The Kitchen

A short story

Last night, as I was lying in bed, I heard a loud, clanking sound coming from inside the kitchen. So I got up to check it out. I thought, best-case scenario there would be a masked teenager in there for me to stab. So I was particularly disappointed to find it was just my possessed kitchen appliances engaging in some sort of ethical quarrel. “Bla bla bla, Kettle...Bla bla bla, Black Pot”, they screeched at me, as if I cared. But I didn’t. So they both turned on me, scalding me head to toe with boiling hot water. Leaving my mutilated, husk of a body on the tiles, seriously stoked for the next council clean-up.