Shaun Lewis: the Man, the Myth, the Legend

Tonight is Thursday.

[True Story]

The room was dark and a sense of foreboding was present. Perhaps it was the smell of the dirty laundry, or perhaps it was the apparition that kept writing cryptic messages in an out-dated, archaic language with the blood from goats sacrificed in my room, whatever it was, I knew something bad was going to happen. Despite this feeling of what was to come, I lived my day out as usual.

Dawn came and went, leaving me sleeping underneath my covers. At around 10:30 a.m., I woke up to go to class. The walk to class may have appeared normal, with my usual greetings to the banjo-playing hippie uptown, the lecture inside the movie theater, and the chilly February weather, but on the inside, there was definitely something amiss. I continued with my day, however. I lived it the best I could.

After a slow afternoon, evening came. It was time for laundry. I gathered all the clothes that were strewn about my room and shoved them into a small laundry basket. The time for cleansing had arrived.

I walked down to the laundry room, where only 3 washers were not in use. As if an omen, a figurative ring of fire seemed to burn around them. Somehow, they were right next to each other, untouched by the hands of people washing their attire.

Throwing my clothes into them, I waited the customary 30 minutes for the spin cycle to complete. Next, I took the dripping clothes and put them into the dryer. As I did this, a chill ran down my spine. There was only one other person in the room. A male that I had never seen before.

The time was 5:00 p.m. and I needed to eat dinner. I started out of the room and suddenly, I stopped. I could feel someone looking at me, watching my every move. I turned to see the male switching glances between me… and my dryers. I had never considered that it would be unsafe to leave my clothes by themselves. I figured it would take an evil, desperate soul to steal someone’s underwear.

Still, I walked out of the room into a game of anxious waiting. All throughout dinner I sat still, thinking of my clothes, thinking of my shirts, my pants, my unmentionables, but most of all… I was thinking of my socks.

After dinner, I hurried downstairs to the laundry room. No one was there. The man was gone, without a trace left of him. There was an eerie silecen in the room. My dryers were shut off.

I crept towards the silent machines and the thought of somebody stealing my laundry once again appeared in my mind. “He couldn’t have, could he?” I thought, “No. There is no way.”

Opening the dryer revealed the truth. The answer to my questions about the inherent evil in all men was finally shown to me.

My clothes were safe and sound exactly where I left them. Unfortunately, they were not folded. The moral of the story: my life is boring.