Friday, February 10, 2006

Richard went outside into the West Village to explore his new neighborhood.

He now lived on a quiet, tree-lined street next door to celebrities, but Richard knew he would one day be more famous than all of them.

He looked around and wished he was still living back home with his lover, Robert. The couple had a washing machine and dryer. But the divorce was final. Richard couldn’t go back there to wash clothes if he had to-- he was issued a restraining order.

Nearby laundromats had only and handful of washers and dryers and most people would pay a Chinese guy with rubber gloves to wash their shitty drawers.

Richard couldn’t afford that. He loved to wash clothes just like his grandmother and was rather disappointed with all the conveniences of modern Manhattan. Richard wore at least three different pairs of socks and underwear a day. He just couldn’t get enough cleanliness in his life and the bad habit could have cost him a pretty penny.

“I’ll be damned if I let some Asian wash my clothing in anything other than Tide,” said Richard to an old woman sitting outside the laundromat on a bench.

“Find a good woman like me young man, and she’ll wash them for you,” said the elderly Jewish woman while checking out Richard’s tight round ass.

Richard called her a gay basher and stomped off to Chelsea in search of a larger laundromat.

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