Never Ignore a Faithful Servant

This is the one

word count: 459

    It lurked on the kitchen counter, watching, waiting.  The bottle opener pretended not to be observing me, but I know better.  It is waiting for the next opportunity to drive a liquid nail into my coffin.  It is out to destroy me, if not outright kill me.  The bottle opener may be in cahoots with that Lucky Labrador Brewing Company pint glass I picked up last summer, but I can’t prove it.  The two of them together have it in for me, I am sure of it.

    Every time I turn my back that bottle opener changes position, moving closer and closer.  I don’t really know why.  I had never done anything to it.  Well, I had started using that hula girl opener I received for Christmas.

    That is a fun opener.  It requires placing your thumb on her breasts when opening a bottle.  I usually give her an extra rub or two when using her, but would that really cause my previous, loyal bottle opener to come after me?  While contemplating the effects of the hula girl’s arrival I had another quaff of the Stone India Pale Ale I was having.  I was staring morosely into the fire when I heard the clink of metal on tile and quickly looked to the counter; the chromed opener was again closer.  I burrowed deeper into the chair I was sitting in.

    My wife was upstairs, I was alone downstairs, with the murderous opener.  How could I convince her that the opener was out to get me?  She was already concerned about my ‘health’, if I mentioned the conniving opener she would think I was nuts. 

    Whoosh clink, rattle clank, clink.  I apprehensively looked up.  There, on the counter was the opener, a bottle cap rolling, and a newly opened IPA.  It had done it again.  Another IPA waited, freshly opened, I would have to drink it.  Good ale could not go to waste.  The opener was trying to pickle my liver, kill me with alcohol.  I warily approached the counter staying as far from the opener as possible.  I calmed my trembling hand and poured the fresh IPA into my Lucky Lab glass. 

    I sat staring into the fire; how was I to survive this onslaught of menace?  I heard the creak of the one loose stair, my wife was approaching.  I looked up hoping to find solace in her eyes. 

    She looked at me in disgust, “Another beer?  Don’t you think you have had enough for tonight?” 

    “I swear honey, it was the old bottle opener, it opened it when I wasn’t looking, please babe, please don’t leave me alone with it.”

    She turned on her heel and left the room, without answering.

    Another clink sounded from the counter.

word count: 459