"Minnie, the coach dropped off some stuff from the high school lost and found," said Mildred the head of the Thrift Shop, "Would you be a dear and sort it out, and inventory it."
"Sure, Millie," Minnie said rolling her eyes. Mildred insisted on diminufying everyone's name. Minuet was Minnie, Joe was Joey, Jim was Jimmy, Richard was Dickie - as revenge, Minuet called Mildred Millie, but Millie liked it.
She walked over, grabbed an inventory sheet, and logged in a size Small Men's T-shirt, and tossed it in the "To Be Washed Bin". Three sets of earbuds were set aside to test to make sure they worked. A couple mismatched socks ended up in rag bin. There was a generic mp3 player, she set it with the headphones to test. A half dozen pens ended up in the pen box. So did a couple pencils. There were a few more garments that ended up in the wash bin, but finally she picked up the jockstrap.
"Ew! They cannot be serious!" she exclaimed holding her nose.
"What's the matter?" asked Dickie, he had just finished unloading the donation truck, and was walking by her to the kitchenette to get a cool drink.
"Oh, the High School coach donated a smelly old jockstrap. By law we cannot even give it away let alone sell it, it's underwear!"
"Well, technically, it's athletic equipment," Dickie said with a snicker, he grabbed it, and tossing it in the wash bin.
Ryan tried to communicate, but the girl was so freaked out, he was afraid what she would do if she knew he was alive. For the brief moments he was in Dickie's hand, he tried to make contact. He was thrown into another bin of dirty gear. Dickie stared at the bin. He spoke again.
"Minnie, after you wash that stuff, set the jockstrap aside for me," Dickie said thoughtfully.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, lifting all that furniture, an athletic supporter might save me from a groin injury," he said.
"Oh?" she remarked thoughtfully, "Yeah, we can't have you getting injured. Millie would expect me to unload the truck then!"