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Suicide: The Story of a Tea Kettle

By @ky_elaine

I wake up and rub my eyes, stretching out as long as I can while letting out a small groan which I stop short. What is that noise? Through my closed bedroom door, I can hear banging and slamming seeming to come from the direction of my kitchen. I step through the doorway and am greeted by my modern dark cabinets and white countertops.

I scan the room looking for the culprit of the noise and notice that it’s coming from a big cupboard above the countertop, the one where I keep the extra things I don’t use often. I pull open the door, bracing myself for the worst, expecting to get ambushed by a rat or another rodent. The inside of the cupboard is an even bigger mess than I remember, and all of a sudden something comes flying out at me. I screech and flinch away, only to reach out at the last second when I realize what it is that is racing out of the cupboard, my teakettle!

I nearly miss it, grasping it by its handle at the last possible moment. I hold it in my hands, wondering how the heck the thing got itself out of the cupboard and wondering what else could possibly be in there. Then, I hear it. Soft sobbing sounds coming from the direction of the kettle. My hands suddenly feel wet, and I shift the kettle in my hands looking for the source.

“Don’t look at me! I don’t want you to see me like this!” says a voice.

I screech and toss the kettle onto the counter.

“Ouch! Seriously, if you’re going to help me with my suicide, you could at least do it right,” the voice says.

“Su-suicide?” I stammer.

The kettle turns and faces me, something that wouldn’t be really possible if it didn’t have a face, which it did. A face, my teakettle has a face!! “Yes suicide, what would you do if you had been sitting in the back of a dark cupboard for months, and before that an even uglier cupboard for years! I thought when you took me out to move me you were gonna use me, but I guess not. When you put me back in that cupboard, I decided that I would wait six months, and if you didn’t use me, I would break out for good. How could you do this to me?” It says.

“I’m sorry?” I say. Am I dreaming? I must be, teakettles don’t speak.

“You don’t seem sorry. All I dream for is a simple ‘Sorry Tea, I really am’ before I end my life! Is that too much to ask?”

“Tea? Is that your name? You have a name?” I ask. What next?

“Yes, I have a name! I have a name, I have feelings, and, wait for it, I have a use!!”

“And some sass,” I mutter.

“I heard that! Well, I guess I ain’t getting that apology, am I? I best be going then.” The kettle, or Tea, started scooting itself to the edge of the counter.

“Wait! You can’t do this!” I say.

“Watch me.”

“I mean, I won’t let you. You don’t need to do this, I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize you felt this way!”

The teakettle stops its scooting and slowly turns around to look at me. I see the longing in its eyes mingled with hopelessness. “How couldn’t you realize how I would feel? How would you feel if someone did this to you?” Tea asks.

“Well, I just didn’t think about it, I didn’t realize you even had feelings!”

“Why on earth would I not have feelings!” it yells. I can tell it’s getting all worked up again, seemingly more upset with every sentence I speak. I guess we know who shouldn’t be a therapist: me.

“Because you’re a teakettle!” I yell

“And you’re a woman! I can hear the news, you women get all upset when you don’t feel like you’re getting an equal chance, and here you are doing the same to me!” it yells back.

“Teakettles shouldn’t talk! They shouldn’t talk, they shouldn’t have feelings or a sense of time, and they DEFINITELY shouldn’t be suicidal!” I finally lost it, who knew it would be so hard to reason with a teakettle.

“Teakettles don’t talk?” it asks me, confusion flooding its voice.

I take a deep breath, “No, you’re the only teakettle that I’ve ever met that can talk or do any of those other things,” I answer, slowly calming myself down this time.

“Oh.” It calmed down for a moment as if processing the information before I watched its eyes widen in fear. “Don’t tell anyone, please!! I’ve heard what they do to anomalies like me, I’ll get sent to some researching facility, or worse, become famous on YouTube! Oh! The horror! Please don’t put me on YouTube!” The teakettle sways back and forth in its terror, nearly sending itself over the edge of the counter, on accident this time.

“Calm down Tea, your secret is safe with me. How about you back yourself away from that ledge.”

It slowly backed away before turning to me, “Are you gonna put me back in the cupboard?”

What am I supposed to tell it? It must be awful in that cupboard all by itself, but what can I do with it, I don’t even like to drink tea! I study the kettle for a while and realize it’s actually kind of pretty. It has an almost rustic look to it. *Lightbulb* “I know what we can do with you!” I tell it.

“Really? What?!” it asks excitedly.

I clear off a spot on the counter in a corner. “I’ve been looking for something to put here, it’s too far out of the way to really keep something that I need to use, so it’s perfect for you!”

I grab a rag out of a drawer and wet it down. First I wipe off the counter, then I take Tea in my hands. I clean off all the dust until it looks as good as new, the little teakettle giggling the whole time. I carefully set it down in its new home. “There, now you don’t have to be in the dark, and, if you’re careful, you can talk to me when no — ” before I can finish my sentence, my husband walks into the kitchen.

“Who are you talking to, dear, the kitchen utensils?” he asks.

“No honey, just talking to myself, I get a little lonely without anyone to talk to.”

He pulls me into his arms and brushes a kiss across my lips, “Better?” He asks.

A giggle comes from behind me. It’s tea. I discreetly signal for her to be quiet before giving her a little wink. Boy, life might be a little more interesting in the future.

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