The Thing in the Kitchen

I’m terrified of it. All its gurgling, churgling, chortling noises frighten me so. I can’t see what it is but it torments me every day, all day long. I can’t even leave my house for fear that it will spread. Nor will I attempt to go to the refrigerator to eat until I’m completely starving and at which time, only in make-shift body armor. I have no dishes left, well, no clean ones anyway. I can’t heat up foods on the stove or even use my microwave. What kind of monster is it that I have? You may call me insane, but it is my sink.

No, it isn’t in my sink contrary to what you may think. It is my sink! I won’t venture near that thing for more than a second or two.

It wasn’t always a problem, you know. When we first moved in here life was spectacular. My kitchen was spotless, sparklingly new and efficient in energy and space both. My wife, oh the meals she would whip up. She’d be banging away on the faux-marble counters putting together all varieties of culinary delight. The dual door fridge stood in its off-white glory with its beige trim calling attention to its splendor. It hummed peacefully all the while dispensing ice, food that was fresh and delicious. The wood grain cabinets stocked with delicate china and glass ware. Oh it was quite a sight - my wife hunched over that silver, oversized oven with its dual windows of clear pyrex – removing a royal feast of turkey or meat loaf. But then there was that sink; that brushed steel sink and its shiny new garbage disposal. It was nothing but twin basins of despair.

We didn’t use it often. We had no need for it. We had a state-of-the-art dishwasher. It handled most flotsam and food grit easily. Other pieces of large food were typically fed into the compost heap by the back fence in the yard. Obviously in cases where more delicate items needed washing, we utilized the sink. We even used the garbage disposal from time to time (especially when we were too lazy or it was too cold to go outside and toss leftovers in the compost). For the most part, though, the sink sat idle.

While it wasn’t obvious, there should’ve been some indications that all was not proper. There were occasions, witnessed by myself alone - unfortunately not by my wife – that should have provided forewarning to the onslaught of terror that overtook my kitchen.

One day while I rummaged around for batteries I noticed that the faucet handle (one of those chrome jobbies, vaguely L-shaped although at more of an acute angle than a typical L, and pointing downwards of course) was amiss. When I first entered the room it was pointing directly towards me when I was on the left end of the kitchen pawing through drawers. When I concluded my search on the right side of the kitchen, I could swear that the handle was still pointing towards me. But, silly fool, I played it off thinking nothing further of it.

Several months later the odd occurrences continued to manifest. I was washing wine glasses for a change from merlot to Chablis and I noticed the disposal growling to life. It was only for mere moments, but despite the running water I could swear I heard the distinct sound of grinding gears. But it was just for a second. I turned the water off and listened – nothing. I returned to my washing, think ‘ok, that’s odd, but I must’ve bumped the switch or something. Just a fluke.’ Several moments later, there it was again. I switched the faucet off one final time. Nothing. It was unquestionably bizarre, but once again I paid it little heed.

The next time though, a warning light in my subconscious lit up. I recalled something odd happening to me several days ago, maybe a week or two. I decided that perhaps our fairly new kitchen needed some handiwork. This time I heard the sound of running water coming from in the kitchen. I thought it odd so I trekked toward the kitchen, although by the time I got near the sound had ceased. I knew my wife was out running errands, so I assumed perhaps the faucet had a leaky gasket. I tore into the assemblage, unscrewed as many pipes, seals and gaskets as I could find. My search yielded nothing disparaging. I checked the disposal (making certain the power was off) and found nothing that was obviously faulty. So I sat back down on my plush recliner to watch some TV and lo and behold, the faucet was running again. Unfortunately from there it merely escalated.

I tried to explain to my wife that something eerie was afoot with the sink. She refused to believe me. Even after further anomalies, she still held firm that I was being ridiculous. We hired a plumber; I’m the first to admit I’m woefully inadequate when it comes to pipe based know-how. When she found nothing amiss, it was both assuaging and disquieting to my creeping dread – mostly disquieting. That silver bastard had to be malfunctioning or worse! I didn’t realize how right I was.

When the tables turned on me, it became tantamount to realize the gravity of the situation. The realization was none other than our sink was somehow evil. The moment of truth came during an otherwise pleasant evening. My wife and I discussed in depth what she felt was an ‘increasing attachment’ to the sink (I believe obsession may have even crept into conversation once or twice). I curtailed my sinking suspicions for the sake of the evening, merely warning her that all was not right in our ultra-modern kitchen. We agreed that we would call the plumbers as soon as possible and have them replace the sink. Sadly that was the positive omega of the evening. We continued enjoying our Japanese takeout (I admit to being very wary about leaving my wife alone in the kitchen, hence I accompanied her. She said I was making her nervous, so we opted for takeout). After dinner I cleared the plates, taking them cautiously to the sink for a rinse. I may have been facing my fears a bit on this one. I began rinsing, still aware of a sinking presence, when I felt a tug.

All at once the disposal groaned to life snatching my overhanging tie in its vile clutches. I scrambled for the switch mere inches away on the wall only to find that it was all ready in the off position. I gathered as much of my tie as I could and wrenched at it. My effort was in vein. Repositioning myself a second time I pulled and this time it gave. The sink was toying with me.

Sadly my wife heard little of my desperate, gurgling struggle having retreated to the living room for post-dinner television. I tried to explain my predicament, but somehow the beast had allowed me to leave unscathed. My tie wasn’t even damp. She refused to hear any further of my ‘lunacy’ and we got into a heated argument. Unfortunately many things were said in moments lost too quickly to review. Many things I regret dearly. I refused removal of the sink until she was convinced of its beastly nature and I was vindicated. She told me that unless it was removed immediately, she would remove herself, immediately. I pled wither her to come with me to see it. To stare into its menace, to believe me, and its countenance would be no more. But she wouldn’t listen. I could only watch in horror as she locked the bedroom door to pack travel bags. She just wouldn’t listen. Perhaps she couldn’t conceive…or perhaps. No, the though was too hideous to contemplate.

As she left, I attempted to gain her support once more. I told her that if she came with me, I would personally disassemble the monster and she could stay here. She winced but gave me one more opportunity.

I crept towards the dank kitchen, bathed only in streetlight. As I leered in the doorway, it growled at me sending waves of its menace at us. My spine shivered palpably. It feigned supremacy, but I knew it was far more than that. That sink intended to destroy me – to extinguish my candle. Despite displaying its guile before, I knew in my heart that it would succeed this time. Its tendrils were growing in power and influence. I didn’t know how, being that humans are infinitely cleverer than machines, but I also knew that this was no machine. It was a techno-demon, plain and simple.

I tried to get my wife to listen, but I didn’t know how to convince her of the true danger. In the end what choice did I have but to let her leave? It was the safest stratagem. Even if the monster didn’t kill me, its bloodlust may have focused itself on her, her not being as wary as I. Its cunning rage didn’t extend beyond the kitchen yet, but for how long? I knew that I alone was destined to keep watch – somehow I could formulate a plan to destroy it.

So that brings us back to the present. I can feel its bastard tentacles squeezing, tightening its grasp on the house. The kitchen is nearly completely ensconced by its evil. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to gather food from the cupboards or the refrigerator.

My wife won’t call me anymore. She says I frighten her. She no longer resides at the same motel she first went to and if she’s with her parents or her sister, neither will say. Originally she had the neighbors check on me every now and then, but I warned them away. It senses their fear and continues to thrive. I don’t know how I’ll get food if the creature cuts me off from the kitchen. Perhaps I could reacquaint myself with the neighbors if only to have them drop food on my doorstep. Strange people also stop by from time to time and I fear that they’ve come to aid the beast. They ask me odd questions. I can’t leave this place until I figure out its weakness. I’ve lost everything – my wife, my job, my dignity and my security. This may be some sort of test. I don’t know. But I know this, I can’t falter. I must fend off its advances or, well, the situation would be grim.

I no longer sleep well, not any more. When I do I can sense it skulking into my dreams. I wake up screaming. I can’t let it get to me, but it’s made several more attempts on my life. I won’t delve into its insidious plots but it always attacks when I try to procure food. It may be too powerful. I don’t know ho much longer I can hold out. But I will do my damnedest! This is my crusade! This is my trial. The creature is strong, but I will prevail. No sink shall ever defeat humanity! Let it torment me with its gurgles (please send food) and growls around the corner, but I will be victorious!