Ryan had expected to be handwashed. But as Cy carried him distastefully between his thumb and index finger into the laundry room, Ryan found himself unceremoniously dropped into the open empty washing and instead of the sink. Ryan lay there waiting for food water to drench him. But he just lay there. Cy didn't want to waste a washload on only one article of clothing. About ten.minutes later, Ryan was squashed by a dirty white tennis shoe. Another show followed. Then a half dozen white t-shirts, white undies. Whites? Don't people usually wash whites in hot water? Instinctively, Ryan knew he shouldn't be washed in hot water, he might shrink. He shouted and then screamed as hot water began to fill the washing machine tub. Of course, without physical contact, Cy didn't hear a thing.
Then the torment went from drowning in boiling water to being whipped around, churned, spun, bleached, rinsed, spun, boiled and drowned, again and rinsed, spun again. He was plastered to the side of the drained washing machine tub with sub old tube socks.
Cy must've been watching a movie or playing a video game, thought Ryan as he stuck there damp in the dark. Eventually, Cy appeared framed by a circle of light when the washer lid opened. Cy hurriedly transferred the wet clothes and shoes into the dryer. He set it to high. Turned it on, and left Ryan to tumble in the hot humid rotating sauna.
Thump, thump, thump.....
The shoes banging in the dryer rhythmically became a noise torture, in addition to the heat and spinning. Then the chime rang telling Cy to take the clothing out of the dryer. It rang again and again. Ryan felt he might burst into flames. He didn't know Cy had fallen asleep streaming his playlist into his airpods.
At last the dryer door opened. Ryan was too exhausted to say anything. He was limp in the hand that extracted him, and The shoved him into a male face. The nose sniffed. Five o'clock shadow stubble brushed against his cloth body.