Working nights shifts in a laundromat can be... interesting. The owner, Wanda, hired me because I had "a face that won't cause trouble and hands that know how to beat an unruly machine" which is as close to a compliment as she'll ever give you. She's one of the many oddities you get around this part of town and the only one I'd want to meet in a dark alley.
I get the regulars in just fine, rarely any hassle from them and they mostly keep to themselves once they've got their washing set to spin. Mostly we just get students who've spent too much time studying and left their washing for a couple of months. Coincidentally the current record holder for "most machines used at once" is in med school.
Then there's the irregulars, as I call them, the people who flit in and out of society like moths to a lightbulb. They're never quite with it and never quite human, at least as far as I can tell. They don't mean any harm, generally they're just here to wash their belongings same as anyone else but that doesn't stop them from causing little nuisances when they think they can get away with it.
Just last night I had somebody try to pay me in teeth, like actual human teeth with the gums still on the ends. It's certainly a challenge sometimes, to look somebody in roughly the area where eyes normally go and say "I'm sorry but we only accept human money in the accepted currency of this country" and remembering to use those specific words to try and avoid being given more teeth or worse.
But that's just what Mr Jayless does. He says he forgets how money works, offers teeth and then pays when you formally refuse around three to five times. Whatever he is, he's a right annoyance when he wants to be and he bloody well knows we don't accept teeth! He's been around for hundreds of years and I reckon there was never a time when anyone traded in teeth!
But he's honestly a lesser nuisance when compared to the great big fluttery voidish shapes that go by the collective name of Caroline. They bring a basket of bloodstained hankies in, set them on a delicate cycle and then linger around outside hunting smaller critters. Lord only knows how many little carcasses I've had to sweep into binbags the moment they're out of sight. The pavement all around the laundromat is permanently pock-marked with little brown mice-shaped stains thanks to Caroline but they pay in gold so they're welcome any day.
There's only one being that Wanda's explicitly told me to never let in and that's a slug-like fellow by the name of Morgan. I like to think of him as a part time businessman, full time slug-mermaid. He literally has the lower half of a slug the personality to match. Likes to push his luck by holding the front door open and tell me how he ate the last counter girl who worked here (Wanda has yet to confirm this though).
For a laugh I put salt on the threshold my last shift and apparently it has him pretty pissed off. Wanda left me a rather long text saying as much (with some colourful language thrown in for good measure), finishing with the touching remark of "Sweep it up or buy a bodybag and climb in it."
I get the regulars in just fine, rarely any hassle from them and they mostly keep to themselves once they've got their washing set to spin. Mostly we just get students who've spent too much time studying and left their washing for a couple of months. Coincidentally the current record holder for "most machines used at once" is in med school.
Then there's the irregulars, as I call them, the people who flit in and out of society like moths to a lightbulb. They're never quite with it and never quite human, at least as far as I can tell. They don't mean any harm, generally they're just here to wash their belongings same as anyone else but that doesn't stop them from causing little nuisances when they think they can get away with it.
Just last night I had somebody try to pay me in teeth, like actual human teeth with the gums still on the ends. It's certainly a challenge sometimes, to look somebody in roughly the area where eyes normally go and say "I'm sorry but we only accept human money in the accepted currency of this country" and remembering to use those specific words to try and avoid being given more teeth or worse.
But that's just what Mr Jayless does. He says he forgets how money works, offers teeth and then pays when you formally refuse around three to five times. Whatever he is, he's a right annoyance when he wants to be and he bloody well knows we don't accept teeth! He's been around for hundreds of years and I reckon there was never a time when anyone traded in teeth!
But he's honestly a lesser nuisance when compared to the great big fluttery voidish shapes that go by the collective name of Caroline. They bring a basket of bloodstained hankies in, set them on a delicate cycle and then linger around outside hunting smaller critters. Lord only knows how many little carcasses I've had to sweep into binbags the moment they're out of sight. The pavement all around the laundromat is permanently pock-marked with little brown mice-shaped stains thanks to Caroline but they pay in gold so they're welcome any day.
There's only one being that Wanda's explicitly told me to never let in and that's a slug-like fellow by the name of Morgan. I like to think of him as a part time businessman, full time slug-mermaid. He literally has the lower half of a slug the personality to match. Likes to push his luck by holding the front door open and tell me how he ate the last counter girl who worked here (Wanda has yet to confirm this though).
For a laugh I put salt on the threshold my last shift and apparently it has him pretty pissed off. Wanda left me a rather long text saying as much (with some colourful language thrown in for good measure), finishing with the touching remark of "Sweep it up or buy a bodybag and climb in it."
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