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The clothes were coming off, strangely cathartic they found that they formed a heap shaped like a Buddha. Francis had not time for laundry Rorshach tests. To her all she saw was the gloriously smelly apparel of the man she loved. It was a pound of cloth she would roll around in all day until too tired to breathe. So it went every Sunday, and she couldn 't tell anyone. Grandma wouldn't understand and especially not Cecil. He couldn't even understand why she encouraged him to walk the long way home, or why she kept dropping her underwear in the street. Cecil tried giving her pickled wieners for lunch instead but they wouldn't fit her legs, so she put them on her toes instead. Finally, she started singing "My Laundry My Love" while Cecil nimbled at her dainty wieners, Fortunately nimbling was not illegal in this universe, as it was in 91.962. The wiener stains on her clothes were coming out, finally.
