Even I Can't Make this Up


Dante Chilling

What is it about the guest laundry room? Do they honestly think that’s private. I can’t see how considering there is a big window and a camera in there.


Oh, well, if it wasn’t such a hot spot, I wouldn’t have anything to blog about today.


I was so glad that Dante was here to witness it. I was supposed to be his relief. But he never left.


Warning this is not as pornographic as it leads on to be.


First let me tell you about Dante. He acts fifty, looks sixteen and his age falls somewhere in between. He’s quick to tell everyone he identifies as a straight man because it’s a point people tend to get confused about because he has a passion for clothing design.


I really never got why he had to tell people that. Anyhow ... He’s a really nice guy, he works a lot of hours here because, as he tells us, he has to support his five kids. When I asked about them the first time, he pulled out his wallet. I found it strange because who pulls out their wallet anymore to show pictures of their kids? Usually it’s the phone. He showed me his kids, and I realized why he had the pictures in his wallet. They were pictures, but they were cut from those ‘Save the Children’ postcards you get when you sponsor a child.


I was like, “Dude, that’s really expensive, you know. Five of them.”


He said it was cheaper than having his own biological children and has a nice relationship with them.

Anyhow ... my point of my blog.


Dante and I were in the employee laundry room folding and chatting when Mack walks in. He’s a resident whom, we still can’t figure out if he’s really drinking or it’s an act.


Mack comes in and said in his Jack Nicholson on crack raspy voice, “Hey, I want to do laundry but there’s some funny business going on in there.”


I glance to the monitor and saw only Marsha sitting in the chair. Her back to the camera. “Oh, it’s fine. It’s just Marsha”


Stop.


OK, who is Marsha. She is a wonderfully sweet woman, middle age, lives here, has some problems with her legs and uses a walker, but I think she uses it less for her legs than she does for her exceptionally large breasts which she rests on a towel on the handle.


“No, it’s not just Marsha, Maria is there,” Mack said.


“You mean Maria the under sexed, want to be over sexed, four foot six Puerto Rican woman?”


Alright, I really didn’t say that, but it was my clever way to tell you about her.


Just as I was about to question Mack, I hear a peep of a scream from Dante. You know the type, high pitched, short. He’s staring at the monitor.


I looked at the Monitor and sure enough, I can see a smidgen of Maria on the floor before Marsha.


“No, no, no.” Dante tossed down a towel. “Not in my hotel.” He storms out, a second later comes back in and says. “I can’t. I don’t want to see it.”


Before we rush to judgement, I thought let’s rewind the security footage. We did. Sure enough, Marsha walks in, sets her walker aside (Thankfully we didn’t see what happened to the breasts) then she sits down. A few seconds later, in comes Maria. She stands before Marsha, then suddenly drops to her knees. Keep in mind, from the camera’s angle all we can see is the back of Marsha from the shoulders up.


“What if we just let them go,” Dante suggested.

“Nah,” Mack said. (Man I wish you could hear his real voice) “It might be a while. From my experience women can take a while.”

Dante looked at him. “Clearly, you aren’t doing things right.”

“You know what,” I said. “I’ll handle this. I’ll tell them to take it elsewhere.”


When I walked out of the room, I heard Mack tell Dante to make sure my reaction was recorded.

I went to the laundry room, covered my eyes with one hand and pushed open the door. I was trying to ‘not see anything’. “Um, ladies,” I said sheepishly. “I respect your privacy, but is there anyway you can do that elsewhere?”


Silence


That was when Maria barked. “What the hell is da matter with you? What are you doing?”


I lowered my hand with a shocked, “Huh?” When I saw Maria, holding a jar of cream, and Marsha’s extended legs were covered with the cream.


“She has cellulitis,” Maria said. “She can’t reach her legs.”


Awwww! Well, of course, not, I thought, her boobs would inhibit that.


“I’m sorry,” I said. “Dante made me come in here. He said there was some hot lesbian action happening and I had to stop it. His words not mine”


“Dante’s an asshole,” Maria said. “Tell him to get his butt in here so I can whoop it.”


“Okay.” I merrily walked off and to the employee laundry area. “All’s good,” I told them. “She was only putting cream on Marsha’s cellulitis. And by the way, Dante, Maria needs to talk to you.”


Without question, Dante went to the guest laundry. I wish I could get the video of Maria, hands going wild trying to hit Dante, then chasing him. Perhaps my manager will give it up.


If you noticed the picture, that’s Dante, post trauma, taking a break. In the same chair that Marsha enjoyed. Ge could have gotten a room, but said the dryer noise soothes him.


Go figure.

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