A Day In The Life Of The Average Appliance

It was the average morning, I heard the light steps of my owner, Jenny Dear spring dopily down the stairs, she slapped my handle rather harshly if I do say myself, dropping two floppy pieces of bread into me as I began to heat up. I didn't really want to work today, it was hot and the sun was making my metal burn as the toast crackled within me. She slopped over and took the toast out, burning her fingers as she slammed them down on the plate, grabbing a knife and buttering the two slabs carefully.

A small plume of steam caught my attention from across the road, our next door neighbour was making a cup of tea, I glinted impressively in the sun, hoping the kettle would notice. An extra spurt of steam told me that she had seen my impressive of sheen as the kettle started to shiver with pressure, I was so in there! I mean I am top of my class in toaster technology, a light blue sheen, light ocean spray said the tin that painted me, three red buttons that count down the time until the toast is ready. I winked these at the kettle through the window as it shuddered again.

That was when my owner came and unplugged me, muttering about electrical surges, guess she saw my red lights flickering, the kettle was poured over next door and also unplugged for spurting too much steam…ah I have that affect on some appliances.

Jenny Dear slammed the door as the second member of the house came down…oh gods it was him, the one we all feared, it was Jenny Dear's little brother, Max You Idiot, dozy blue eyes and short arms, his brown hair flopped into his eyes as he stretched, ready to be taken to wherever seven year olds go as he turned to me. He had used me three times now under supervision of his older sister, I had heard stories about him from the Playstation upstairs, tantrums, buttons pushed ridiculously hard, cables ripped…oh no its to terrible I can't continue. He dropped the bread into me and turned the settings cautiously, yes, easy does it, I'll be good, then he flicked my switch (not that way! The kettle next door certainly does though…) he looked at me confusion on his face. I'm unplugged; see the plug at the back. Ouch, prodding me will not help buster! Ouch, oh, OK that was unmerciful! OK now he's shouting at me, plug mate, need electricity! Shouting wont help, I don't work on hot air. OK what are you doing? I don't like it at this height! Put me back on the counter, don't let go! Ahhhh!

The toaster made a satisfying smash as it collided with the floor.

Unfortunately it didn't look too badly smashed but I suppose I'm the only one around here that knows how to destroy anything properly but luckily I'm out of reach. In more ways than one, not just on the physical higher level for that brat but in every other way, no blender compares to me, top of the top, best of the best, no other appliance dares oppose me. Heh. You see the key to my success is that I enjoy my job, the slow trickle of juices as I rapidly rip them to pieces, the squelch of the food, especially fruit, so many colours to bleed, I love peaches the best, soft and sweet, easy, the perfect prey as I see it carried through the air so high only to fall into my waiting jaws, my blades spin and swirl buzzing, humming my funeral tune as I scream. The food shivers and my blades swish as their particles melt and turn to slush as they slump, defeated in my grasp, only to be poured silkily slow in smooth (I pride myself in leaving no lumps) dribbles of oozing sludge. It slides from the chasm of my insides, leaking out until only deaf memories linger across my walls, stains splattered over me, waiting to be washed away, just like the fruit before.

Here comes the hound, Stupid Animal, bright rolling eyes that extend into forever endless white as its tongue hangs, dribbling all over the place, all over my kitchen! Thinks it can stroll in here and sniff whoever it likes, tch, he's been known to take the odd swipe at the work surface, sometimes he takes one of the others with him as well as the food, that's how the last blender went apparently, I always keep a watchful blade on him…

What's that he got in his mouth? Ha, he's got Jenny Dear's phone! She won't be pleased. Here comes Max You Idiot again, avoiding the strewn fragments of the toaster he reaches down and pulls the phone unceremoniously from the dog's mouth and throws it next to me, the silver flicked with stains of dog dribble, small puncture dents and marks all over its silver sheen, its screen whirling with different colours as it swirls and hisses odd tones and bleeps of indignation. Humph, not my problem, I ignored the unclean specimen, dire excuse for a phone and went back to my deep thoughts of how many different ways I could cut my next victim.

Kitchen appliances! Useless, unfeeling, only concerned with there jobs! Bah! Here I am sitting in drool as it slowly drips from me and do I get any sympathy? No I don't, not that I would expect anymore from that murderous blender, morbid thing, when he was in more of his friendly moods I was delighted by his long tails of how many fruits and in how many different ways he had cut them up. Joy. I mean I'm a phone I have to listen to tedious things but that just pushes the limit, though as I said he is a kitchen appliance, a morbid blender. And that so called microwave is useless, temperamental you see, spitting at passers by with sparks and steam, having hot flushes all the time and over cooking the food, setting itself alight in hopes of escaping to a 'better place'(if you call the bin a better place) its going about it all right, of course I know where its gets it from, the oven. Ridiculous machine and filthy, takes no pride in its appearance, things go in there and you'll never get the stench of grime off it no matter how many times it gets scrubbed and the kettle, oh don't get me started on that, all kettles are bad, the flirt next door for example though I would prefer her to the one we have, ancient tin can, I'm surprised they don't hang it over a cauldron to boil, always the grandma figure of course.

Here comes But Mum. She's not to happy with Jenny Dear apparently, failed her Math's and French GCSE's because she was hanging around with Dave, of course But Mum doesn't know its because of that. If only she had asked me, oh well, Jenny Dear is going out with Dave tonight. Sounds a right waster to me but I am only a humble phone, who am I to see the faults of the everyday life and point them out?

Ah, the hardships I have to endure.

Of course I was shocked when I heard that Jenny Dear had failed maths and French, terrible thing, what must But Mum think I don't know! I would have a few words with her but what does an old tin can of a kettle like me know? All because of this Dave person it's shocking, wouldn't happen back when I was within my guarantee oh no it wouldn't and the language these youngsters use today! Never would such filth grace the tips of my owner's tongue. Here comes But Mum now, ah she's seen the toaster, spirited young appliance, a little close to blowing his fuse sometimes but he does make me froth with laughter sometimes. I do hope he's alright…

It's a solitary life out here, I think that's why I have my eating disorder, Daddy had to empty me three times yesterday. I need help. The isolation is too much, I'm starting to rust, I'm past my guarantee, the other lawnmower's laugh at me with their multiple gears and their owners bobbing around on them like formula one drivers. Well I'm proud of not looking like some car hybrid, they're just prejudice. I live in a world of racism. Ah, what's this? The toaster? What's that doing here? Ouch, I guess it's the bin for him, alas such is the world we live in, everything is disposal, left to clog the filth of the landfills, that will be our fate, the appliances. Such is a lonely life.

Oh. My. Freaking. God. What have they done to you! You look different! I have to so call everyone and tell them what happened, if only my ring tone was a bit louder I could alert the whole kitchen. The toaster was back. But…he wasn't the toaster, he was. Hah, two knives and a fork. So I let my laughter ring tone go off. He didn't have to look at me so nastily, those prongs look awful sharp.

"You may laugh" he says to me. "But the other half of me got recycled into a new spare part for the kettle next door!"

Thus the appliances lived happily ever after. Even the lawnmower, which was turned into new parts for a car. He and the engine are getting married next month, a winter wedding, so not to aggrivate his hayfever.

The moral to the story? Recycle! Oh, and, if your toaster starts acting weirdly, ask next door to bring their kettle round.