by Anonymous

Another day, another sheet, another essay. Not a scoot or whoot in sight – I ponder as I gaze out of my window. A habit I developed since discovering that there is a slight, minute, tiny but VERY CRUCIAL FACT that it is slightly, possibly possible that your atoms can align in such a way that you just, you know … PLOOP! – faze through the window and fall to your demise. Fashionably … Anyways, did not mean to go on a tangent there.

My bad.

Oopsie!

Slight fuck up on my part.

As I observed the lack of scoot and whoot. I noticed a scoot!

Back and forth between kitchen and laundry. Yes. You heard that right. Kitchen and laundry.

I know!

How scandalous.

We are all of the same mind. In unity if you will ;). So, I know that you know that I know that you know that the scoot scooter knows that I know that the only rational, sane, and rational (have I used that word already?) thing to do is to investigate. After all, that essay (or sheet – yes that’s right you fuckers will never know if I do STEM or humanities) can definitely write itself. I have alllllll the time in the world. Do I even do a degree?

So, I pull away from the window, scoot scoot over to my cellmate and ‘BANG BADAWAP BOOM BANG’ knock on her door.

‘Do you want to uncover the secrets of the kitchen and laundry room conundrum?’ I ask her.

She says no (Understandable).

I use my leadership and gaslighting skills that I gained in DofE (I hold her family hostage – Duolingo style) and manage to convince her to join me, willingly of course.

Oh, just marvel at how amazing I am!

We use our mad ninja skills to sneak after him. We watch as his broad shoulders, THICC arms and skinny ass legs scoot scoot to the laundry room. Carrying a bag of what appears to be at least two cutleries (I am British. Take my word for it. This is the correct standard English way of saying it).

Interesting.

We watch as he enters the laundry room, peering through the window into Circuitville – very vile.

AND SUDDENLY the room lights up. Whirls of gold dance around inside the washing machines, they make sounds like WHOMP WHOMP WHOOSH, WHOMP WHOMP WOOSHHHHH. Sparks fly – it’s like electricity.

He throws cutlery into the washing machine and a few seconds later, MAAAAASSIVE versions of the cutlery climb out. Rad.

Big fork says, ‘All bow down to laundry supreme.’

The others say, ‘Cool.’

Cellmate and I say, ‘Wut?’

This is all so crazy.

Mad.

Insane in the membrane indeed.

AND SUDDENLY (AGAIN WITH THE SUDDENLY, SO MANY JUMPSCARES, OMG) the door swings open. Wash AshFront glares down at us.

‘You dare impede on the sacred gathering of fork and man?’ He thunders.

‘Yah?’

I guess he didn’t like that response cos then he turned me and my cellmate into sporks, quite sad actually – we didn’t even get a character development or anything. Tragic …

Oh, right, back to the story.

We UNITE with the cult-leries and embark on a journey to convert the members of the Oxford cult to our supreme, shinier, stainless-steel cult.

A worthy cause indeed.

And so, it begins. The Adventures of Doctor Circuit: Tales of the Great Laundry Supreme.

Be sure to scoot scoot to the next issue where we will battle humidity in the laundry room.

Things get rather … steamy.