I recently began writing a new short story entitled "The Laundromat." I haven't written a true short story in such a long time and now that I've started again, I realize how much I miss it. Here is a short sample from Chapter Three:

To one corner of the room, what looked like the director was sitting on a stool. In addition to the fishily smell, there was an aroma of sweat and scented lubricants. Surrounding the director were his understudies, each memorizing his lines and studying his every movement. In case he ever became sick, one of the dozen would take his place, for the day.

What I forgot to mention was that the director had a painting for a head. No, not a mask or a hat but a painting. His head was a painting. The painting was the Mona Lisa. Inquisitively, I wondered in astonishment at the pragmatism of the situation.
Sitting across from the director was Mrs. Claus. Mrs. Claus was strategically positioned on a bed made of that NASA foam. The foam that forms around your body. Mrs. Claus looked surprisingly attractive for her age. Oddly enough, she was wearing extremely revealing lingerie. What did Santa think of that?

It wasn't until a dozen seconds had passed that I realized the absurdity of the situation. The director who had the Mona Lisa for a head was filming a pornographic film in the Laundromat. I must have walked in during one of the many breaks they take while filming a pornographic film.

Quietly, I slithered across the floor and sat at one of the tables. Nobody said anything; in fact, nobody seemed to acknowledge my presence.

An hour and twenty minutes passed and absolutely nothing happened. I was bored out of my mind. The hobo was now slumped into his Cromwellian chair only now he was fast asleep.
Click here if you want to read more.

For those interested in my work, please leave a comment so I can add you to the list of references. I don't have a link of my work available online yet but if the need arises, it can be done. It's all up to you.