The Wet/Dry Vac from Hell

Far below modern society, in the bowels of the craggy underworld, there exists a creature whose heinous deeds in life, were punished with the most severe wrath. He is forever doomed to live in a world of dust and grime, with a severe case of OCD. No matter how often he cleans, he will never escape, and his screams echo through the cavernous expanse of hell.

Taking momentary pity on him, the dark prince forged out of the lava the most sinister wet/dry vac. in existence. Seeing how evil it was, how much it enjoyed the torture of dust particles, made the creature cocky. He now longer felt the intensity of the evil sting that was to be his eternal punishment. The dark prince, now enraged, cast the demon vacuum out of hell, forever banishing it to the dark recesses of a broom closet in an abandoned house.

I am probably the most ignored piece of equipment in the history of cleaning products. I have been happier though, ever since Peter found my eternal tomb. Now, he brings people here all the time, whether conscious or not. Some times they are laughing and stumbling, and tracking in lots of dirt from the outside. Other times, he drags them in, and that’s even better. Better because I know, that soon I will again have purpose. Today two new people have come to visit. Though they always leave in bags, they come in messy. And I relish the opportunity.

From my spot in the corner, I can see the bottom of her shoes as they are pulled over the threshold into the entryway. It has been too long since my last massacre. His usual setup has been carefully laid out, and the anticipation is mounting. The second set of dirty shoes connected to an unconscious set of limbs is dragged into my domain and I can’t stifle a small whirr from my gears as I imagine the disaster about to ensue.

He ties them to the tables, preparing for the boring part of the evening. I can hear him talking to them. I have never understood humans. So many appendages, too many uses. I prefer my simple, destructive lifestyle. The long hibernation is maddening, but my function is clear and satisfying.

They are both awake now. He savors this part. I find it a dull precursor to the true evil act. The sick pleasure I obtain from sucking the remains from the carpet. Something is different this time. I hear sirens cracking the thick silence that has always existed in this abandoned place. Peter does too. He kills them quickly; the mess is immense. I swell with an unbearable desire, knowing I am to come next.

He doesn’t come to the closet. He is dumping gasoline everywhere. He screams into the night his contempt and failure at being stopped. He cannot possibly know how I feel. He drops the match. From the fire, to the fire, my cycle is at least complete.

The house goes up in flames as an ambulance flashes down the road on its way to some other travesty.

It is a campy, dramatic tension piece that mirrors the dark secret lying in wait inside all of us.