Not just yet...

This is too much, too fast. You need some time to think.

Hands shaking, you point the calculator at your mother. She closes her eyes in anticipation.

Instead of pointing the calculator at the banana, however, you point it at the wall of the laundry room and push the button.

Your mother vanishes.

An image of your mother - naked, reclining, legs spread - appears on the wall. She is motionless, frozen in that moment of anticipatory bliss. You stand up and examine her, running your fingers over the flat surface, over your mother, now two-dimensional and merged with the wall.

You glance about, and notice a row of hooks on the wall above her. Thanking providence, you being fumbling through the laundry pile and pulling out dresses. You place these on hangers and hang them from the hooks. You then go about returning the rest of the clothes to the basket, not bothering to separate your mother's discarded garments from the clean laundry.

You survey your handiwork. With your mother's lewd pose hidden from view, you should have a little time to think and figure out what to do next.