Towel Time
What a beautiful day! Perfect weather for sun, sea and sand. But of course, you being you didn't bring a towel! At least there's a shack over there supplying them; it looks awfully empty though. The queue line is free of people so you immediately get to the front. There's a muscular border collie at the desk, he's flicking through a magazine non-nonchalantly as you approach him. He licks his finger as he turns a page, he isn't even paying attention to you.
“You looking for a towel? Sorry, we're all out” he mumbles not even attempting to maintain eye contact. Perhaps if the place was more professional this wouldn't happen!
“There has to be something!” you beg eagerly, the lovely toasty beams of the sun beckoning you to lay down on the soft sand. The collie tuts as he pushes the magazine away and stands up, cracking his knuckles.
“Yeah, there's one way we can get you a towel. You willing to do this, right?” You nod in anticipation, who knows what it could be? But who cares, its the beach! “Cool.” He grabs you by your head and pulls you over the counter, leading you into a backroom where there's only a wringer, glistening in the sun. “This is what we use for the towels.” He pushes you into it head first as he rotates the crank, your body squishing and squelching as you're dragged through, your toes wiggling in fright as you become tighter and tighter.
You gently float out the other side of the wringer, softly falling to the ground like a feather; the collie grabs a hold of you before you land and takes you back into the booth, placing you on the desk and resting his palms on top of you, spreading you out until your body becomes a more rectangular shape. It's strange but his velvety palms feel so smooth on you as he presses more and more, spreading you further and further until you resemble a sheet, or in this case...
“Fresh towel! Anyone need a towel!” he yells uncharacteristically enthusiastically. “Got a nice fresh towel for the first lucky customer!”