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  • (Warning: This one's a bit graphic and disgusting.)

    The Laundromat was a complete bumapalooza tonight. It was a good mix of meth-heads, crack-heads and drunks. They mostly stayed on one side of the joint arguing about bum things like who bought the last 40 or who actually owned the blue lighter. One guy’s voice was so off the hook raspy that he almost sounded like a Cylon from the first Battlestar series. One person upped some bum coin to open the pay as you go toilet, and they all took turns getting the most of that 50 cents. I can’t even imagine the complete biohazard that shitter must have been when that crew was done with it. And this reminds me of a little bedtime story about crack-heads and Laundromat toilets.

    Some years ago, I was living in a place that didn’t have laundry facilities and had to regularly do the laundry mat thing. I had become quite the aficionado of the city’s local cleaners. My two favorite joints were around the UCR area. Most of the students either lived in houses that had washing machines or apartment complexes with many different machines, so these joints were usually freed up with a low scumbag ratio. One fine day, I was beginning to do my wash, was emptying my pockets before throwing the clothes in the machine and came upon a big wad of Kleenex in one of my sleeper sweats. I realized that it was tissue that I had shot my wad into while jerking off. Some guys use socks, some guys are clean freaks or were raised in a house full of siblings with no privacy and are shower jerkers, some guys just shoot it all over themselves and call themselves dirty little hookers, and some guys are prepared with a big wad of tissue and then don’t want to get out of bed to get rid of the disgusting thing because they're too sleepy. I know TMI times infinity.

    Causally, I just put it on top of the machine with the rest of the crap I was pulling out of my pockets that I was going to throw away, and I walked over to the vending machine to get some fabric softener that I spaced on buying before getting there. As I was at the vending machine, in walks a crack head who looked like she could have been the dictionary definition of the word. She went straight to the bathroom in the rear, which rarely had toilet paper. You can see where this is going. She came out looking desperately around. She checked the paper towel dispenser which was empty and then saw my giant wad of tissue on top of the washer. Before I could say anything (like I would yell out "that's got my dried goo in it!"), she grabbed it and walked quickly into the bathroom. She finished her business at a lightning speed and exited almost as quickly as she came in, but with a little bit less urgency in her step.

    After she left, two things had occurred to me: that was the closest my cum had come to going in a vagina in some time at that point in my life, and that I was totally fucked if she got killed in the next day or so, because my DNA would probably end up in the investigation. I actually made sure to check the local papers for any murders for the next week or so. I didn’t see any crack heads murdered, so I think I’m in the clear.
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