The clothes shoot has finally gone and done it …eaten more than it could chew. It has always had more of an appetite than it had room allowed but now it has gone and gorged itself. The narrow throat is a joke but not funny now. “Where are my uniform shirts?” ” I’m out of underwear!” ” I can’t go to my college interview without my gray sweater!” (pant, pant)
It is full now. No more room. Indigestion worth a bottle of Tums, a starvation diet of socks, or bottled water. Cries of “What did it? and “Who did It?” ring out. Blame, blame, blame! “How are we going to empty it?” the family laments.
Desperate digging has occurred. No arm long enough. No yardstick stick strong enough or lacross stick deep enough. Spit out with careful, persistent, prying, one uniform shirt, a skirt , and boxer shorts. What will be done about this bulimic monster? “Let’s get a very long piece of PCV pipe and poke it to death!”
But still the greedy clothes shoot sits, like a plump stuffed pepper. The laundry is washed, what little has been liberated. The panic has quieted, waiting for a burp.
Maybe it’s time to go shopping.