A Spoon’s Perspective

You never know what you’ll find in my blog.  The first time I wrote for the fun of it (which is really what it’s all about), I looked up a website filled with writing prompts.  Just my luck, I randomly picked the prompt below:

Prompt:  Write a short story from the point of view of a spoon in a dishwasher

Here I stand, as always, in this dark place.  Sometimes I get to see the light, but I always seem to find my way back here.  It’s a bit crowded…what is it with this fork and knife?  Why must they always lean on me?

It wasn’t always like this.  I remember quite some time ago, long before arriving here, I used to lay under the lights.  I didn’t get to do much, but it was nice to be appreciated by so many people as they walked by.  Sometimes they would lift me up and turn me from side to side.  I can’t explain their compulsion to lift me from my comfort, but after a little bit of time, I’d always find myself back on the table just as I had been.

Then came the day when everything changed.  I was wrapped up in tissue paper and placed in a box with a whole bunch of other spoons, forks, and knives.  We were in there for quite some time.  I admit that I lost track of time in there.

Just when I had given up hope of ever seeing light again, the box opened and light shined in.  It was incredibly bright and it took me a few minutes to adjust.  A happy couple with a stack of other boxes sat, admiring all of us on their kitchen table.  They didn’t seem to have much furniture.  I remember seeing two lawn chairs in their living room.

And thus, my new life began…work in the morning, lay in the sink throughout the day, and then into this dark place for the night.

The water is coming in now!  I can feel the steam rising from below.  The jets will turn on soon and I won’t be able to think.  The hot water will crash into me with incredible force.  This infernal fork and knife leaning on me is sure getting old.  It is amazing that so much water can be unleashed on us all at once.  Here it comes!

Ahh…finally the first cycle is over.  The water is draining out.  There is always one more cycle.  I don’t understand why, but I feel so clean after the second cycle.  More water!  Hang on!

Another cycle complete, and this is my favorite part.  The orange glow is getting brighter.  The heat is rising.  Any soreness I have is melted away with the heat.  It is very dry.  My nose burns with each breath.  Gosh, it’s hot!  When will this end?  I remember watching a plastic bowl melt in this heat.  He was never the same after that fateful day.  In fact, I never saw him on the bottom rack after that.  I occasionally catch a glimpse of him in the upper rack.  So sad to see him disfigured that way.

I can feel the heat subsiding.  The orange is fading to black.  That should do it.  All I can do is wait until morning and re-emerge for another day.  I wonder if I’ll ever get to lay under the lights again…at least I can dream.

Author: Bob Dailey

Born and raised in Southern California. Graduated from (and met my future wife at) Cal Poly Pomona, in 1988. Married to Janet for almost 35 years. Father of two: Julianne and Jennifer. Grandfather of 7. Held many positions in small, medium, and large companies. Trail runner, competitive stair climber, backpacker, camper, off-roader, world traveler, sometimes writer.

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