First of all, I need to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Kid at Heart272, Googley, Apleeeeee, Lalala, Anonymous, and RuffandTumble226, all of your comments mean so much to me, so much I can not even describe it. I read each one, and it really brightens up my day.
Second, as weird as this is, I have a question I've been wondering. If the Appliances somehow got their cords on a copy of SBURB, what do you think their god tiers would be?
I think that Toaster would be the Space Player, and Radio the Time Player, and maybe Kirby or AC could be a Prince of Blood? (Possibly blood becomes watts or some other appliance-themed aspect in their session.) Other than that I have no idea. What do you think? If you have an idea, leave it in a review, please.
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Chapter 4: You Can Stand Under My Umbrella
Kirby had only been waiting outside for fifteen minutes, and already his circuits were crawling like the bugs that escaped his approach. He was a vacuum cleaner, a domestic invention for the house, not meant to be outside in the filthy mess they called the city. To say he was out of his element was an understatement. Those buffoons better not ask me to do this again.
He was especially not meant to be hiding in a dark alley with nothing but dumpsters and overflowing black trash bags to keep him company.
It was the only place he knew humans wouldn't see him as they went to the movie. How did Radio and AC talk me into this? This is insane! He froze up as a gust of wind blew past and jostled one of the trash bags, almost moving enough to fall on him.
The thought of all the messy human filth falling onto him was enough to make him sick. Looking around, he saw all the trash scattered about. He saw the dirt on the concrete ground so much tougher than the carpet he was used to. He could feel the germs crawling on his chrome, making their home in any cracks. No amount of shivering could shake them off.
He could only imagine what would happen if one of the trash bags above him burst open, with all the grime and toxins lurking about...
...One expulsion of his bag later, he decided he had to leave. He ached for the cabin, master-less and all, but he knew he could not leave Radio and Miss Didi behind. It would be a sin to make them trudge through this suburban jungle at their tiny size.
Still, Kirby knew that if he did not leave the alley soon, he was going to have a full-on panic attack. He hated dust, filth, anything of that sort lying around. The dust bunnies at home were enough to set him off so that he still vacuumed without a human around.
He decided that if he expected to make it until the movie's end, he was going to need somewhere indoors to hide. The movie theater itself was not an option, as he could easily see the people working the concession stand. If he just went rolling in there like a living creature, he'd be as good as stolen. Or worse, dissected.
As Kirby assessed the situation, he felt something roll down his nose. Great, I'm so nervous I'm sweating. The logic of why that was impossible soon dawned on him, and his brow furrowed in annoyance. Being outside is driving me insane. This date had better work out.
Something hit him on the head. It was cold and wet as dripped across his forehead, like… water.
He looked up to the sky, and sure enough, gray clouds had formed. Another drop landed in his eye, something he was sure would hurt if his eyes were made of organic flesh.
The water did not hurt him yet, but he knew it would. Soon enough, if he did not find shelter, it would rust him until he was no better than the trash laying in the alley. That thought was enough to raise a pounding within him. An urge to escape, a tinge of fear.
It was as if the world was shifting around him. The poor vacuum almost lost his balance maneuvering out of the alley. He needed to find shelter, and find it fast.
A quick glance of King Street was anything but fruitful. Humans filled every shop, going about their daily lives. Drinking coffee at the Cafe, playing games at the arcade, and enjoying an early dinner at the fancy restaurant. Maybe if he were human these things would have interested him, but now, all he could think about was getting out of the storm before it got any worse.
No cars were coming, so he dashed to the other side of the street, and took refuge under the candy cane-striped curtain suspended above a small barber's shop door.
He hoped no one inside noticed him, and if they did they might assume he was always there. The human mind was, thankfully, susceptible to easy tricks like that. Still, Kirby knew he did not have much time before someone came and stole him.
He prayed that he could return to the cabin, not even caring about winning the stupid bet at this point. He hoped maybe Miss Didi would ditch Radio so he could come out early and they could head home. No, it will be good to get some positivity around the cabin. It will pay off… it will pay off…
In the midst of his mantra, he saw another shop in the corner of his eye. Eddy's Used Vacuums. Perfect. If I don't have a tag, they won't try to buy me. The water drops grew thicker and heavier, but the water gave Kirby an extra glide. He managed to enter the shop before getting too wet.
No humans appeared to be inside, though the door was unlocked. The bright lights on the ceiling indicated it was open, so he had to act quick.
He took his place besides a couple of brand new Dysons. Biting his cord, he realized he was the oldest model by far. He would stick out amongst the group. Until he realized that would be another layer of protection. Who would want an old sucker like me?
"Hey, what are you doing here? Get out of our shop, you old geezer!" He was torn from his thoughts by a familiar voice. It had a low guttural rumble he recognized… like his own.
This vacuum didn't sound exactly like him, but enough they could easily pass as 'cousins,' like humans would say. At first, Kirby even thought it was his conscience speaking. He stumbled over his words for a few moments, almost blushing in shame. "Look, I need to get out of the storm. I'll be out in an hour or so."
The blue, shiny Dyson rolled his eyes. "Just don't expect anyone to come buying you."
"Yeah! I wouldn't touch that chrome for a million filters!" A female vacuum joined in with her deep contralto voice like an opera singer. An opera singer who never learned to be polite as an assembly line newbie. "Who was your owner? King Tut? Alexander the Great?"
He groaned, brow lowering. "Fine, I'll leave, alright? Not like I don't get enough of this at home. Do you have an umbrella around?"
The Dyson's eyes widened. "Wait, you're not serious, right? We were just joking!"
"Don't go! We were just getting to know you," called a shop-vac on the other side of the room.
Kirby rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that shtick. I'm outta here!"
A quick lap around the room provided Kirby with a large enough umbrella to be safe outside. Wrapping it around his cord, he managed to escape the store just before its owners returned.
Whew, lucky break. For the first time in his life, he was happy to be standing outside in the rain. It seemed to be fear of the humans inside… but those other vacuums…
He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Radios were like muses, always so lively, inspiring, and colorful. They kept conversations flowing, and filled everyone's lives with song and cheer.
You couldn't help but smile in their presence. Kirby always joked to himself how Radio did have a mouth, and that was everyone's grin when he burst out with the latest hit. Even if he did not want to admit he enjoyed them.
Lamps were as bright as Radios were energetic. Blankets showered everyone in love, even if they got nothing in return. Toasters were warm to everyone they met, and you could always see the effect like a reflection on their surface.
Yet, all that seemed to make Vacuums special was being complete dirtbags. They never helped anyone with anything except clearing dust bunnies.
No, I'm here waiting for the little chatterboxes. That counts as something, right?
The rain just outside his umbrella's radius matched his mood. The sound of it falling would be a comfort, if only he was back home. Only an hour or so left, big guy. You can do this.
He was not so sure about that.
