in the sky.

On the way back to the car, two kids I recognize from her wedding picture run right into her legs as their mother squeezes and kisses her! After we leave what is apparently a hotel Spencer converted into an apartment complex, we head to a laundromat. This place is filthy, I can’t believe people wash their clothes here! Amory is grossed the fuck out with her OCD going into overdrive. She counts the machines quickly and makes a note of it before she has me measure the office and storage room while she waits outside. When I join her, she’s making notes on her phone!

At that point I knew I had to remind them I was here. “Hi guys I’m still here” I waved my hands. They laughed and we continued our washing. Suddenly a maid came into the laundry room. “Amanda I don’t think it’s a nice idea to wash the Alpha’s clothes in the same room as us” she scowled and went to take a seat.

Maybe just because she had been spending too much time home, she was being slaty. After taking a shower and getting dressed, Amara headed to the laundry room to start a load of laundry and Adrian’s clothes. She sorted the clothes, added the detergent, and turned on the washing machine. As she waited for the cycle to finish, she found herself lost in thought, now and then thinking about Rhys. She couldn't help but feel a heaviness in her chest as she imagined what he must be doing.

“Can you wash and dry them then? While I clean her up? They need to shrink a bit.” I took the tiny pajamas from her without any objection and strode down to the laundry room. I popped them into the washing machine, set it on a hot cycle, and then stood there, drumming my fingers impatiently on the metal lid while it hummed to life. The domestic normality of the task felt utterly bizarre against the backdrop of the night we'd had.