Willy the Washer and Dick the Dryer, front-loading judgmental assholes, came with the apartment. For appliances that are supposed to save energy, they sure waste a lot of mine.
The two Cyclopes, each with its own gigantic eye made from sturdy clear plastic, stand side by side in the bathroom and face the toilet. They’ve really been on my case lately.
“Why the hell do I have to wash load after load again today? You’re a single guy, how much fuckin’ laundry do you have?” Willy whined as he rolled his eye, its color a mix of whites and pastels. “And on the sanitary cycle? Since when do you even know how to use the sanitary cycle?”
“Since that skank fucked his brains out a couple of weeks ago,” Dick deadpanned.
“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s not a skank,” I protested.
“Sure she is,” Dick stared at me, blacks and grays in his eye. “Look at you, sitting on the toilet naked, your pubes and armpits soaked in that lotion.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Willy swayed side to side, waddling a whole foot toward me to get a better look at my crotch.
“Willy, my dear friend,” said Dick, “you’re running on sanitary because not-a-skank gave our boy here crabs.”
“Crabs?! Are you fuckin’ serious?! I’m full of dead parasites right now?!” Willy rolled his eye with such dramatic flair that I thought it would get stuck up there. “Oh, I can’t even… You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
I looked down and could see the bluish spots where the lice had fed, still itchy. I squeezed out some lotion between my fingers and rubbed it on my pubes.
I hate it when the Cyclopes are right.
Originally published as an entry to November Zeroflash Competition, 2017.