Wednesday, April 26, 2006
The blanket balled itself out of the wicker basket, then shot upwards, confronting Carl. "You're not washing me with that lot!" it said.
Carl backed away for a better look at the woolen spread which had extended itself tautly, advancing deep into his personal space, a wall before him. He'd never seen a blanket with a face before, and naturally it made him nervous.
"Now take it easy and - get back in the basket - I don't want any trouble -" he stated in a controlled calm, but a tentative stutter betrayed his uneasiness.
"Never! You think because we've slept in the same bed all week you can do anything you like with me. Ha!" and the blanket twirled itself into a thick noose, swinging like a pendulum near his neck.
Carl's eyes darted frantically while he tried a new approach: "Look, there are some nice designer jeans in the basket, a Tommy Hilfiger shirt, some cashmere socks. You'll all be together, tumbling in and out of each other, warm fabric brushing your cheek. Isn't that something?"
"I'll shrink!" the blanket screamed, whipping around his head from ear to ear. "Those buttons on the jeans always smack me in the face!" The blanket now fixed its stare ominously in his direction. "Murderer!" it shouted. Carl wanted to leave the washroom, but the blanket swung around each time, blocking his retreat. He saw that it was edging him into a corner.
"Look," he said, both hands between him and the blanket, hoping to ward it off, "I'll do anything you want, just please stay away from me." Cold, malevolent eyes glared back at him. "Go back to the basket and I won't wash you," he blurted optimistically. But the blanket hung impassively in a half-circle around him. It had him maneuvered into the corner. At any moment it could wrap itself around his head and smother him. "Please, I'll put you in a nice cedar chest with lots of moth balls. I'll spread you out on an antique sofa. I'll stop sleeping in the nude. I'll have you dry cleaned. I'll-"
"Did you say dry cleaned?"
"And hand pressed."
"All right. It's a deal," it said, and flopped down over his arm. "Let's go."