LAUNDRY 101:
By: ShadowWing
Disclaimer: Bruce Wayne (and his inability to do laundry), Dick Grayson, and Tim Drake all belong to DC Comics, no money swapping hands, no sue the rather poor author. Belle Anderson is mine and this little story takes place right after Da Wolfie Gal's tale "If All Else Fails, Hire the Pizza Boy…"
Author's note: As a Home Economics Teacher I DO know how to do laundry, so the info Belle gives Brucie in this tale is accurate, honest!
"Uh huh, you added bleach didn't you?" Mused Belle Anderson while peering into the washing machine at Wayne Manor.
Bruce whined in response.
"And HOT water too I bet..." She continued.
Bruce nodded with a pitiful look at Belle.
"Lost cause Bruce, the clothes are dead, the whites may be salvageable, but the rest is history."
Bruce looked at Belle with pleading eyes, "Help me?"
Belle rolled her eyes, "Oh alright!!! Quit with the puppy dog eyes! I'll help you. We can't have millionaire Bruce Wayne running about naked, though that'll give every female in Gotham a thrill." Bruce glared; Belle had him by the short hairs and was enjoying every second of it.
"So what do we do first?" Muttered Bruce looking just about helpless, homicidal maniacs the man could handle, but show him basic domestic chores and he was a marshmallow.
Belle shook her head; "First we try to save the poor white articles currently in that machine." She stated with a pointed glance at the machine. "Take them out and sort them, ruined whites in one sopping pile, ruined colors in the other, and no I'm not doing it for you."
Bruce shot her another dirty look as he dolefully hoisted the wet clothes out of the machine and under Belle's watchful eye sorted them into two semi neat piles on the table in the laundry room. "Good now dump the whites back into the machine and toss the darks either in the trash or pray Goodwill with take them." After deciding that Goodwill would not want striped clothing, he grabbed the bleach and was about to pour a healthy amount directly into the washing machine when Belle's shriek of surprise stopped him.
"Not like that!" She yelped.
"How else am I suppose to add bleach to the laundry Belle?" Bruce asked flabbergasted.
Belle pointed to a small opening covered by a plastic grate just inside the lid of the machine, clearly labeled: "PLEASE POUR BLEACH HERE" Just slightly ruffled he was about to pour his healthy amount into the little grate when Belle gave a discrete cough.
"Measuring cup." she sweetly reminded. With a stifled snarl Bruce grabbed to measuring cup from it's plain as day location on top of the washing machine, measured out a cup of bleach, and poured into the specially marked little grate that his keen powers of observation and detection had failed to notice the first time. With a slightly more force than needed he slammed to lid down and was about to start the machine again when another cough came from Belle.
"Now what?" He whined.
"Make sure the water is the right temperature. Cold for colors, warm to hot for light colors and whites." Stated Belle calmly. Bruce checked, hit the right buttons, and then turned the dial to start the machine, since there was no warning cough from Belle he pulled out the knob to start the machine with relief.
"Now." Stated Belle, "We'll start on the next load while that cycle is going, first we sort. Darks, lights, and Dry Cleanables."
"Dry clean?" Muttered Bruce with horror as he looked forlornly at the lovely hand tailored Italian suit that was now a soggy pile of rags on the laundry.
"Yes." Stated Belle, in a matter of fact voice. She then pulled the suit out of the soggy pile and showed Bruce the care tag that was still in pristine condition, unlike the rest of the suit. The tag stated in bold, black letters: "DRY CLEAN ONLY" Now being sure that he checked every tag Bruce sorted the rest of his laundry into the three prescribed piles under Belle's watchful eye, and snide snickering.
Three hours later:
The Laundry was clean, folded, the proper color, and not in shreds. However Bruce Wayne was a wreck, he had no idea that doing the laundry could be such a complicated process. He then looked at the still dirty pile of dry cleanables. "Where does Alfred take those?" He grumbled.
Belle swept out of the room and came back with Alfred's Household Rolodex. After a quick search she found the card marked "Dry Cleaners" and smiled. "Here they are!" She chirped handing him the card. He read it and his eyes got huge. Belle's grin got bigger as she inched for the door.
"THEY DO REGULAR LAUNDRY TOO!!!!!!" He yelled, "AND CAN PICK IT UP AND DELIVER IT!!" His furious gaze turned to Belle. Belle smiled sweetly,
"All you had to do was look in the Rolodex, Alfred must have known how badly you would botch simple domestic duties. But look on the bright side Bruce, you learned something out of all this." Belle's grin didn't fade as his hands clenched into claws and he stomped toward her.
"You. Knew. Put. Me. Through. HELL ANYWAY!" Bruce lunged, by that point Belle was out of the basement, out of the manor and about half way back to New York, roaring by a rather shocked Tim Drake who was on a cell phone to Dick. Tim sighed.
"Yeah Dick you better find Alfred quick, I think the domestic life is getting to Bruce." Tim shook his head as the roars of Bruce Wayne and the evil cackles of Belle drifted into the Gotham night.