Never give the washer a mouth

It was a boring Wednesday afternoon. The sun had decided to hide away in a far off place, leaving the gray clouds to prance about and cause trouble with their insolent little raindrops. I hate the rain, so I was doomed to meander about my shabby cottage without anything to do worthwhile.

My cottage was the smallest on the hill, but in my opinion it was the only one that felt like a home. Everything inside it had its own personality, its own history of sorts. Mismatched furniture donned the worn floorboards to their own delight, never quite realizing how wonderful their lives were. Stacks upon stacks of books lie about the cottage, the majority of which were passed down through the years from various family members. Perhaps the most wonderful place in the cottage is the kitchen. There all the magical trinkets and non-magic devices are forced to live together around the fireplace.

I made my way into the kitchen and sat down on my stool, warming my hands by the fire. The boredom began to eat away at me even more than usual, so I reached up and attempted to grab Elaine from the cobblestone mantle of the fireplace.

"Oh yeah, she's gone on vacation...." I muttered, forgetting that her absence is what caused my intense boredom in the first place.

My wand had decided to take a vacation to Egypt (she had always wanted to travel there) for the weekend, so I could not amuse myself by casting charms on the non-magic folk that lived on the hill. The non-magic folk were beginning to fear me, for I would always make sure to carry Elaine in plain sight while muttering nonsense spells.

After about a half hour of wondering what adventures my wand was having, I suddenly remembered that my mother, Agatha, had left her old wand behind so I would get the ash stones inside it replaced. Climbing the three flights of stairs to my bedroom, I was thinking of all the wonderfully deviant things I could do to Mr. Fargle from my window.

Mr. Fargle was a nice old man, but he hated wizards. Some say that his wife left him for a wizard years ago and he never quite got over the ordeal. From the moment I moved in my cottage, Mr. Fargle has made it his duty to try and make me miserable. He often tries to sabotage my broom on my way to town, re-arranges my garden fairies in the yard--garden fairies are very territorial, ya know--and even lets my cat loose every so often. She is a stupid cat. She gets lost within moments and wanders the hill searching for a new home until I happen to find her on one of my walks around the hill.

I looked out my window and noticed all the lights were off in Mr. Fargle's cottage. Apparently, the non-magic folk liked to celebrate this strange idea surrounding a turkey and did so by gorging themselves with the bird. I figured he wouldn't be back for hours, so I began wandering around my house yet again, searching for anything that will pass the time.

It was then when it hit me.

How fun would it be for me to cast a little charm that will give my old mortal washing machine a mouth in which to talk? Oh, it would be brilliant! I'm sure that a washing machine has lots of things to say...

Within seconds, I was thoroughly convinced that I was the cleverest wizard alive and had hardly blinked before the machine said its first words.

"What are you?" the machine inquired. I assumed it was a man speaking, for the voice was quite deep.

"I am a wizard! My name is Winston...and you are?" I asked. The washing machine didn't seem to understand what I had said.

"I know what you are. You are one of those annoying, talking people that like to push their dirty undergarments in my head. I already don't like you." With that, the machine closed his mouth with a dignified air, daring me to deny it.

"I'm not one of those people. I don't even use machines like you to do my clothes."

“Machines like me? Oh....so you are saying that you are above me now? I apologize, Mr. Wizard that thinks he knows everything in the whole world. I am not worthy of your presence, am I?"

The machine had a nasty habit of spitting small amounts of water onto the floor as he spoke, and a few bursts of the liquid managed to get on my robe during his rant.

“Of course you are worthy of my presence. If you were not, I would not have given you a mouth."

"What is this 'mouth' that you speak of?"

"It’s that thing in your belly that is allowing you to speak to me."

“Never heard of such a thing. You are a blubbering idiot." With that, the washing machine laughed so hard that the rotating device inside him started to whirl. By now, I was starting to think that the washing machine was as mean towards wizards as Mr. Fargle.

"What grounds do you have to say such a thing?"

"These grounds!" the machine replied. Suddenly, I was drenched in moldy water that smelled like the inside of a dusty old closet. Another roar of laughter escaped from his mouth as I used a cleaning spell to get the stink off myself.

"Now that is the last straw! One more word from you and I'll cast a spell that will burn you alive!" I said menacingly. The machine scoffed at my threat.

"Seriously...I'm made of metal, idiot. I won't burn, just melt. Anyways, I was having fun talking with you. Don't get your broom all tangled...I was just poking fun at you. You'll find I'm quite the innocent fellow once you get to know me."

Something about the way his mouth moved made me think otherwise, but I was still pretty bored and thought the worst was over. Wrong again.

"Now that you are done being a pansy, I would like to get back to this 'mouth' concept. Does everything have a mouth or is it just for the privileged few? What is a mouth used for? Does it hurt when it is removed? Why didn't I have a mouth before?"

“Before I answer any of those questions I want you to do something for me. Take your mouth and close it for five minutes. Then, I will try and explain to you what a mouth truly is." The machine obeyed to my astonishment and I proceeded to answer his questions without much enthusiasm. He began to get bored with the subject soon after and started up his insults once again.

"I don't see why something as strange as you should have a mouth. You have no rivets or bolts; your frame is flabby and contains no metal at all. In fact, it kind of makes me squeamish just looking at you."

“You know what; I'm tired of you thinking you are the superior one here. Did you forget that I am the person who gave you the mouth you cherish right now?" My face was beginning to turn crimson. This machine was a few words away from being out the window.

“I know that I am superior. I come from a long line of washers, servicing the needs of these undergarment wearers for years and years. Do you think I like tasting dirty laundry all day? It is quite disgusting, actually. How about you try stuffing clothes in your mouth and sucking them clean. Ha! That would be the day..."

Just then I got another brilliant idea.

I flicked my wand twice around the washer, whispered 'aloha karma', and as quick as the washer was there blabbing to the world, it was gone.

Let's just say Mr. Fargle will have an interesting welcome home gift upon his return.