400 Words Parable

“The washer’s up on the roof and we can’t get it down until we get the television out of the house.” Daisy said on the front lawn. Her hair was frayed and fluttering about her head like flies fluttering around a pig’s ass. She had her hands tucked underneath her armpits, sweat rolling down her temples. She looked like she was on the verge of crying.
“How’d the washer get up there?” Timothy asked. His cigarette hung, completely forgotten, in his mouth. Up on the rooftop, the Maytag washing machine spewed a continuous stream of sudsy water down the side of the house, washing away the rosebushes and the freshly mown lawn before that. The peach colored paint from that side of the house was being washed away as well, mixing with the swirling mud below. All the windows had been broken out of their frames and had been overgrown creeping ivy and jungle vines. There were bullet holes and scorch marks on the walls that hadn’t been soaked by the washer or painted a sickly shade of green.
“She got up there on her own.” Daisy said, throwing up her arms in frustration. “We got to get the damn television out of the damn house.”
“The washer’s a She?” Timothy asked, the cigarette drooping lower and lower in the corner of his mouth. Soon it’d feel from his mouth and into the gathering water. A single tear spilled down her cheek and Timothy walked forward, taking her in his arms.
“Why do we need to get the television out of the house?” Timothy asked, moving his thumb along the sweat-slicked flesh at the back of her neck.
“Because she won’t forgive him…”
“The television’s a him?” Timothy asked, interrupting her.
“Yes. He’s a he and we need to get him out of the house. She won’t come down with him in the house.”
“Forgive him for what?” Timothy asked.
“He was running around with the mice in the walls. He was whispering sweet-nothings in the blender’s ear. He went out dancing with the toaster, the refrigerator and vacuum cleaner. All behind her back and when she found out, she felt like such a fool.”
“None of that makes sense.” Timothy said with a nervous smile.
“You’re still on making sense? Oh, Timothy.” She clasped him about the face and then placed a single kiss on his mouth.

The End