I bring with me a great tale of an epic adventure that will last the centuries and fix itself with a permanent stamp upon all those who read it, never able to forget. (Well not really) anyways...
The battle of the kitchen sink was long and arduous, however the home-brand (they aren't as cheap as they seem sometimes) soap suds and metal scrourers (I had to use two, the first died of anxiety and scourer reduction) prevailed in the end, but victory came at a price.....
Wounds were received on both sides of the treacherous war, a brave scourer was carried from the battlefield unable to go on and too fight another day, but he does not stand alone. A pinkie finger obtained mortal injuries from the blade of a coffee tin whilst bravely fighting for the health of all in the household, but the cost was far greater for the opposing side.....
The dishes lost a life that night. The offending coffee tin had been thrust into the bin without mercy to linger in a festering pit of filth until garbage day arrives and it will be crushed unrelentingly into a pile of metal scraps to be reused as; we can only hope something less dangerous....
Back at the medical zone the valiant finger received treatment for its wounds through the steady-handed care of a young physician (a younger brother, more adept in the skill of healing than I). It's wounds sealed and bandaged the intrepid finger returned to the ensuing battle to continue on; fighting against the vulgar fermenting chicken soup pots. (with a pungent smell of putrid ever weakening the hero.) Unwaveringly it fought on until the last shred of filth had been vanquished and the land of the kitchen was free of the constant constricting grasp of the dirty dishes.
I leave you now to reflect upon the heroic acts played out this night and the grief for the sacrifices made to come to this end.
COFFEE TIN: MAY HE REST IN PEACE.
