Gesture Average Grandstand
After I went to the laundrette our washing machine at home turned peculiar. The next time I used it, it span all my clothes together into one big sock. I threatened it with the scrapheap, told it it'd end up as the insides of a post-apocalyptic clown-car on some zoom-boom TV show with everyone laughing while it became smithereens. That night we left the back door open and it waddled out from under the counter, through the garden and into the alley. We later heard from the neighbours that it was trying to form a gang with all the homeless devices. But it was unsuccessful and in the morning I coaxed it back inside and apologised even though I hadn't done anything wrong. I fed it some bedsheets and it sloshed them around all day and started beeping just as I was going to sleep. I apologised again and said the going-to-the-laundrette thing was a one-time-only deal, I was desperate, a bit drunk maybe, it's not the kind of thing I usually do, ask anyone. And it just beeped and beeped and beeped. And I unplugged it and it began to screech. So I dragged it into the street and destroyed it with a sledgehammer.