Washing

I was awakened by a terrible noise, recurring rhythmically, preventing me from sleeping a wink. I was nervous, as last night had been a rather heavy one, though I initially thought it was just a hallucination, perhaps the gallons of alcohol I'd consumed the night before still making their presence felt. But the sound persisted. It even seemed to my tired senses to grow louder and pulsate rhythmically in my head. The sound was regular and utterly torturous. I thought to myself that roadworks had probably been going on since early morning, somewhere near my window. But no. It wasn't like a jackhammer. It sounded more like a wooden peg striking a metal surface. And worse still, the source of the sound wasn't in my head, but somewhere in the house, somewhere on the floor below.

Outraged, I went downstairs. There, my roommate, Patryk, was calmly putting another section of the couch into the dryer. I was speechless for a long moment. I didn't know if I was dreaming or hallucinating; I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Patryk, meanwhile, after stuffing the remaining (now smallest) pieces of the sofa into the dryer, grabbed the armchair, and in the blink of an eye, disassembled it so I could easily fit them into the washing machine. That's when I lost it. A bad night's sleep, a hangover, and amazement made me feel a sudden, irresistible urge to talk Patryk out of his ideas, no matter what. Over dead bodies, I thought. I won't let anyone wake me up in my own home because they want to wash the furniture. This was clearly too much.

Patryk! I called out. "Patryk, what are you doing? Don't you know you don't wash furniture? Don't you know you don't dry furniture in a dryer?" My words, however, elicited no reaction from Patryk. So I walked over to him, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him gently, repeating my questions. What are you doing, Patryk? What are you doing best? And I was even more terrified, because Patryk's eyes seemed vacant. His state resembled some kind of hypnotic trance. I quickly moved away, because you never know what a possessed person might think when disturbed. Patryk, however, was not impressed in the slightest. He simply calmly went about the coffee table, the radiators, the VHS movies, and the DVDs. Then he calmly disconnected the cables and threw the VCR and DVD players, along with the remotes, into the washing machine. His blank gaze then turned to the television. I couldn't take it anymore and ran out of the house screaming.

I called my friends and met them at a nearby pub. I told them what was happening at home, and they laughed at my story. They told me I should stop smoking whatever I was smoking. I was outraged. Even my closest friends didn't believe me. My heart filled with helplessness. I asked for another beer and within a short while, I forgot about the situation at home.

After a few hours, I decided it was time to go home. I accepted my friends' views and even decided, even though I had already had a few drinks, that I must have imagined it all, or more likely, simply dreamed it. So I went home.

Without hesitation, I inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. What I saw, however, shattered my worldview. Patryk appeared before my eyes. I wanted to tell him about my morning visions, but I immediately decided against it. My eyes opened as wide as they could. I panicked. But I couldn't move. My muscles gave out. My life flashed before my eyes. I started praying.

Patryk calmly loaded the television into the dryer, saying,

"It was very dirty. It could use another round. And why are you standing there? Get ready. You'll be washed right after him."