Craig had to do laundry. He hated doing laundry. It was always boring.
Even in his new house, with its new washing machine, and new dryer, or new clothesline out back in the idyllic paradise of his new yard, he thought it was boring.
Until he tried to do it.
Grumbling, he shoveled his underwear and t-shirts and even the socks that went missing under his bed into the laundry basket, and trumped down the stairs to put the load into the washing machine.
When he opened the door, however, the washing machine wasn't there.
In its place was a wall of screaming faces. Each was pressed up against a dozen neighbors. All of them screamed.
Craig screamed and slammed the door shut.
"I didn't just see that," Craig said to himself. "I'm just tired."
Craig opened the door. The washing machine glistened. He glanced into the corners, as if the wall of faces might be hiding somewhere.
Craig shook his head.
"Very tired," he thought. He jammed the wash into the washing machine and cranked the knob to turn it on. The motor's quiet hum soothed him. Craig went to go sit on his couch. Half of a movie later, he was fast asleep.
The buzzing of the washing machine pierced his peaceful dreams. Craig got up to go check the wash, all memory of the screaming faces gone.
He opened the door, went in, and moved the wash into the dryer. Its motor took up the soothing hum and Craig left to go fix himself a snack. While he twisted the top off of a jar of salsa, he cursed.
"Dammit, I forgot to put in a dryer sheet," he mumbled to himself.
He opened the door to the laundry room, and the wall of faces had returned. Craig screamed as well and was about to throw the door shut when he realized something.
The faces were not screaming. They didn't look mad and they weren't in agony. They didn't even look particularly upset. They were yelling, and they looked bored about it, like a tired referee shouting over the sports match.
Craig opened the door again.
Now the faces looked surprised.
One by one, the yelling stopped.
"Hullo?" one of the faces asked. "Why are you yelling?"
Craig stopped yelling, too.
"Why were you yelling?"
"Because we're always quite startled whenever somebody opens that door!"
The Moral: spooky dimensional intruders probably consider your face outlandish