Here I am with my head in a washer, you may think poorly about my state of mind looking at me now but you will not after I guide you through the path I took to get here. It all started sometime ago when I left my dysfunctional prison that I call home to wash our families laundry down at the Laundromat. As soon as I closed the door to my house I glided down the rustic tile stairs of the apartment complex, in that moment I felt free of this world, gliding to a better tomorrow but when I hit the bottom of the stairs that feeling evaporated instantly. As a pushed I heaved open the heavy iron door that keeps me prisoner complex a tall ominous man dressed like the blackest cat I have ever seen pranced across the street towards me like an angel. I soon realized that I live in the Bronx and when a stranger in pitch black runs at you he is most likely trying to either mug you or mug you then murder you, so I ran. I ran faster than I have before I leaped past the trash cans in the night and I flew over the bumps in the concrete towards the misplaced Laundromat. Going to the Laundromat that is next to a weapons depot has its pros and cons. On a normal day if you were to walk down the street towards a weapon depot as a nine year old, you’d usually get questioned but today was no normal day. I hoped that the man not continue hunt me down when he saw that I was running towards a weapons depot but he pressed on. When I was 30 feet from the Laundromat I turned around to check whether I was still being followed by the suspicious man something hit me hard and that is the last thing I remember. Now I have woken up in a washer in the Laundromat with not even the faintest idea about what happened last night. So there it was not me who was responsible for my head being engulfed in a washer so think again about this picture and don’t forget to……. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH (Slicing noise) (thunk)