The Great Fast-Boil Swindle

Early morning, first job, get the kettle on. It’s one of those swanky fast-boil ones. 

Sorted. Coffee will be a thing, very soon. It needs to be. I survive the first part of any day on caffeine alone. 

So, I waited. 

The kettle, gurgled and fizzed. 
I waited some more. 
The kettle gurgled and burbled. 

“C’mon, you bugger,” I moaned. 
“Sod off, I’ll boil when I feel like it.”

I looked. The kettle stared back. And not like the friendly kitchen device I thought it was. 

“What do you mean? That is literally your job!”
“So? Do you like people telling you to hurry up?”

I weighed that one up for a moment. And had to grudgingly accept it had a point. 

“Well, yeah…”
“Exactly. So, I’ll boil when I feel like the water is just right.”

What? I wasn’t having that.

“You’re a kettle. So, boil the water. It’s not complicated!”
“How would you know? I don’t see you boiling anything.”

Meanwhile, the gurgling and burbling seemed to have slowed down. 

My caffeine itch was not being scratched. 

“Er, are you going to boil today, or what?”
“Maybe not. I’m thinking of unionising.”
“Don’t be daft! Kettles don’t have unions…”
“Wrong. The Boiling Organisation of Industrial Labourers or B.O.I.L for short, actually exists.”

Bloody hell, this was getting silly. 

“Look, I just need hot water for my coffee. My day isn’t right until that happens.”

Silence.

Perhaps a slight increase in burbling activity. 

Mary came into the kitchen. She looked at me and then the kettle. 
“Have you been rude to the kettle again?”
“No, not especially…”

The kettle clicked off without boiling. 

“Well, maybe a bit.”

The kettle started up again. Mary sighed. 

“Just let things be. You’ll never learn will you?”

I stayed quiet. I’ve learned that, at least. And glanced at the kettle. It was smirking. I’m sure of it.