By Colt Bayless
Ting. Clang. Ting.
“Sharpy! Wedge! Pincer!” yelled Albert.
It was Monday morning and the Hazel family had just left the house. A spoon alone and unused in its slot nudged and smacked the silverware drawer’s dividers.
“What is it, Albert?” Sharpy replied.
“I was wondering,” said the spoon, “could one of you join my slot?”
Albert was a very lonely spoon, for all of his brothers and sister were in different drawers or scattered about the kitchen. They were used more often than he was, leaving him by himself and feeling isolated with no one but Pincer, Sharpy, and Wedge to talk to.
“Albert,” Pincer commented dryly, “not one of us can come over to your slot without the Hazel family moving us.”
This was true enough, and it put a damper on any further discussion. The pieces of silverware fell silent once more. Albert the spoon sighed regretfully and began to dose. He dreamed of not being lonely, of having some company. In his dreams, his brothers and sisters, the other spoons, were nearby and their soft conversing settled Albert’s mind so pleasantly that he did not hear the sound of people entering the house.
He was jarred awake by the light and commotion of the silverware drawer being opened suddenly. Standing over the silverware dividers and peering down at the cutlery were none other than the young Hazel sisters. Albert, Sharpy, Wedge, and Pincer all froze. Albert was picked up by one of the two girls. The other girl grabbed Pincer and shut the drawer.
“Umm… Mom… Dad… how many forks and spoons do we need?” the two sisters asked their parents.
Pincer had just been used the night before. He tried to get a glimpse of Albert but failed. They couldn’t talk to one another, for they would sound like Ting. Clang. Ting. Pincer was set on the round table in the dining room and waited for Albert to arrive beside him, but the girl carrying him did not bring him over to the napkin on which Pincer lay. The fork watched first in confusion as Albert was inserted in the dish washer, and then in horror as the spoon was taken to a place from which no piece of silverware had ever returned. Albert was in the garbage!
About the author:
(Colt Bayless, 2014)