MASH

A claw, nah, throw it back in the box, this job requires a mash, ah here it is, feels good in the hand, needs to be used, you can't pick up a mash hammer and not want to use it, to break something.

“...a stupid, lazy, little b*****d.” 

Who the f**k does that old...what suits; crone, witch, hag, all and any of those, ach I'll just stick to bag, that's my very favourite, " the Laundry Bag." 

“...stupid...” That would be funny if it wasn't tragic;  me, a mind that whirs and clicks like the guts of a finely tuned Swiss watch, an intellect capable of absorbing complicated theorems from all fonts of wisdom and her, a slug iron for a brain that overheats with the shifting of clothes from washers to dryers or whatever the f**k it is they do down there. 

“...lazy...” Surely a jest, no, more a glib taunt, but the insults of fools fall on fallow ground. 

“...little...”Meaning small, tiny, but I stand a foot, nay more, above her. Maybe she means to belittle me. Wee folk do that, don't they; it's a psychological aberration - the overbearing, bullying midget. Cowardly though, like all cruel gossips but I possess the tuning fork hearing of youth.  I heard you, Baggyface. 

“...b*****d...” My favourite word and coming from the foul mouth of a crabbit-faced b*****d - oh irony I love you, you're my second - with attitude. Who ever heard of a fifty year old woman chewing gum? How long do you want to be a Hairy for? 


It wasn't even me! I never get reckless with wine, Sparky done a bolt didn't he, but before you could say 'spin cycle' there she was, frothing up just fine, temperature rising, right up to f*****g boil wash. 

What me? Oh no Bagwash, not me, I'm not the skivvy round here, besides I might get careless with them there shards, my senses are dulled, you don't want blood on my hands, do you? 

My name will be mud, not my name, my description ...you know the one, the skinny one with blue hair, and it's not just drink if you ask me...and there will be plenty, asking. 

Enjoy it Baggy, go on enjoy yourself, put me through the wringer while you can because here comes the flood.