Short Stories

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Tea Kettle and Clothes Line

Tea Kettle and Clothes Line were good friends. It wasn’t always that way. From the start, Clothes Line couldn’t stand Tea Kettle’s high pitch whistle and Tea Kettle couldn’t stand the way Clothes Line got hooked into things. Just rounding a corner, one of Clothes Line's wobbly lines would catch on something and he’d get all tangled and mangled up. Mainly, they avoided each other until one day they got put in Irritating Prison. By the time they were released, they were almost civil to each other and walked down the street back to their home with Mrs. Bloomfield. She was waiting their arrival so she could have her monthly servants tea party in her backyard garden with her lush Japanese landscape accented by pink flamingos (not the plastic kind).

Mrs. Bloomfield just needed to air dry her favorite Muu Muus and start the burner to make a fresh brew of gourmet apple-of-my-eye spiced tea brought at the Porcelain Cup on the corner of Simple and Profound.

On their way home, Tea Kettle spied a stray birch branch a few paces in front of them and let out a primal high pitch scream. That would’ve been considered a form of opera in her native land of Saucer Land, but in the back roads of a midwest town, it was of no aesthetic value. It just made Clothes Line stop and snap his ears shut with his surplus clothes pins. Tea Kettle proceeded to point out the dangerously spiky branch with plenty of ghastly hooks, when Clothes line realized the danger he missed out on, he came to value Tea Kettle as beneficial, but not necessarily from an artistic angle. They continued to take the straight route home with just a half a day before Mrs. Bloomfield’s extravagant garden party.

Mrs. Bloomfield was known for her hospitality and her homemade egg rolls that made the town's resident's drool like Pavlov’s dogs when they heard Tea Kettle’s screech announcing the festivity. Clothes line was purposely, this time, decorated with paper lanterns and looking a part of the scene when the guests arrived as the sky began to darken. Mrs. Bloomfield lit the lanterns which reflected off of Tea Kettle’s recently polished copper. As usual, Mrs. Bloom dazzled her friends with her tea etiquette, decorative origami napkins (in the shape of squirrels), profound insights, and unpredictable humor.

Some of her more famous guests included Chip the Chipmunk, Moldy the Mole, and Solomon the Squirrel. She hired the Cricket Orchestra to play “Muskrat Love” and other rodent favorites to start the party.

Little did the guests know that Tea Kettle was Mrs. Bloomfield's undercover security guard (kind of odd for a ex-con wouldn’t you say?). Tea Kettle watched over Mrs. Bloomfield’s rare art collection which included one Edward Munch painting, but other than that, the rest were mostly unknown, but heart-felt expressive pieces that captured her heart - her peculiar heart - in some way.

Little did Mrs. Bloomfield’s guest know just how special Clothes Line was to her among all the landscaping in her garden. He was placed on the side of a hill where a southern wind would predictably roll by the same time each day. With a warm breath, the wind kept her unique, boutique collection of clothes from needing ironing and starching. Mrs. Bloomfield was no clothes horse, but she did have an eye for beauty and quality which kept her radiantly intriguing.

As the party winded down, the rats stayed late to clean up the trash. All that was left was three voices. And to this night as in every night, as if they were forced to watch re-runs of the Walton’s every night while in prison, you could hear them say “Good night Clothes Line.” and then “Good night Tea Kettle.” without a speck of sarcasm. Then Mrs. Bloom would tuck Tea Kettle after his bath into the cupboard with the shiny aluminum pots and pans and Clothes line would ponder deep thoughts in the moonlight. Eventually, he became a famous poet. His most famous poem being “How Could You Mistake Me for a Telephone Line?” which is a beloved piece among the fine feather crowd which lives is the tree houses in Mrs. Bloomfield's garden. Another one you may have heard of is “Don’t Throw Stones at Mrs. Bloomfield's Green House”. It is more of a philosophical essay and received many honors.

H. Stone © 2005

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