An Open Letter To The Laundromat Down The Street
Dear Proprietors of Long Giang Dong Laundry:
Greetings, gentle launderers. My name is Jack. Perhaps you don’t remember me as you must see literally hundreds of faces each day, although I bet that’s not as many as you used to see when you lived in China. (Get it? Because it was so crowded.) Seriously, I am writing you this letter to better illustrate the recent problems I have had with your particular laundry service. The last time I dropped off my clothes, I specifically asked you to wash them in cold water and dry them in the permanent press cycle to prevent color running or shrinking. In fact, I repeated these instructions so many times and with such over pronounced clarity, that I was afraid that you would think I was being condescending. Well, apparently I was not clear enough. I could have given you those same directions, spoken in Portugese with a mouth full of marbles for all the good they did.
When I got my laundry home I began putting it immediately into my dresser, as is my custom. I noticed that it didn’t smell all that fresh, but I still assumed it was clean. Once I had my clothes put away, I picked out an outfit for the day. I chose my favorite blue shirt and a pair of jeans. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that my favorite blue shirt was now a mid-riff revealing little number that would be perfect were I one of the slutty teenage tourists that traipse up and down my street during the summer.
Moreover, I discovered that my favorite jeans now ended just above my ankles. If that weren’t enough, there was also a hole in the crotch of the jeans. I can attribute the shrinking to poor drying, but how the hell did you people manage to put a hole in the crotch of my favorite jeans? I’m simply dumbfounded. Did you rub them against a sharp rock? Use them in a game of tug of war? Traverse a canyon with them via a zip line? Please help me figure this one out.
Also, not that it matters since you have a sign that immunizes you against any lost or damaged clothing, but I seem to be missing a pair of pillowcases. Seriously, you fuckers are stealing pillowcases? That’s ridiculous. I could understand a fancy shirt or nice dress, but why on God’s green earth would you steal my pillowcases? It boggles the mind. Anyway, I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I will be reporting you to the better business bureau or something. You fuckers will pay.
No longer your customer,
Jack Frankenberry
(That way they can’t trace me and burn my house down.)
