The Tables Turned - From Out the Window IP

The. Always a good start to a first sentence. Can’t you just feel the tension? No? How about, The closet door creaked open. Ooh! I’ll bet you’re on the edge of your seats in anticipation of what comes next. I know I am. Because I haven’t got a clue.

Let’s see, The closet door creaked open. Jonathan retrieved his bathrobe and made a mental note to lubricate the door hinges when he was done with his shower.

Wait. What? That sure wasn’t very interesting. I expected more. Oh, I know. Creaking doors are a cliche. You probably fell asleep half way through reading it. The deserves something more original. let’s start again.

The door reached into the closet and retrieved Jonathan’s bathrobe.

“It’s awful dull around here,” said the door. “I never get to do anything interesting. Today is going to be different. Today I break some rules.”

The door then tore itself from the frame, wrapped itself in the robe, and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

When Jonathan woke, he slid out of bed and walked the length of the bedroom. With his eye’s at half-mast he reached for the closet’s doorknob and came up empty. He then felt for the door, but again, nothing but empty space.

“Honey,” said Jonathan. “Where’d the closet door go?”

“Never mind the door,” said his wife. “Where’d the window go?”

“What?”

From out the window, or more accurately, from the hole where the window used to be, Jonathan and Joanne watched as the window raced across the lawn.

The bedroom window, having witnessed the bold actions of the door, decided to pull itself away from the house and make its way to the back yard.

“I’ve had my eye on that tire swing for years,” said the breathless window. “Now it’s my turn to play.”

“Should we be shaking each other awake?” said Joanne. “Because, as a psychologist, this doesn’t appear to be normal inanimate object behavior.”

“I must admit,” said Jonathan. “I do prefer it when our home behaves itself. I’m almost afraid to see what the rest of the house is up to.”

“The kids!” said Joanne.

When the two panicked parents arrived at girl’s bedroom, the door was missing - and so were the girls.

“Oh, my God!” said Joanne.

“Don’t stress,” said Jonathan. ”I’m sure they’ve only gone to the kitchen for some cereal. Let’s both calm down here.”

In the kitchen, Gretchen and Flo sat laughing at the table.

The old oak table was standing at the stove cooking pancakes and bacon.

“Cooking has been a dream of mine,” said the table. “I never imagined I’d be standing here like this. But when I saw the front door putting on your dad’s overcoat and hat, then walk out of the house with his briefcase, I was inspired to put on the apron and make my move. It gave me a new outlook.”

“You’re fun,” said Gretchen. “Can you make Mickey Mouse pancakes?”

“Mickey and Minnie,” said the table.

“With gobs of butter?" said Flo.

“And oodles of syrup," said the table.

When the old table was finished cooking, it handed the apron over to the grandfather clock and placed itself back in front of the children.

The clock had earlier been enticed from its place in the  parlor by the smell of bacon.

“Breakfast is served!” said the clock. “Hope I don’t trip! I’ve never carried a tray in my life. I’m so excited!”

“All right! All right!” said Jonathan as he entered the kitchen. “Enough of this! On the count of three I want everyone to close their eyes and pinch themselves. And when we open our eyes, everything will be back to normal. Okay, everyone! One. Two. Three!”

When they opened their eyes the bath-robed closet door was standing at the head of the table.

“Do I smell bacon?" said the door. “Nothing like a good hearty breakfast after a hot shower to get one motivated.”

Jonathan and Joanne grabbed the children and raced out of the house. They got in their car and drove off to parts unknown.

The old kitchen table ran out to play with the window.

“Wait for me!” said the grandfather clock. “Wait for me!”

The closet door was happy to be left alone with the pancakes and bacon.

“To think what I’ve been missing,” said the door. Oh, boy!”