The place was empty, except for the two men in ski masks and Mel. They demanded money since they knew that a coin-operated laundromat like MEL’S WASH HOUSE had cash. They were edgy. They wanted to be in and out quickly. In a way, they were like so many of Mel’s demanding customers.
“I could wash those masks for you.”
“What?”
Was Mel playing for time?
“They’re dirty… Your masks are awfully dirty.”
Mel had a point.
The taller man demanded money immediately.
“How about if I just wash and dry your masks, and we leave it at that?”
The smaller mask looked at the larger.
“He’s right. Your mask is dirty, Lou.”
“I told you not to mention our names, Ed.”
The one named Lou stiffened, his larger mask twisted by anger.
“Oh yeah, right… But I didn’t say your last name was Fromson.”
“No, genius… And you didn’t say I live on Cramwell Avenue either.”
Was this a robbery gone wrong?
“Look, I could wash and dry those things in about 20 minutes. And I promise not to charge either of you.”
No charge? At the WASH HOUSE?
Was Mel serious?
Was he simply stalling for time?
Or, was it that, tied day-after-day to the WASH HOUSE, he’d lost all sense. Shouldn’t he, of all people, have known that ski masks should never be put in a washer, then dryer?
July 31, 2025 [Issue 46]
Grey Sparrow Journal 