Day 35 – The Never-Ending Washing Machine

Inspired by my 3hr saga of a cycle just to wash my bloody towels.


Word count: 724



Jessica dropped her paint brush in favour for the dishes. They were piled high by the sink. She’d spent the entire morning working on creating a glacier out of cardboard, glue, icing sugar, water colour paint and porridge oats. It was going to be the most fantastic glacier in the entire world. It would cover the lighthouse of Whitley Bay and devour the fossils and coal that were formed in the stone there. But now was the time to do the menial chores that no one ever wants to do. After the dishes she went up to her pristine room and collected her bed sheets from her laundry basket and piled them into the washing machine.

It was a brand new washing machine of unknown Eastern-European origin. Whether or not it was legally allowed in the country, Jessica was unsure. Its instructions were not written in a language she recognized and the pictures in the manual certainly didn’t match what she could see with her eyes. It had a whole orchestra of knobs and dials, buttons and flashing lights. When pressed, turned and set correctly, they would sing in perfect symphony with each other. Jessica was promised by her remarkably sweet and efficient letting agent that this washing machine would revolutionize the way she would do her washing.

As she poured the liquid detergent in to the shiny new drawer, she was filled with hope and joy at the thought of some fresh, clean bed sheets. Jessica closed the door – she no longer had to kick it – and, with anticipation, pressed the on button.

Nothing happened for a good few minutes; nothing abnormal anyway. The usual drone of the water being injected in occurred and the drum started to rotate. It was a good hour before Jessica realized that the water running into the drum wasn’t just water, but tainted with red. She screamed when she saw the red foam frothing.  Jessica tried to switch off the washing machine but it wouldn’t respond. The lights were off but the drum kept going round and round. She tried to pull the door open but it wouldn’t release. All she could do was to watch it spin, all the while dying her beautiful white bed sheets a fabulous blood red.

Hours passed and it would not stop. Jessica started to panic. Something wasn’t right. Even with the power on, this cycle should have only lasted forty five minutes. Everything it was doing went completely against the guidelines of the manual. The noise reduction was certainly a failure too, for it was vibrating so much it was almost rocking off the floor. Perhaps it was time to call a man, but Jessica would never get the chance now.

All of a sudden the cycled that seemed never ending stopped. Its lights returned fully flashing and a deep humming from somewhere within its circuit board began. Jessica stared blankly at it, utterly perplexed by what was going on.  The inanimateness was just a ploy for it then started to vibrate and lift itself off the floor as a deep, dark voice projected itself from the detergent drawer.

“I am the robotic servant of the Gallatian People of Echelon Seven Zero One, known by The Human Race as Mars. Your planet is to be invaded. Please put down your television remote controls and obey. You must obey.”

These words were not just broadcasting to her immediate area though. They were broadcasting to the entire world at large. All over the world the millions on millions of people of different genders, race and colours were hearing the same words iterated in their own language. But Jessica no time for this. She needed her bed sheets to be dry so she got went out to the shed and took from it an old shovel and returned to her now dismantled kitchen. Summoning all the strength she had, she whacked the washing machine right in the door, smashing its glass. It fell back down on the floor and remained silently smoking from the back. From the broken door she dragged out her semi-dry washing and began to hang them up in the lounge.

“Bloody washing machines never do as their told,” she said, giving the thing another whack as she went upstairs to prepare her bed for a set of clean linen.

~ by S.G. Mark on November 11, 2011.

One Response to “Day 35 – The Never-Ending Washing Machine”

  1. Hehehehe good one.

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