You decide to stuff your bag with plenty of socks and fresh undies. If there's a problem that can't be solved with Twinkies, undies, and sock…ies, you haven't found it yet. There's just one problem: you're all out of clean underwear, and your parents' washing machine hasn't worked since you used it to combine seventeen different kinds of laundry soaps in an attempt to make a fortune in the detergent industry. Fortunately, you have plenty of quarters, and aren't afraid to show your underwear to strangers, so it's off to the Laundromat.

Ah, the Laundromat. The place where the common man comes to wash his filthy clothes and sit quietly, avoiding eye contact with everyone else in the room. You head to the nearest open machine and stuff your socks and unmentionables inside. Then, the time comes for you to select a detergent. You decide on one, insert your coins, and out comes the detergent in bar form. As you reach in to grab it, however, you feel a second bar in the bin just behind it. And so, the wheels in your head start a'turning, and soon after, you toss the new, mixed bar of detergent into the machine. After a few minutes, you decide to check on the progress of your new hybrid detergent.

As you bend down to peer through the window, however, the soap reaches critical mass, and blows the door off its hinge. It catches you right between the eyes and knocks you to the floor. Moments later, you are buried by a combination of wet underwear and foam. Sure, maybe it was a mistake to pack a month's worth of undergarments into a tiny washing machine, maybe it was a mistake to put twice the amount of soap required to wash such a load into the machine, but hey; no guts, no glory. It's that very thought that runs through your concussed head as you lie on the floor, smothered by soap and half-washed clothes.

YOU'RE ALL WASHED UP! START OVER!