In the hallowed yet somewhat sordid halls of King Wash Launderette, rumours swirl about the unfortunate fate of Bling-Bling’s late husband. Whispers suggest his mortal remains lie entombed beneath the cold, unyielding concrete of dryer number three. But, as is often the case with such macabre tales, the truth is far less dramatic—and infinitely more mundane.

Micheal, the overseer of this infamous laundering establishment, delights in regaling eager listeners with eerie accounts of the dryer’s door mysteriously closing on its own. Its occasional refusal to open, he insists, is irrefutable proof that the vengeful spirit of Bling-Bling’s husband still roams the corridors of washers and dryers, seeking retribution for some unfathomable crime.

Renowned throughout Paradise for its unbeatable three-dollar wash-and-dry special, King Wash Launderette owes its continued existence to the tireless efforts of its caretaker. Inheriting an ageing fleet of secondhand machines, Micheal has coaxed them back to life, persuading them to endure yet another turbulent wash cycle.

It is widely accepted that garments emerging from these weary machines are seldom cleaner than when they entered. Yet, with a deft hand and a keen eye, Micheal has discovered a simple truth: if he fluffs and folds the laundry just right, his patrons rarely scrutinise the results too closely. And so, King Wash Launderette endures—shrouded in whispered lore, haunted by the ghostly presence of Bling-Bling’s husband, and sustained by a clientele blissfully unaware of the secrets lurking beneath their freshly laundered linens.