Bored (Ironing) Board

CHAPTER 1

Non-iron shirts? Pah! What nonsense. Everything needs ironing. Although it would seem not... not since he had been left in the corner, folded away, shoved next to the wardrobe with all those crisp non-iron shirts.

"I used to be vital," he murmured to himself, as dust accumulated on the poppy pattern cover which had not been replaced for years. "I used to take pride of place in front of the TV on a daily basis." - he sighed - "But now look at me! Defunct, derailed, decommissioned..."

He decided. He wasn't going to take this lying down (or propped up in the corner beside the wardrobe). He was going to make a stand. Or if not make one, then stand on one. A stand, that is. He was going to unfold, unfurl... untie these shackles of disuse and neglect.

He was going to be...

The ironing board that lived!

***

CHAPTER 2

Although he couldn't, because he was just an ironing board.

"Bugger," he said, and accumulated more dust.

[ fin ]