When I saw the writing assignment “monologue of a household tool”, I knew this assignment was meant for me. There wasn’t a day that went by when I was growing up that my father didn’t have one of us messing with some sort of tool around the house. I can’t say I am too upset about his “always something to do” kind of mentality, because I am now able to do much more than the average bear. Some of my friends can’t even hammer a nail (not exaggerating). See if you can figure this out:
I sit in the closet all day long, waiting for my time to shine. It’s dark in here. I rarely ever see the light of day. I wonder if my owners even know I am here? There are times when I run all over the whole house, rolling back and forth, back and forth. I love every minute of it. It is precisely what I was made for. Oh! The door just opened, is it my time? I’m about to show my owner what I’m made of! I’m gonna give it everything I’ve got! His hand is coming in! Wait for it, wait for it. False alarm. He was reaching for the boy’s jacket. “Bye, Michael. Have a great day at school buddy!” I heard him shout to the boy as he ran toward the bus stop. Does that mean he has the day off? Maybe I will get my shot! The door opens back up! Yes! Cleaning time. For some reason these people have the music on. I guess it goes with the whole cleaning thing. Personally, I like to hear the sound of my engine roar! He’s stretching out my cord. Ah, yes. This is the life.