Dirty Dishes

“You sure you want me to do this?” she says.

“I didn’t pay you all that money just for a quick look inside” I reply.

“You do realise I will not know what is happening to you until the program is over? I won’t be able to get you out either. You will be stuck in there the whole time” she says.

“Well that’s the idea. Just close the door and choose your program. Then forget about me like you normally would until the machine has finished” I say.

“You will honestly let me choose which program to use? Some of these take two hours and the temperature can go up to 80˚C.” She says pointing at the control panel of the machine.

“Well that’s the point. You should think of me as an object. Forget about hurting me as if I was a person. Just do what you normally would” I say.

“OK. In that case I suppose you better get inside” she says.

She had already taken the trays out and placed one of them upturned at the bottom of the machine so I do not obstruct the rotating arm at the bottom.

“Can you actually fit inside there?” she says pointing at the inside of the machine.

“Yes I think so. You have a really big machine. If I curl up” I say.

I sit on the upturned tray and pull my limbs into the machine. It is a tight squeeze but I manage to get my whole body inside.

“I will ask you again if you are sure about this?” she says.

“Just get on with it” I say.

“OK. If it’s what you really want” she says as she closes the door.

It goes dark.

(Thinking allowed to herself outside)

“I better put a couple of these tablets in the detergent draw and now which setting shall I use? He said I could choose any one I wanted. OK that should be sufficient to get him clean. I just hope that the machine is soundproof!”

She presses a few buttons and the machine springs to life as the program starts.

“There that should get my dirty dishes clean” she says as her dishwasher does its job and she walks away to do something more important.