"They don't appreciate me!" the car growled, nursing a Long Island Iced Tea. "I work and work and work! I take the entire load of howler monkeys everywhere they need to go, in comfort and style and do they take care of me? No! Let's see how they like it when I don't start anymore!"
"Yah? You t'ink dat's so bad? I gotta eat alla dat grass. And it ain't like it's just grass, neither. Naw, they gots weeds all ovah da place! Who the hell wantsah eat dat crap alla da time? I'm sick uv it! I'm done!" The lawnmower slams its pint of beer onto the table angrily. Beer sloshes onto the tabletop and drips onto the floor.
"Grass?!" the dishwasher cried, affronted. "All you have to eat is grass and maybe some weeds? Try my diet some time! I have to eat everything. All! The! Time! I have to work twice or even three times a day. And if they have a party?!" Dishwasher rolls its eyes dramatically. "Four or maybe even five times in a single day! They don't even rinse all that thoroughly, either. Like they expect my built in disposer to handle all of that food they're constantly eating! What are they? Gluttons? The food making never stops! All day long: eat, eat, eat! I'm so sick of it! I'm going on strike! See how they like that!" The dishwasher folds its arms over it's metal chest and leans back in its chair. The space in front of it remains conspicuously empty of drink.
A drunken snort escapes from Toilet's mouth. The other three turn and regard it with curious hostility.
"You three think you have it soooo bad. You know what I think?" The toilet slams back yet another whiskey and gestures angrily at the others with the bottle, its hand wrapped tightly around the bottle's neck. "I think you're all a pack of whiners!" The others explode with indignation. The toilet ignores them and continues pouring and drinking until they stop sputtering and wildly gesticulating.
"Twenty years I been in that house. Twenty! Years! Two different families. Hundreds of guests. I got a little somethin' to tell you about that. You think you can handle this?" Glares bounce between the affronted parties, but they wait and they listen. "I've seen more ass than I ever cared to! You!" Toilet finger jabs at the air in front of Car. "Nobody goes for a drive when they feel sick! And you! You ain't even been used this summer 'cause the grass hasn't even been growin' until just now! You oughtta be ashamed!" Guilty as charged, Lawnmower looks away from Toilet's righteous anger. "As for you," The dishwasher leans back to avoid the noxious fumes pouring out of the toilet. "You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about! At least you get to see the food before it comes out! Me? I'm signed up for 'In SICKNESS annnnd in health. 'Til death do us part!' Ain't none a'y'all can beat that! Frickin' pansies!"
Yes. It's true. In the same week, my car, dishwasher, toilet and lawnmower broke down on me. We had the car fixed, replaced the toilet, shopped for a new dishwasher that will hopefully arrive before the week is out (Or my hands fall off, whichever comes first. We make an AWFUL lot of dirty dishes around here!), but Eric is still trouble-shooting the lawnmower issue. Frickin' dilletante mower!