How dangerous can vacuum cleaners be?

Housewife, Dawn, doesn't much like housework -- and her vacuum cleaner doesn't much like her ...

The third in a series of short stories by Camlo de Ville

Sharon and Fiona lolled about in front of the television watching their favourite kid's programmes, while their father, Jim, read the paper in his armchair.

It was one of those cold, damp Saturdays. The sort of day to snugly stay indoors with the fire on and just relax.

Dawn had better things to do; the house had to be cleaned from top to toe. A housewife couldn't afford to be idle.

But Jim knew she spent her time from Monday to Friday chin-wagging with the neighbours over endless cups of tea, while he was at the office and the girls at school.

The drone of the industrial vacuum cleaner, the bangs and thumps of objects being thrown, tossed and shoved out of the way, and Dawn's screechy voice grew ominously louder as she worked her way through the house, her rantings escalating as she progressed.

By the time she reached the hallway, which was where she was now, the girls were sluts, Jim a filthy pig, and all of them good for nothing lazy sods.

There was no point in trying to calm her down. Nor in offering to help.

Only she was capable of cleaning the house properly. The rest of them were useless lumps of nothing, and what the hell had she done to deserve all this? And so she went on, and on, and on … every Saturday.

If only Jim could be one of those men who go out for a pack of cigarettes never to return. But there was the mortgage, the bank loans – the latest being for the new supersonic industrial vacuum cleaner --, and the girls to consider. No, he'd never do that to them.

Besides, Dawn had made him give up smoking years ago.

Sighing, Jim turned the page of his paper. Not that he was reading it. He just stared at it and thought of 'if onlys'.

In spite of Dawn's confounded din, he closed his eyes and drifted off into his own world.

Dawn was on the threshold of the sitting room, the cleaner's turbo attachment banging against the door frame. With belligerent steadiness, she and the roaring vacuum cleaner invaded the room.

“Get off the floor, you lazy buggers!” she screamed at the girls. “Here I am, slogging myself to death and all you two can do is lay about on your fat arses ...”

Lethargically, the girls got up and plonked themselves on the sofa.

Dawn hauled the cleaner to the spot right in front of the television, making sure it bashed every piece of furniture in its path.

This little area took up the most of her time. Not that it was dirtier than elsewhere, but it obstructed the girls' view very nicely.

And it was here that the cleaner refused to suck up a long, white thread that was embedded in the carpet's pile – regardless of how much Dawn 'slogged' over it like a mad thing.

Swearing profusely, she yanked off the turbo attachment and tried without it.

It didn't work.

“What the hell is this?” she screeched. “Don't think I'm getting on my hands and knees to pick it up." She turned to the girls. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Seeing me down on my hands and knees ...”

The girls rolled their eyes.

All at once, the cleaner's pitch was shriller than Dawn's.

Its nozzle had bonded itself to her fluffy pink slipper.

She tugged at it.

It didn't budge.

She tugged again.

It wasn't moving.

“What the –,” she started, about to kick the slipper off.

Too late -- her foot had disappeared up the hose.

The girls sniggered and quickly covered their mouths.

Balancing on one foot, Dawn jerked frantically at the pipe in an attempt to detach it from the cleaner. It was jammed. "Help me!" she screeched at the girls, and toppled over backwards.

The girls couldn't help themselves, and burst into laughter.

Taking advantage of her weak position on the floor, the cleaner guzzled in her leg with a long thrrruuud.

“Do something!” Dawn squawked desperately. “Pull the plug out!”

Before she could say anything more, her buttocks slid into the tube with a shloob shloob and a thrrrub and her free leg jolted upwards so that she did the splits that made her eyes water.

“Didn't know she was so agile,” said Sharon, the eldest.

The cleaner assumed a grinding tone, and her abdomen slithered its way into the pipe while her mouth clapped wildly.

“At least she's quiet for once,” said Fiona.

With a raucous trumpeting and shlup shlup and brrraaah, the cleaner slurped in her breasts.

“Woah!” Sharon cheered . “Better than telly, isn't it?”

Dawn's hands went in last, her fingers wriggling as they vanished into the tube.

Returning the gesture, Sharon put up a hand and said, "Bye, Mum!"

And with that, the cleaner belched and farted, and its tone descended to its usual drone.

“It won!” hollered Fiona, arms outstretched in the air.

Jim put down his paper. “Is it done?”

“Yes. It got her,” said Sharon.

"Can we turn it off now?" Fiona said, springing up from the sofa.

Jim nodded.

Fiona pressed the ON/OFF button and the cleaner hummed to silence. "I'm dying to see what's inside," she said, reaching for the lid to the dust bag.

“I'll do that,” said Jim, pulling himself up from his chair. “Might be dangerous.”

With thumb and forefinger, he extracted the bloated bag and held it up for inspection.

Fascinated, the three of them stared at it.

“That's all that's left of her?” said Sharon.

"What did you expect?" said Jim. "She was nothing more than hot air."

“What now?” asked Fiona.

Jim went to the fireplace and tossed it in. "She wanted to be cremated," he said, taking a pace backwards as the fire flared.

They watched the flames melt it to ash.

“Smells a bit like pork chops,” said Fiona.

Looking rather chuffed, Jim rubbed his palms together and said, “Who's for going out to lunch?”

But before the girls could reply, he heard a familiar, yet discomforting, voice.

“Get your bloody feet up,” it said, “You don't think I'm cleaning round you, do you?”

And there was this loud drone – like the vacuum cleaner.

Jim opened his eyes.

“I said get your feet up, you idle slob!” shrieked Dawn, standing before him.

If only, thought Jim. If only ...

Thank you for reading!