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A 100-word flash fiction

I simply hate it when they don’t lubricate my crevices.

Without oil, I squeak like a skewered pig. It takes only a few seconds but they never get round to doing it.

Then there are those who don’t wash their hands. They blow slime or dig their noses and grasp and give me a twist. Jeez, how do you like covered in rotten cheese?

When they leave me dry, wasps build nests and whelp disgusting pests. My key hole is not a nursey, don’t you know.

Treat me well, and dammit DON’T slam the door!

Now, come polish the knob!

*** Copyright @ Eric Alagan, 2017 ***