The Case Of The Haunted Laundromat

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The Case Of The Haunted Laundromat
12.21.07 (4:40 am)   [edit]

See that laundry cart over there (the one just left of center)? That's the one! He (or she, who knows WHAT gender they are, sure can't tell by lookin' at their skinny frame) attacked me several months ago, with no one else HUMANOID around. It was a knock-down, hard-floor, cold-core wrassle-and-punch fest. Nobody human to witness or pull a 911 on 'em. And me with my hands full (and feet, and arms, and legs, and torso and butt and COCK)!

So the OTHER laundry carts gang up on me, soon as I hit the ground! I finally get the upper hand, manage to EXTRICATE myself from this tangled drubbing, to beat a hasty exit.

That one (the right-of-center, not the one in front but the one just BEHIND him...maybe you can't see him in the pic, I had to take a photo at night through the plate-glass window really QUICK, so's they wouldn't catch on) had the NERVE to follow me outside, for two friggin' LONG city blocks! TAUNTING me all the way, called me "Faggot!" at least a dozen times. DEMANDED I hand over all my boxer briefs, T-shirts and socks.

"Alright, I've had just about ENOUGH of this crap" I says to no one in particular, whip out my canister of pepper spray. And declare to the wiry punk: "You call me FAGGOT, then demand my UNDERwear? What are you, some kinda PERVERT?"

Well, I musta said the right thing 'cause the heavy-metal BITCH turns on her wheels and rattles swiftly in the other direction, vanishes in a FLASH.

Now, I don't cotton to laundry carts that can talk and walk. MY take is this: that laundromat's HAUNTED, and these carts are possessed by what I coin "Wash 'n' Dry Poltergeist". The previous owner, Margaret, died about twelve years ago. But that doesn't explain the OTHER spirits who inhabit the ADDITIONAL three or four carts. She prolly attracts them. Margaret was NOT a nice lady, I know that firsthand. Her face was always pinched in disgust, she always wore muddy-shaded, baggy drawstring workout pants and sweatshirts (no doubt unwanted droppings of her laundry clientele). She had washed-out, dish-watery blue eyes, and curly drab hair the EXACT shade of fuzz left behind in those dryer lint traps. Maybe she crafted WIGS outta the stuff!

One day while pouring BLEACH into a machine, it splashed up and into my face and eyes! Margaret was a mere 10 feet away, folding customer orders. "Margaret," I pleaded, covering my eyes with both hands, "I just spilled Clorox on my face. Please let me into your washroom to flush it out."

She just stood there, mute, defiant. So I runs ALL the way home to take care of it properly, CUSSING her all the way to my own sink, and DURING the washing, and DURING my return walk to the laundromat, and DURING the remainder of my time there (under my breath of course)...and DURING most of the rest of that stupid day. I never was friendly to Margaret again, and NEVER returned to that laundromat until AFTER her bless-ed extinction.

You could be reading a mag while your soapy-wet clothes are doin' the herky-jerky and the hokey-pokey and incestuous acts so naughty they'd wind up doin' PRISON laundry were they human...or just folding shirts and towels and dainty underthings...when one of those devil carts will just TAKE OFF unbidden by any human hand. Bump right up against you, as if it didn't know WHAT the heck it was doing! In fact, I know one PARTICULAR laundry cart that will ALWAYS roll away from you no matter HOW many times you set it against the dryer. I NO LONGER use that one. In fact, I don't even go NEAR it. There's more:

A few weeks ago I was by myself again, waiting for my clothes to dry and BORED out of my skull listenin' to that HORRID piped-in LaundroMUZAK, when three (get that: I said THREE, not two, not one, but THREE) laundromat carts roll smack dab into each other, then as a group, proceed RAPIDLY to the front ONLY means of escape!

But I'm sharper than a tack and a FAST little fucker. I caught on QUICK, and just at the very last moment DASH towards the door, leaving my almost-done clothes behind (for later retrieval, with people present), and KNOCK those sinister wheelies asunder in my brazen depart.

Even more recent (oh, approx eight days ago):

Right when I insert a cabbage leaf into the change machine, this cart (not shown in photo) bumps right into my extended paw and DRAWS BLOOD. My quarters clankety-clank into their receptacle as BLOOD spills down on them from above, making them UNUSABLE for the nonce! I immediately return home to WASH the quarters and tend my wound. In hindsight, I suspect the COIN MACHINE is in cahoots with these forlorndry carts.

I ALSO surmise that these bully carts get around at night, once the laundromat is closed. And have ASSOCIATES on the outside, do their bidding. In fact, I have my PI on that shopping cart pictured below.

It was CAUGHT running drugs by a detective buddy of mine, last August. But RELEASED because the evidence had mysteriously disappeared before the case came to trial. My compadre though, didn't seem to mind one whit: he just grinned and grinned for WEEKS, glazed far-away look in those gorgeous golden-brown eyes. Is there a moral to this tale? Why yes, there is (and thank you for asking):

When washing or drying your clothes at Margaret's laundromat, there is NO safe quarter!

coffee, tea, or
get * together over
e-mail me...and we'll *
the web, whereby you can
you up to * discover my story on
my guardian angel Randolph * to set
* to present you with a * copy. Leaving it to
20 December 2007. Friend: I will not seek you out
(and directly * inspired this tale) on the day my mother * died:
jet-black-haired young man at * the laundromat, who made me laugh
This ghastly LaundroTale is dedicated to the charming, handsome and TALL,


posted by: Morticia (reply)
post date: 12.21.07 (6:16 pm)

I think every last one of those malicious laundry-carts is powered by the hungry ghost of Margaret, consumed all her bodily life by bitterness and disappointment, now sentenced to an eternity of watching the living, intensely envious of the most ordinary acts of life--when you blow your nose, swat a fly or fold your laundry, she seethes with yearning. Your mother died yesterday? The offhand, parenthetical mention speaks volumes.......

posted by: soulsought (reply)
post date: 12.21.07 (6:16 pm)

Zeke, Margaret's been gone over a dozen years. She hated your nemesis Carl. Eleanor, Margaret was a fascinating old woman. Everyone thought she was barely breaking even; she lived in cramped quarters upstairs with three big old dogs. When Margaret Wasser passed away, everyone was shocked that she left millions to her favorite charities. I don't know what she left her deadbeat son, who was born in the early fifties. Condolences on Mother. I'm pleased to have met her once 25 years ago.

posted by: Morticia (reply)
post date: 12.21.07 (6:17 pm)

Thanks, soulsought, for the skinny on Margaret. I was mainly riffing on Zeke's tale, knowing nothing about her except for the mini-portrait he presented in the Clorox-in-the-eyes moment.

posted by: ZekeBlog (reply)
post date: 12.21.07 (6:24 pm)

Morticia writes:

{{ Your mother died yesterday? The offhand, parenthetical mention speaks volumes....... }}

Yes, thanks Eleanor of Mendocino! The day my mother started to die (about two months ago, when she was transported to a hospice), my life DRASTICALLY improved! And it remains in this novel state: profound, amazing, life-affirming. Bizarre, if nothing else.

The guy who made me laugh: he does NOT know about my mom's death...or anything else about me. What happened is:

I was sitting in a chair close to the dryers, when he wheeled a cart to an empty one. It was a bottommost dryer, so in his tallness, had to bend down way, way low. And in so doing, positioned his head between the two skinny posts of the laundry cart.

He had a GLORIOUS head of wavy jet-black hair, BTW...NICELY clipped to frame a handsome countenance. I was noticing while preTENDing to read the S.F. Examiner.

Well, his shoulder knocked one of those posts, which comically caused the wobbly cart to bounce back and forth several times, banging his head each time in the process. A skit right out of Saturday Night Live!

It was a funny sight, and I could only hold back my guffaw a few seconds. He looked right at me, smiled and shrugged his shoulders. I remarked:

"Thanks for the comedy relief. I really needed it!"

He grinned, responded with nothing but charm and good humor. Later on while folding my clothes, with HANDSOME sitting by a washing machine just several feet away, I gave him a bit of a hard time.

First, I grabbed my cart, both hands on both posts and said to him:

"BOTH hands, see? Use BOTH hands on the cart, and you won't get into trouble!"

Oh that sweet smile, I just HAD to push the envelope:

"See that cart over there? Attacked me a couple weeks ago. A real knock-em, sock-em brawl. Once I hit the floor, all the OTHER carts joined the fray. Well, somehow I managed to push offa me, and amscray outta here!"

Then I went back to finish my folding; the black-haired rogue his magazine.

Done! Returned the lid to my laundry basket, and my jacket that was slung over a laundry cart bar, to my torso. Started to exit, but stopped and turned to jet-black one more time:

"You know, one of these carts had the NERVE to stalk me for several blocks, called me faggot and demanded all my underwear. I just couldn't take it any more, and said: 'You call me faggot, then demand my boxer shorts? What are you, some kinda CLOSET case?' I must've said the right thing, 'cause he just turned tail and vanished PRONTO in the other direction."

(That SMILE!) I added: "Now, I gotta go HOME to write the tale!"

He grinned from sculpted ear to sculpted ear, said: "You have a wonderful Christmas now!"

"Oh, I will, thanks. Gonna get my FIRST book published, so Santa's REALLY been good to me this year. Merry Christmas!" And I departed.

Story within a story!

Thanks for your comments on this tale (you, too, John). For some strange reason, they do NOT show up on the blog...but DO appear in my control panel. Hopefully, tblog will clear up this glitch soon. 'Cause I'd PREFER to have posted THIS message to the blog, as well.

And I have JUST changed "seven" to "twelve" in regards to Margaret's passing. Thanks for the correction, John. Flime ties!

Margaret was NEVER friendly to me, perhaps because I was friends w/Michael (now "Carl") back then. BTW, he is NOT my nemesis. He is not WORTHY to be my nemesis! He is but ONE of numerous scumbags whose sole PLEASURE in life is to cause me grief, pain and loneliness. If anything, I have nemeSEES. That's PLURAL, not singular.

Carl's days are numbered...less than the fingers and toes on both my hands and feet. Along with all the OTHER scoundrels who've turned Eureka Valley into this nest of vipers it's been for way too many years!

P.S.: I had to DELETE your original comments from my database, then REpost them myself, in order to have them show up on this page. How cumbersome!

posted by: ZekeBlog (reply)
post date: 12.21.07 (6:27 pm)

To make matters worse, some clown-bitch just posted 25 garbage comments, advertising her "wares" (if you get my drift). The homophobic ladies think they're so cute, posting trash in gay venues! Since I have only slow-speed access, and tblog is becoming ever more inefficient, removing all those ugly comments was a waste of 20 minutes. (You CAN'T just tick off the comments you want to delete from a list...each must be removed SEPERATELY. Jeez!)

One more thing:

I'm printing out this tale w/comments, to present to the "new" manager (not owner, he's absentee) of the laundromet...a very NICE woman named Linda. Who ALSO reports to me any relevant observations of my several suspects living at 2306: Mark Fisher, Carl Betza, Randy Webb, and...oh wait, he just died.

Story within a story within a story!

posted by: ZekeBlog (reply)
post date: 12.21.07 (8:03 pm)

ALL our thoughtfully crafted comments have VANISHED again...yet remain on my adminstration panel. Just prior to this, my latest blog entry (laundromat tale) showed up in a batch of FIVE identical entries, stacked one above the other. So I had to REMOVE the bottommost four.

Is this a glitch, sabotage, or mischievous e-poltergeist?

Time will tell. Just wish it wasn't on MY time. It's pulling me away from focusing the next chapter, next blog entry...AND from what valuable LEISURE time I need.

Obviously, that's their plan, and it least for the nonce. I'm gonna have to DROP it for now, and get back to it tonight.

Now there's some STRANGE folks staring at me and POINTING directly towards my window! Well, it's a sick neighborhood full of creepy-crawlies who CLAIM gayness but they are ACTUALLY well-paid and controlled SABOTEURS.

Hey, check this out: Satan's Laundromat:


Time for coffee, but first: present my tale to Linda.

posted by: ZekeBlog (reply)
post date: 12.22.07 (2:36 am)

Significant UPDATE to my ghostly tale "The Case of the Haunted Laundromat":


Because tblog is presently DOWN and INACCESSIBLE, I'm providing this ALTERNATIVE location.

Some adjustment to my wording, all minor, but the most IMPORTANT change is my DEDICATION at the end of my tale, which I have turned into a Xmas tree, with abundant gifts.

I know my e-friends will greatly ENJOY this adjustment, along with all the MARVELOUS links I've added to my essay, peppered throughout.

- Zekester

posted by: Pegala (reply)
post date: 12.22.07 (10:48 am)

I KNEW that laundromat was haunted. But I think it just makes it all the more exciting to wash my clothes there. As a Margaret myself, I know sometimes life makes us old irish women kinda cranky

Lady found a haunted shopping cart right in the middle of Duboce Park once! It was about 5 a.m. on a dark, foggy autumn pre-work walk. Her hackles rose; a dim apparition across the knoll; she charged! She circled it, barking and barking her righteous protection of me and Romeo! I can only presume it took heed, as we have never seen it there again.

Lady will be glad to exorcise the laundromat if you like. She is irish, too, you know.



posted by: ZekeBlog (reply)
post date: 12.22.07 (10:50 am)

Wow! Lady's a brave doggie!

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