Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-34823985-20180330113553

Authors Note: Ok, so I wrote two stories. The first one (Socks) seemed too tame to me and kind of boring; although I did like the old man, Hops. The second story (Ootheca) seems a little too over the top. Well, tell me what you think of Ootheca, and read Socks if you feel like it. Your feedback will help me clean up and fix any issues. Thanks. ---

Unmatched socks were pinned to a bulletin board on the left wall above the washers and dryers. Each one had a note attached to it that said things like: "For a good time, use me," "Have you seen my foot?" and "I'm so fucking lonely." David wasn't sure what to think about the bright orange poster board sign that read, "STOP PISSING IN THE MACHINES OR I WILL KILL YOU! ~ Management." The overall decrepit condition of the place made him cringe, but it was the first laundromat he'd seen in over a week. He'd been wearing the same clothes for two days and his car was starting to stink. He set his duffel bag of dirty laundry on the floor and headed back to his car for detergent and dryer sheets.

The inside of his beat up '94 Honda Civic was cluttered with all the things he figured he'd need for his rubber tramping excursion. He had taken out the back seat to make room for a sleeping bag and other necessities. It had been a tight fit living in his car for the past three weeks, but he hadn't lost his initial enthusiasm for the adventure yet. It was his intention to just drive until he wanted to go home. The romanticist in him had hoped he'd find a place nestled somewhere out there he would fall in love with or maybe a girl that shared his love for open spaces.

He pulled the curtains over the windows, grabbed what he needed, and shut the fifth door on his hatchback. Turning away from his car, he looked up at the sign that read "The Fluffy Bubble - 24 Hour Laundry." The rusty top mounts were slightly pulled away from the brick facade causing the sign to slant downward. The thought that the sign just wanted a better view of customers coming and going made David chuckle a little. The name of the place didn't even register in his head. He was used to all the names that adorned the fronts of laundromats. Some were clever like, "The Washing Well," "Agitate and Tumble," or "The Laundry Basket." Others were silly like, "Suds N Duds," "The Busy Bubble," and "Tubby's Bubbys." Then there were the ones that were borderline pornographic: "Sit and Spin," "Come Clean," (which had a flashing neon sign, so the words were interchangeable) and (his favorite) "Drop A Load Laundry." David preferred establishments with more practical names like, "24 Hour Laundromat," and "Anytime Laundry."

The place was busier than he knew. Antennae twitched, heads turned, compound eyes focused on the interloper as he entered the laundromat. The unspoken agreement that this was it's time to 'come out and play' had been broken. A thick fog of seething anger was forming under the peeling linoleum, in the walls, under every machine and David was oblivious. How could he have known the business hadn't been open 24/7 for many years (it had been decided changing the sign was just too expensive) or that the old man that owned the place had been hospitalized earlier in the day? No one knew what the establishment's owner knew about the place, so nobody bothered to lock up.

The first washer he opened nearly knocked him on his ass. He now understood why management was promising death to the culprit. He moved over a few machines and inspected one thoroughly before loading it. He fed four quarters into it and repeated the process with the next washer. The rhythmic sloosh, sloosh, sloosh of the washers evoked a yawn from David. While he was inspecting dryers a legion of connected minds conferred silently on how to deal with the trespasser. He pulled a chair up to one of the washers and propped his feet up on it; leaned back and closed his eyes. He'd been driving for hours and figured a nap was a good way to kill some time. Priding himself on being a light sleeper, he was confident the machine would buzz him awake. Little did he know the machines would soon be off as well as the lights.

An emerald glow emanated from the empty sockets. A throbbing light that said so much to it's servants. Now just a skull, but once an innocent man who'd seen too much. His remains were sunk deep in the foundations of several local establishments under construction at the time of his disappearance. Time went by and people stopped wondering what happened to the young man. Many years ago a crack formed in the foundation. A Miniscule little fracture in the concrete slowly crept towards the gruesome secret resting place of Gary Jansen's head. The fissure grew in width and depth over the years. At first, the residents of the dark recesses of the building ignored the pulsing light the opening revealed. Most of the vermin eventually moved on to other places, but one species remained. One species swayed left, right, left, right, left, right to the rhythm of the beating heart of their world. It tapped into the depths of their over three hundred million year old instinct, and showed them how to think and act as one. It became their heart and mind, and they became it's ever spawning body.

David suddenly found himself waist deep in a body of water. Something was in the water with him just below the surface swimming ever tightening circles around him. He tried to propel himself backwards, but his movements were slowed by the quickly rising gray quicksand like substance that now replaced the water. Ahead of him was a concrete mixer truck funneling gallons upon gallons of cement into the excavated pit. The cement engulfed his shoulders as the thing just under the surface brushed against his back. It swiftly swam around his body to face him. A skeletal hand burst from the surface and clamped on to his mouth just as he opened it to scream. It loosened it's vise like grip on his mouth and began to coil it's impossible length around his head like a snake, muffling his useless screams.

David could barely stand the pressure he felt over his entire body as the cement quickly hardened around him. It felt like his head would pop at any moment as the arm began to squeeze his skull. He could hear the quickening beat of his heart; badum, badum, badit, bubmit, submit, submit, submit, submit, submit, submit. "Yes!" he screamed out. The skeletal arm burst into thousands of cockroaches. They scuttled over every surface, blacked out his sight and crawled into his mouth one after another, after another, after another. They raced down his throat and quickly filled every cavity.

Insectile whispers skittered through his mind, telling him of his eternal service to his master over and over again until he began to recite his new role aloud. "I am a hollowed out nest. My insides will overflow with millions of my master's eggs. Newly hatched nymphs will crawl from every orifice to make room for more and more ootheca. I understand this and I accept." David awoke and stood up. Every surface of the laundromat crawled; the machines, walls, ceiling, tables, chairs, and David as well were all seething with cockroaches. They shifted to make way for his steps as he walked to the front door. Cockroaches scurried up his arm right before he shot his fist through the glass on the door. He broke free a shard of glass and opened up his wrist. The insane realization of what he was doing dawned on him for a second, but then the rapid beating of his heart reminded him of what he was now. He opened the door and using his blood pouring out of his arm, he scrawled on the storefront window, "Man tread no mor."

He then pressed his back to the wall and slid down to the sidewalk. He sat there cackling as his life blood quickly poured out of his wound. Cockroaches spilled out of the building and blanketed everything in sight.

-the end--

Socks

Unmatched socks were pinned to a bulletin board on the left wall above the washers and dryers. Each one had a note attached to it that said things like: "For a good time, use me," "Have you seen my partner?" and "I'm so fucking lonely." David wasn't sure what to think about the bright orange poster board sign that read, "STOP PISSING IN THE MACHINES OR I WILL KILL YOU! ~ Management." The overall decrepit condition of the place made him cringe, but it was the first laundromat he'd seen in over a week. He'd been wearing the same clothes for two days and his car was starting to stink. He set his duffel bag of dirty laundry on the floor and headed back to his car for detergent and dryer sheets.

The inside of his beat up '94 Honda Civic was cluttered with all the things he figured he'd need for his rubber tramping excursion. He had taken out the back seat to make room for a sleeping bag and other necessities. It had been a tight fit living in his car for the past three weeks, but he hadn't lost his initial enthusiasm for the adventure yet. It was his intention to just drive until he wanted to go home. The romanticist in him had hoped he'd find a place nestled somewhere out there he would fall in love with or maybe a girl that shared his love for open spaces.

He pulled the curtains over the windows, grabbed what he needed, and shut the fifth door on his hatchback. Turning away from his car, he looked up at the sign that read "The Fluffy Bubble - 24 Hour Laundry." The rusty top mounts were slightly pulled away from the brick facade causing the sign to slant downward. The thought that the sign just wanted a better view of customers coming and going made David chuckle a little. The name of the place didn't even register in his head. He was used to all the names that adorned the fronts of laundromats. Some were clever like, "The Washing Well," "Agitate and Tumble," or "The Laundry Basket." Others were silly like, "Suds N Duds," "The Busy Bubble," and "Tubby's Bubbys." Then there were the ones that were borderline pornographic: "Sit and Spin," "Come Clean," (which had a flashing neon sign, so the words were interchangeable) and (his favorite) "Drop A Load Laundry." David preferred establishments with more practical names like, "24 Hour Laundromat," and "Anytime Laundry."

The first washer he opened nearly knocked him on his ass. He understood why management was promising death to the culprit. He moved over a few machines and inspected it thoroughly before loading it. He fed four quarters into it and repeated the process with the next washer. The rhythmic sloosh, sloosh, sloosh of the washers evoked a yawn from David. He checked out a couple of dryers to make sure they didn't contain any surprises. The second dryer had one worn, wool sock in it. He grabbed it and tossed it on top of the dryer.

"What the hell ya think ya doing, boy?" David jumped to attention and spun towards the front of the laundromat. A grizzled old man stood in front of the entrance with an angry look on his stubbled face.

David stammered, "I was, I was just checking..."

The old man started laughing heartily. "I'm messing with ya, boy. Whew, the look on your face was priceless. I was... I was." He started laughing again as he hopped towards David. The door closed with a light jingling of it's bell. "Ya actually did me a favor fishing my sock out. I have to scoot a chair over to get anything out of these damn front loaders." He neared David and stuck his right hand out amicably. "People round here call me Hops." Deciding neither fight nor flight was necessary he awkwardly shook Hops' hand. "Hey, ya can look straight at me, boy. My arm and leg ain't gonna pop off if ya stare a little. Go on now, take a gander at just what did and didn't come back from that shithole Vietnam."

The old man hopped around in a tight circle showing off his missing left limbs. "Alright, now that we got that out of the way. Drag that chair over here." David grabbed the nearest chair and Hops immediately corrected him. "Not that chair, that chair." Hop's pointed at the table next to the one David was in front of. "Whoops, was I pointing with the wrong hand again?" He slapped the top of the dryer and started laughing again. David just stared, he didn't really know what to make of the old man. "Lighten up, boy. I'm only messing with ya. Any chair will do."

David grabbed the chair and dragged it over. Hops flopped into it and peeled off his shoe. He slipped on the sock. "There we go, much better. So, I noticed your South Carolina plates. You a long ways from home. What brings ya ta this stink hole of a town?" David regaled the old man with his stories of rubber tramping around the country until the buzzer went off on the first dryer. He excused himself and went to fetch his clothes. With his hands full of damp clothes he headed to the dryer. Hops was gone. David tossed his clothes in and fed four quarters into the machine. He looked around for Hops as the hum of the dryer kicked into full gear. Just then the second buzzer went off. David spun around and slammed his knee into the second dryer by accident. The door popped open and hanging on the inner latch that's supposed to keep the door closed was Hops' lone wool sock. He scratched his head and wondered who the hell or what the hell had he been talking to for the last forty minutes.

The dryer's buzzer went off and David lurched awake. He felt refreshed from his nap, stretched, pulled out his clothes, and set to folding them. The second buzzer went off as he finished folding the first load. He folded the rest and seeing as nobody was around, quickly changed into fresh clothes. He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and glanced at his handiwork as he headed for the door. Hops' wool sock was pinned to the bulletin board. Attached to it was a note that read, "Left half of me in Vietnam."

He stepped outside as a thin, golden orange line crept over the horizon. David felt lighter, happier; he'd just experienced something otherworldly and he was better for the experience. A whole new plane of possibilities had opened up to him. He smiled, and wondered what other oddities were out there to discover. Just then a great, stone wrenching sound spun David back towards the laundromat. He dropped his duffel bag and shot a glance upward. All he had time for was a hasty, "Oh, Shit!" as the Fluffy Bubble sign crashed down upon him. 