I am so sick of being kicked around. Does Miss Julia ever consider my feelings? Does she honestly think that just because I hang around she can treat me any way she wants to? I get no respect! Take today for instance. I was minding my own business, dozing off in between Nancy Nike and Peggy Polo, who were too close for comfort I might add, when to my complete surprise I was jerked off my perch to be carelessly tousled around, slid over Julia’s head, and then pulled off and thrown to the floor.
If that wasn’t enough, I had a rather impromptu meeting with Sally Spalding as she nonchalantly slid her rubber casing over my cotton facade. She knows how I hate that, and yet she did it anyway. She gets away with murder in her prized and honorary role of supporting Miss Julia’s weight day in and day out.
I felt Carrie Carpet underneath me and as I was ground into her threads we became one entity. Carrie never complains, never says a word, even though this happens to us more often than not. I am more determined than ever to change it somehow. I’m getting out of here if it’s the last thing I do.
I was lying right under Fanny Fountain, but to my surprise, she didn’t drip on me today. She must have gotten her weekly tune-up or I would have been as drenched as Sarah and Susie Socks so often are when they have to accompany Julia and Sally out in the rain to jump and splash around.
The next thing I knew, my tender material was being wadded up into a ball. Humph! The indignity! Then I felt the dreaded swoosh of Annie Agitator as she swirled me around in her huge maw, and the bitter feel of Sandy Soap as she eased her slimy, slithery, liquid into my sleeve-openings. Oh, the agony! When would it ever end? I was bumped and jostled, and squished up against the cold metal interior of Mary Maytag.
A short while later Mary lurched to a halt and I heard her top groaning open. I was grabbed ruthlessly by the neck and tossed head-over-heels into Dana Dryer and boy was it hot let me tell you! Around and around and around I went. Up and down, side to side, but now that I was out of the wet, surging power of Mary’s grip, I could see Leah Levi, Connie Corduroy, Harriet Hilfiger, and Annie Adidas, experiencing the same grueling treatment.
All we could do was look at one another and silently endure this shameful event as we dreamed of ways to escape. I held fast to my determination to ditch this place however, and planned to make an exit as soon as possible. When Julia came to retrieve us from the tumultuous environs of Dana Dryer, I purposefully pressed my hot button against the skin on her bare arm until emitting a high-pitched squeal she quickly dropped me to the floor.
I waited until she disappeared and edged my way under Bonny Basket. Over the next few hours I was scrunched satisfactorily beneath Bonny and held fast when she was carried outside to sit at the feet of the infamous torture champion, Christy Clothesline. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me hang on to her for dear life while the wind blew me thoughtlessly to and fro for hours on end!
I hastily eased my grip on Bonny and curled myself into a defensive position as I hit the ground and rolled across the lawn. Fortunately there was a good breeze and I traveled for quite some time before I rolled to a stop. I lay still, expecting to be captured and sent back to clothing purgatory. When it wasn’t forthcoming I let my cotton fabric relax. I was free! I was finally free!
I couldn’t believe it, I had really done it. I had escaped just like I had planned. Now for the future, what would I do? Where would I hang?
