Cruel Inventions - Part 1

Whenever I come across a humdrum household object that has been needlessly 'updated' in order to make it more 'interesting', I become utterly consumed with the idea of causing the inventor's untimely death - with the very object that they have so foolishly destroyed.

I once had the pleasure of owning a pyramidine cheese grater (most are oblong or cylindrical, for those readers who have their cheese grated for them by servants). 'Cool!', I hear you say.

No. It is most definitely not cool. It is not cool to destroy a useful object in order to serve the whims of fashion. There is a reason that graters are oblong or cylindrical: i.e. to prevent cheese from becoming stuck in the top of the grater. As I think of the impending, violent confrontation with the black-clad, turtleneck-wearing grater updater, catharsis rushes through me.

*

SCENE: A late 19th-century inner-city warehouse, converted into a trendy clutch of studios. Aforementioned black-clad designer sits in original 1960s egg chair at a lustrous Nicholas Datner redgum table. He is talking on his mobile phone. It is, of course, an iPhone. You are supposed to hate him.

DESIGNER: ...And so I said to her - 'Wheatgrass is amazing for your Chakras.' Well, I have to rush, Pantene - I have an appointment with my Iridologist. What's that? No - the cat's still at the acupuncturist. Yes, he's doing quite well. I really do believe that animals respond best to non-invasive techniques.

(THE massive Victorian-era wooden door is forcefully kicked open to reveal a lone figure standing silhouetted against the windswept street. His expression is not visible under his low-brimmed hat. He coolly smokes a cigarillo. The street lights halo the smoke around his head. He looks angrily at the floor, as if to repress some violent inner torment. Losing composure, he advances to the table. His metal heels clink eerily on the floorboards; his poncho swishes behind him like a tattered victory flag.)

DESIGNER: Uh - can I help you?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: That's for you to decide. You most certainly have not helped me in the past.

DESIGNER: Who...are you?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: I am the angel of vengeance. I speak for household objects that have no voice.

(Mysterious figure unsheaths glittering object from his utility belt.)

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE (Holding grater aloft): And - this? What is this?

DESIGNER: I-I-I-I-it's a grater.

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE (in low, guttural whisper not unlike Batman's): That's what it said on the label. What's wrong with this picture?

DESIGNER: I don't -

MF: It. Doesn't. Grate.

DESIGNER: But it's -

MF: Ok. It grates. All right. But there's a problem.

DESIGNER: I don't underst-

MF: BRING ME A BLOCK OF CHEESE. You do have cheese here, dontya? Hmm?

TERRIFIED DESIGNER: Y-y-yes. (Departs, and re-emerges with CHEESE).

MF: Grate it.

DESIGNER: But I've never-

MF: That's right. You've never grated cheese in your life. Grate it. Grate it. Grate it.

DESIGNER: Ok, ok, I'm grating! (He GRATES).

MF: Enough. Pick up the grater and remove the cheese.

DESIGNER (Shaking and tapping grater: It's not working, sir.

MF: That's because you destroyed something beautiful when you made that grater. (Background music swells: Barber's Adagio for Strings.)

DESIGNER: I had no idea.

MF: You have become death, the destroyer of graters. You took something perfect and you crushed it. And now: it's time to get to know Mr Pyramidine grater just a little better.

FADE TO BLACK. SOUND REMAINS:

DESIGNER: What are you doing? Stop - ouch! He's grating me! He's grating me!

MF: The only thing that's grating here is your hubris.

END