The Spoon

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
this short story is about a spoon that is terrified of the dishwasher.

Submitted: February 19, 2008

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Submitted: February 19, 2008

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The Spoon


Here I go again, another round in the dishwasher. I'm surrounded by vicious forks and knives. I'm just a poor helpless spoon lost in this world. I'm covered in dry, chunky, one weeks old soy milk from the frosted flakes cereal my master ate. At least it's better than last months, rocky road ice cream. Oh how I hate being in the dishwasher. I rather be thrown in the trash then go through this torture. I'm only used for special occasions so I don't get put in this death trap much. I don't even know why they call it the dishwasher, it should be more like death washer.

I would do anything to get out of here. It's not so much the soap and water that frighten me, but the evil death noises it makes when it's cleaning us. Every night I can hear it, I think it's out to get me. Just like it got my mother! I can barley even look at this horrid thing the same after her awful tragedy. It was only about a year ago when this incident happened. She got left in five minutes too long and the evil thing melted her to death! I couldn't believe it, my own mother gone, she melted just like that. It was a sad, sad day. But my master didn't think so. It's ,like she didn't even care. The rude human just picked her up and threw her away like she didn't even matter. I never ever saw her again.

That day still haunts me. Every time I hear the dishwasher start, I say a little prayer for the other spoons who have to go in there. I don't really care about the knives. They enjoy going through what I call torture. I actually pray for them to melt!! Mwahahaha. That's probably one of the only thing I look forward to in a dishwasher.

Now if I could only figure a way out of here. I don't know what to do. I try and hide from my master by laying under the forks, so she wont chose me. But somehow I always end up being used and in here. One day I know it's coming, the day where I get left in here five minutes too long and end up like my mother. Maybe today, tomorrow, or next week. I just know it's coming soon and I should be prepared. It might take me a while but I will figure out a genius way to never be used again. Even if it takes me all day and night, I will figure it out!

 


 


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