Kurt has laundry duty for the first time. Static cling problems ensue :3
Ororo should have known she was in trouble when she saw Kurt wandering the grounds with the laundry basket an obvious weight in his cerulean arms.
“Is there a problem?”
“Ja! Where the washing line ist? I looked everywhere, und… nothing.”
Washing line? “You didn’t see the dryer?”
“Uh. Dryers are expensive, ja? The sun and wind is free.”
Ororo gave up, dropping her voice to a whisper. “We don’t have a washing line. Come on, I’ll show you how the dryer works.”
Kurt took so easily to modern technology that it was hard to remember he came from a tiny mountain town that still had cobblestones on the streets. And a blacksmith who, according to Kurt’s own tall tales, made shoes for the four-footed half of the population.
It was only in moments like this that the culture shock even showed. And in the questions he asked.
“Must I separate the colours and whites?”
“What are the little balls for?”
“Must the dryer sheets be washed first, also?”
“Where is the delicates setting?”
“Is there a powder? Or a bar?”
This was a boy who she had to stop from using a cheese grater and soap in the washing machine. And, she couldn’t help noticing, used the word ‘unglaublich’ a little too often. Still, after some entertaining side-trips down the labyrinthine lanes of confusion, all seemed sorted enough for her to get back to pruning her roses.
It was almost dinner time when unfortunate events once again made themselves suspect.
“Where’s blue? growled Logan. "He’s skipped out on gym.”
“What?” said Jean. “He was a dozen words a second on the whole idea.”
“I think I heard him swearing in the laundry room,” added Scott. “I think it was swearing. Kinda hard to tell with German.”
Ororo followed Logan down to the laundry where, indeed, soft teutonic curses were turning the air as blue as the speaker, albeit in another language.
Unfortunately for Ororo, she understood every word. She stormed past Logan with a perfect German, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” perched on her lips. She even took a deep breath as she approached the threshold.
That breath came out in helpless laughter.
“Verdammt!”
Logan, perplexed and puzzled, rushed to look.
Kurt Wagner was literally wrestling with the folding. T-shirts stuck to his hocks, socks and jocks embraced his tail, an assortment of garments concealed his arms. There was even most of a negligee making him look lie some bizarre laundry-themed ninja.
Logan was the one to charge in and begin untangling. “Static cling,” he said. “It’s a bitch.”
Ororo battled the giggles as she pitched in. “I’m sorry,” she bleated. “You just looked–”
“Ridiculous,” supplied Kurt. “Please to be getting a hills hoist? The wind and sun don’t do this.”
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