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 its 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.
An emerald glow emanated from the empty sockets. A throbbing light that said so much to its 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 its ever spawning body.
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.
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 its vise like grip on his mouth and began to coil its 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. "You are nothing but a hollowed out husk... hollowed out husk. Your insides will overflow with millions of eggs... millions of eggs. Newly hatched nymphs will crawl from every orifice to make room for more and more oothecae... oothecae... oothecae." David awoke with a shout. An orange glow coming through the storefront window was the only light he had to see by.
Every surface of the laundromat crawled; the machines, walls, ceiling, tables, and chairs were all seething with cockroaches. Every surface was hidden in swaying shadows, ebbing and flowing like the tide. The cockroaches scattered in every direction as he leapt onto the chair. The old metal foldup chair instantly tipped and spilled him onto the folding table. He rolled across it and crashed to the floor on the other side.
David's panicked yells intermingling with an angry, hissing and chirping was all he could hear as he splashed down into the sea of cockroaches. He felt the crunching and squishing of their little bodies under him as he rolled to his hands and knees. Bile rose up in his throat as he felt their gooey innards soaking through his thin t-shirt. He quickly rose to his feet; banged his head on an old, heavy wall mounted television, and darted for the door. David came to a stop as a wave of insectile limbs, thoraxes, and abdomens rose up over a foot off the floor in front of him. The wave shifted backwards slightly and then rolled towards him, crashing at his feet. With a long legged leap forward, he continued his rush towards the door.
Upon nearing the door, the room went completely silent. The swarming floor skittered aside to open a path to the exit, and David didn't hesitate to rip open the door and flee into the parking lot. He rushed to his car, brushing cockroaches off as he ran, and flung the door open. He leapt inside and began to panic further and scream in frustration as he fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. He finally started up his car and with a metal rending shriek hopped the curb and slammed into the brick facade of the laundromat. A few seconds later the car lurched backward, spun around with a screech of its tires and sped out of the parking lot with sparks flying up behind it. A few minutes later the "Fluffy Bubble" sign came crashing down.
A couple miles down the road the sparks finally subsided. David didn't know why and he didn't care. He just wanted to put as many miles between him and that awful place as he could. After about a hundred miles he saw a sign for a hotel and decided to get a room for the night. Once he was certain the room was completely bug free, he stripped off his disgusting clothes and crawled into bed. He passed out within seconds. About an hour later he slipped out of bed and crawled to the corner of the room. He peeled back the carpet with a bit of effort and then stuck his fingers down his throat until he gagged and vomited into the corner. He pushed the carpet back into place and then crawled back into bed. He never opened his eyes.
Several hours later he woke up and felt better than he'd felt in quite a while. He didn't understand what the hell had happened, but he decided he wasn't going to let it ruin his trip. He'd buy some new clothes, get his car checked out, and drive through every state in the country. That was the plan now and nothing was going to stop him. He thought about how silly he had been earlier when he'd considered going home. He slipped out of bed, stretched, and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. "I'm coming America and nothing is going to stop me now." As he pulled the door shut, hundreds of newly hatched nymphs began to crawl out from the corner of the room. By the time David came out of the bathroom, not a single one was in sight.