By now I’ve worked myself up into a fine froth. I have no cool left to lose. I say things I shouldn’t. I call the electric kettle a worthless appliance, a failure, a lazy slob. It could have done so much more, been more.
Been more how? it wants to know. It’s an electric kettle! It boils water!
And it couldn’t even manage that, could it? It had one job, but no, it just had to go drowning its circuits in everclear. So what good is it? Seriously, what actual use is it to me if it destroys my stuff and won’t even boil the goddamn water?
By the time I run down we’re both crying. It’s hard to tell when an appliance is crying, but I know the electric kettle well enough to recognize the signs....
This has been an excerpt from the Friday Fictionette for September 8, 2017. Subscribers can download the full-length fictionette (1073 words) from Patreon as an ebook or audiobook depending on their pledge tier.
Cover art features original photography by the author, who couldn't replicate that particular drunken blur if she tried. But she wishes she had more kinds of carpet in the house to use as cover photo backdrops. It might be time to scavenge for a few remnants wherever one finds such things