The poor coffee pot without a filter

It was a night of rain. The drops fell thunderously on the roof, and the lightning accompanied the unleashed storm. In the kitchen, an innocent coffee pot was asleep, detached from all reality.

She was beautiful, with a curvaceous and sensual body made of black plastic and a precious crystal vase that complimented her. Everyone loved the coffee pot because it provided them with the delicious nectar it produced from its bowels. The coffee maker felt unique and irreplaceable, with that innate talent to make the most delectable coffee in the world.

That night of intense rain and out of the darkness, the coffee maker felt a cold hand running over her polycarbonate body. The darkness did not let the coffee pot see who it was. The utensil felt a cold hand inside it, and then a voice heard, “Mom, you forgot to throw away the filter.”

“Put another one in if you're going to make coffee!” The mother shouted from the room.

The coffee pot felt that icy hand and then nothing. The machine heard the voice again, “Mom, we're out of filters.”

“Leave that there and go back to your room. Then we'll see what to do.”

“What to do? That didn't sound good at all.” The worried machine thought about its fate the next day.

The night was ending, and the poor coffee maker's mind was still wandering between hypothetical realities created in its imagination. The poor coffee maker's sleep had been interrupted without any contemplation. Now, it was her and the rain, which fell incessantly in an almost eternal cycle in that space of time.

She tried to continue sleeping, but it was impossible. A storm, not of rain but of emotions, overcame her. From the moment she arrived at that house, she thought herself irreplaceable. Now, for the coffee maker, nothing made sense, and she was waiting for the grim end that could come with the dawn of a new day.

The high-pitched and low-pitched voices filled the kitchen with life, bustle, and hurried pleas to begin the imposed routine. The mother took the coffee pot and saw that the filter was missing. “Forget that this coffee pot is without a filter,” she thought, then tucked the pot into a cabinet.

The poor coffee maker found herself in that dark, cold, and horrible place. Fear came over her as she heard a cough. The machine gathered its courage and asked, “Who's there?”

“I'm the mixer, cof, cof.” A dry, raspy cough expelled the machine.

“What are you doing here, whisk?” the coffee maker asked with great curiosity.

“My accessories were damaged, and others were lost. The mother threw me into this darkness. Cof, cof.” A hint of sadness was noticeable in its words.

“Since when are you here.” The coffee pot fumbled with its cord to the mixer.

“I have no idea, but the last time I saw the light, there was some kind of party, with green, white, red decorations and lights flashing all the time. After that, I ended up here.”

“That's terrible.” The coffee maker empathized with the mixer.

“Many have ended up here, and I have watched some of them leave and never seen them again.”

“No way!” The coffee maker exclaimed in horror.

“I hope it doesn't happen to you or me. Everything is uncertain here. I'm sorry.”

“We must do something. We can't end up like this.” The coffee pot urged the mixer.

At this moment, the utensils heard noises in the kitchen. The doors opened and closed, a bright light invaded the dark space, and the mixer was trapped and only said, “It was nice to meet you, see you never.”

Darkness invaded the place again, and the poor coffee maker was terrified. She thought about escaping, but she didn't know how. She moved everywhere, but there was no way out. After a moment, the cabinet opened again, and the mixer felt the hand grabbing it. With its cable, it offered resistance by taking hold of the drain pipe.

“What's wrong with this coffee maker?” The girl struggled to pull the coffee machine out. “Mom, I can't get the coffee maker out.”

The mother arrived and looked closely. “The cord is tangled with the pipe.” She pulled the coffee maker out.

“That's the end of me, goodbye cruel world. Noooo...” The machine closed its eyes.

“Look, daughter, it's ready to make more coffee. I bought filters. Haha.” The mother was taking out the jug with the delicious freshly made coffee.

The coffee maker opened its eyes and breathed calmly, and then the machine saw the mixer with new accessories on the other side of the kitchen. The daughter was beating some eggs. The mixer and the coffee maker looked at each other and then painted a few smiles.