Q sent me this really cool website which gives you writing prompt options. I thought I'd give it a whirl. *deep breath* Wish me luck. Try not to make too much fun of me if this turns out awful.
Write from the point of view of a spoon inside of a dishwasher.
201, 202, 203…how many rotations is that now? On and on and on, the sprinkler spins above my head. I always watch it. It’s about all there is to do in here. Sit in my little compartment next to Fork, Knife, and Pastry Brush and wait and count rotations.
I remember my first trip through. The old Wooden Spoon, cracked and splintered with age, said that They call it the Dishwasher.
“Why?” I’d asked when I and my siblings were tossed into these uncomfortable compartments.
“You are a dish, are you not?” said Old Wooden Spoon.
“No, I’m technically a…”
“You get dirty when They use you to eat, do you not?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“Then you must be put into Dishwasher.”
That was all. No further explanation as to why I must go through this hot, steamy, sweltering event three times a day, seven days a week. I must because They say I must.
Dishwasher isn’t so bad. He’s a nice fellow, even if he is hot and muggy. My first wash, well, he was kind to me.
“First time through, kid?” he’d asked with a smile.
I’d nodded, wondering if he agreed with Old Wooden Splinter Face.
Dishwasher chuckled, “Don’t worry. I’m not as bad as you think.”
So, everyday, They put me into Dishwasher. Everyday, I count the rotations of the sprinkler, listening to the whoosh, whoosh of the water and the brom, brom of the motor.
I hate getting my face wet.