A young woman grunts and groans as she throws dirty laundry into different piles, grumbling about how many clothes her husband and children go through in a week. Whites fly through the air and land into the pile with other whites; underwear and bras land in the delicate pile; dark colors with the dark colors and light colors with the light colors. Jeans and shorts make up about three piles since there are so many, making the young woman grumble under her breath once again. She shoves a strand of her mousy brown hair from her lightly tinted green eyes and stands up, placing her hands on her hips and stares at the mounds of laundry before her. Cursing under her breath, she grabs up the towels for the first pile of laundry to be done for the day. Heading off through the kitchen and into the laundry room, she drops the towel onto the floor and throws open the washing machine.

Turning the dials and pushing the button, the washing machine comes alive, spewing out water into the round basin, mixing with the laundry detergent she pours in. Throwing in the towels, she lets the washing machine slam closed and heads back into the kitchen to grab her first cup of coffee for the morning, enjoying the relaxing silence around her, her husband and two children already gone off to work and school. Sipping the steaming coffee, she stares out of the kitchen window, smiling as she sees the roses that she had planted a while ago, starting to bloom and take shape. Her eyes scans the flowers mingling in her garden, ready to spring their beauty upon the world when they are ready.

The sounds from the washing machine seems to grow louder, a grunting and growling emitting from the watery towels. Putting her cup down and tying her robe tighter around her slim body, she glides into the laundry room and opens the washing machine, the spin cycle stopping and the towels laying in the water, almost seeming annoyed that they have stopped their bath. Shaking her head and laughing at her imagination, she closes the lid and allows the towels to continue their bath. Heading back into the kitchen she grabs a bowl and pours herself some Special K Berries cereal with milk and sits down at the table after grabbing her coffee cup. Eating, sipping her coffee, and reading the newspaper consists most of her morning, only getting up once in a while to add laundry to the washing machine and drying the batch that had already been in there. Finishing her cereal and coffee, she goes into the master bedroom and readies the bathtub for a relaxing bubble bath. Stepping into the comforting warm waters, she sighs and sits down, letting her body sink beneath the bubbles and relax for an hour.

After her bubble bath, she wipes away the water with her freshly washed towel, smelling the sweet flowery fragrance left behind from the laundry detergent. Getting dressed in clothes that she wears around the house, one of her husband’s old shirts and a pair of old shorts, and heads back into the living room, grateful to see only one more pile of clothes left, the whites, and grabs them up, hearing the ding from the dryer to indicate that the lights were now done drying and ready for the delicate clothes. Scooping up the whites, she heads into the laundry room, her face confused as she once again hears the growling sounds now mixed with the sounds of something eating in her washing machine.

Dropping her pile onto the ground as she had done with each and every pile of laundry each and every week, she slowly moves to the washing machine, her hand shaking as she reaches out for the lid and slowly opens it. She peers in to see something move under the clothes and hears a slurping type sound, seeing a pair of underwear just disappear. She gasps and lets go of the lid, her hand covering her mouth as she steps back. The clothes begin to bubble out of the washing machine and drop in a wet mess on the ground in front of the washing machine, two glowing green eyes, the same color as the laundry detergent, peeking out of the few clothes still levitating over the washing machine. A watery hand slips out from under the clothes and grabs onto the edge of the washing machine, the other watery hand pushing off the rest of the clothes. The young woman’s eyes grow wide with fear and a scream emits from her mouth as she pushes herself up against the wall across from the washing machine, trying to stay away from the thing staring at her.

The watery laundry monster just watches the woman scream, chewing on a black bra and cocking its head to the side. The monster, growing annoyed with the screams, finishes his bra and launches itself forward, growling and roaring at the woman. She screams one last time before she falls faint to the ground, the monster laughing and sinking backwards into the washing machine but not before he gobbles up a few socks and shirts. He disappears back into the washing machine, and slides through the many holes just as the water does during the rinse cycle and moving onto the next house for more lovely laundry to munch on, Monday’s always being his favorite day because on the quiet neighborhood of Naples St. Mondays mean laundry days.