Image via Wikipedia

I follow the writing prompt of the day to irony and a wrinkled blouse that gets wedged against the ironing board that stands idly by lacking interest.

With each pressing moment, blouse increasingly reacts badly to the steam. She is a shriveling mess and does not respond well to the pressure.

Poor blouse, lying glued against the weary board. She cannot escape the fact that she lacks the constitution of cotton. She is a fake after all, a synthetic fiber mutt shipped in a box from China with other motley materialistic masses.

Blouse cannot handle the truth that she will never be like her cotton counterpart that performs somersaults in the dryer, finishing her routine with a perfect ten from the judge from Lintland.

Unlike synthetic blouse, cotton remains firm under pressure and can handle the heat, even after an ironic twist of the wrist leaves a wrinkle. Cotton does not falter. The wrinkles that line her back disappear from the rejuvenating steam iron spa. After the treatment, she is refreshed and hangs out in the bar with all the trendy clothes.

While bogus blouse, with creases embedded in her shoulders, gets tossed into a pile of rags. She is now fragments of her former self, crumpled and worn, a victim of the irony and hypocrisy of being wrinkle-free.

Writing prompt, irony, provided by Studio30Plus.