Dining Room Table

The spoon heard the door open and froze. He'd endured days of wandering the table uselessly, collecting his thoughts. But during the hours that the host sat staring at him, he felt enslaved, unable to even twitch. Moving in the presence of humans was strictly forbidden, though none seemed to know why. He watched as the host walked over to the table and sat a small box down. His curiosity peaked. The host tore away the box and the packaging as though he couldn't breathe until it was opened. Inside was a small plate. He felt an explosion of joy at the thought of some company followed by a tinge of guilt at rejoicing even though he knew that yet another would be in his exact same situation soon. The host wiped the wrapping off the table with the back of his hand and sat the plate next to the spoon.

He sat silently, staring at what he'd gathered so far. Just a spoon and a tea saucer.
"Speak to me", he whispered, his voice barely auditory. They said nothing, and he knew that if he were to catch them speaking or moving, they'd need more motivation than just one other item with which to interact. After what seemed an eternity he stood. He felt tired and weak, and for the first time recognized that he hadn't eaten or slept in days. But he couldn't stop now. He walked out of the room, disregarding the litter on the floor. Perhaps he'd stop and eat at a restaurant on his search. Maybe he could slip a knife or fork into his pocket and walk out with it.

He heard the rustling of the host putting his coat back on, and then the door again. He waited a few minutes just to make sure he was really gone, then slide closer to the plate and introduced himself. "I've never seen such a small plate", he remarked.

The saucer had never expected to be given to anyone as a gift, but here it was, sitting on a table in a new home while the host exited the room. The host's cousin had bought it from Macy's so that he would be able to use his 'Get $10 off if you spend over $50' coupon in addition to his main purchase, which was something like a remote-control helicopter, and, vaguely recalling a family member's peculiar obsession with dining sets, decided he was the right person to hand it to.

'Speak to me'? The saucer was stunned by the idea that any human being could believe that ordinary household objects actually talked, and it sat silently until the host finally left, when it heard the slight sound of metal shifting over tablecloth and a voice plainly saying, "I've never seen such a small plate."

"You haven't seen much then," it grumbled in reply. Then, curious about its surrounding, it spun on its side and began rolling, on its rim in a slow circle around the table, trying to get a better look at its new environment. Seeing nothing of interest, not even a glass cabinet full of exquisite china, it stopped at last by the spoon, and said suspiciously, "Shouldn't there be more of us? He's not seriously intending to have meals with just you and me... is he?"

"I haven't seen him eat any meals yet." , the spoon replied. "As you can probably tell by now, he's not like most people. Most buy sets of us. He seems to be seeking us out individually. I got separated from my set a long time ago though. Sold for a dollar to a pawn shop. What about you?"

Outside of a Restaurant Downtown:

He fell into the night face first, trying to slow his fall against the harsh alley pavement with his hands. "And take a bath. You reek", shouted the restaurant's owner out to the host, before walking back into the warmth of his establishment. The host laid in the alley in shock for a moment, running through the past few minutes in his head. The waiter had seen him slip the fork into his pocket and didn't return the bill, instead bringing out the owner and one of the larger chefs to remove him. There, laying on his stomach, he saw it. About five feet from his head, was a bent, rusty fork. The moment the host's eyes met the fork, he knew it was perfect. He picked himself up and dusted off his suit. After taking a couple of steps, he knelt picking it up. He turned it over in his. "Look at you", he said, allowing a grin to spread across his face. "Look at you", he repeated several times, the grin growing larger and larger.

"I'm not part of a set," the saucer said, with a hint of envy in its voice. "I was in the kitchen department at Macy's. Not even packaged! My teacup was sold separately! What is this world coming to?" It rattled dramatically, enjoying the fact that it had a listener who was not competing with it. All the other saucers in the store always had some snide remarks lined up about this saucer's off-color spots. It showed individual craftsmanship, the saucer insisted, but they always laughed cruelly.

"I was purchased from a posh gift shop, where silverplated tableware is common and gold is only slightly rare! I was bought for a low price of £5000! I was then given to the owner for a birthday present, and since then have been given wonderful treatment" the butterknife proclaimed loudly. He grinned, then began to tell the saucer off for being self-centered. LOL

The spoon was surprised at the butter knife's presence. How long had he been there? Had the host set him down while they weren't watching? The spoon listened patiently to his rant, curious as to what kind of person would gift a single butter knife to someone.
"Well, welcome to the table" said the spoon cautiously, unsure about how to greet this rather proud piece of silverware. "As you can see, he hasn't collected many items yet, so there's not much company here. But while you were with him, did he happen to... you know... try to speak to you?"

"No, I'm afraid not. However, even though you appear to be a simple Spoon, you should be able to understand this: The owner had me under a table for ages! Gosh, it was terrible! I was dusty! I even had a few spiders crawl on me!" he showed an expression of disgust.
"I know what you are thinking. Why would anyone want to give a butterknife to some who has a fork, a spoon, and a saucer. Why not give a knife? But, then again, who could resist me?" he said, proudly.
"I do miss my good friend the jewelled fork." he said, simply.

The Owner walked back through the door. He looked at his mismatched array of dinner-ware, and smiled. His set was nearly complete.
He smiled. He walked over to the pantry, and got out some marmite, the toaster, and some bread.
A few minutes later, he came over with some toast, and some marmite.
He smiled, and picked up the butterknife.
And put it in the marmite.
The Butterknife wanted to scream! This stuff was horrible!
Then he brought him out, and spread the horrible stuff over his toast.
When he left, the Butterknife looked at himself, and cried. It didn't help.
"Oh, look at me!" he cried, "I'm so DIRTY! Boo hooo!"
The butterknife stopped crying, then thought for a few moments.
"You know, our friend the fork is a bit quiet, isn't he?" he said, matter-of-factly

In a Pub Downtown:

The host sank into a bar stool at his favourite pub. It had been weeks since he'd been here last and it looked like they'd redecorated. Staring at the dimly lit wall, his thoughts slipped once more towards his dining set. He had a fork, knife, and spoon. The saucer could serve as a plate.
"A glass...", he murmured aloud.
"What's that?", asked the elderly bartender, leaning in.
"A glass is what I need", the host continued, talking to himself.
"Eh? A glass of what?"
Suddenly, the host was aware of the bartender's presence. Snapping back into the present, he found himself in the middle of accidentally ordering a drink. "Oh.... ummm.... a glass of scotch."
"Sorry, son. Fresh outta scotch."
"That's fine. How about a mug of your cheapest beer then."
The bartender retreated into the back, returning shortly with the promised drink in a stout, barrel-patterned mug. Suddenly the host was ecstatically chatting with the bartender, asking questions about the mug. The old man was quite taken aback at the sudden change in character. He'd seen this man here maybe a dozen or more times, every time quietly drinking alone. The change from that silent figure to this manic interrogator was massive, indeed. Where did he find it? How much was it? What about it caught his eye? He answered these rapid questions as well as he could. But after about five minutes, the barkeep had finally had enough.
"Tell you what," he said hastily. "Why don't you hold onto that mug for now and give it back to me the next time you come here and use it?" The host said nothing, but chugged the beer, shook the bartender's hand, and marched out of the pub with a wild grin on his face. The bartender knew he's never see him again.

The spoon slide around the saucer stopping next to the fork. He could see that the fork had seen plenty of wear. He listened carefully for some time, to make sure that the host really was in his bedroom sleeping. Just an hour ago, he'd burst in through the door and rushed to the table to lay a mug down. Standing there for some time, he murmured enthusiastically about how well his collection was going before his energy was depleted and his eyelids began forcing themselves shut. Hearing nothing but the host's breathing, he whispered to the fork "Are you alright?"

The Mug was set down on the table. It wobbled closer to the spoon and saucer. "Eh what? Someut wrong wit 'im?" It asked with its most cheerful voice. "Why I remember a time when forks was th' mos' valuable item at th' table. Now look at this un. Got more rust on 'im than a musket in th' ocean e' does." It paused for just a second before saying, "An' look at th' saucer, you's a smallish one ain't ya?"

The strange host brought in more dining room utensils. The saucer immediately became offended by the tactless butter knife's antics, but it managed to reign in its temper due to the appearance to two more interesting additions to the table. That bent, rusty fork certainly looked like it had some wild and intriguing tales to tell, and the beer mug --- humph, what did everyone seem to have against the saucer's dimensions? Was it that much of an unusual size? It was getting tiresome. Could they not appreciate instead its attractive red gleam or the elegant geometry of its curves? No, they had to be as jealous and petty as the other saucers in the store.

The only thing to do was to devise a clever comeback and verbally beat its opponents into submission! The saucer hopped up angrily to show its displeasure and shot back at the mug: "Well... you're an ugly one!"

"Ugly! Hahahahaha!" The Mug guffawed. "Ave you ever had a great beard tickle the side of ya? Or knocked some ol' bugger's teeth outta 'im jus' fer the fun o' it? Aye I not be the mos' pleasin' to th' eye. But I've more stories than you'd care t' experience. I've got th' world under me belt, so to speak. Ye've jus' got yer department store gossip!" The Mug laughed again. It was being loud and rowdy but it didn't care. It had played with the rules before and had never been caught. It wasn't lying when it said it had knocked an old man's teeth out. The poor bastard had been sore for days but had blamed it on being drunk.

The saucer shuddered at the idea of being... tickled! By a great beard! Human mouths were filthy! It was so thankful that it wasn't a fork or spoon, so that it wouldn't have to be shoved inside those wet, disgusting orifices several times a day. Though it was rather impressed by the beer mug's, er, martial prowess. This cup was no pushover, not like the mild spoon or the theatrical butter knife.

The saucer shrank slightly at the mention of department store gossip, which cut it deep, for the statement was very true. It had never had any proper experience with a human, after all, aside from being gifted, and all these other objects had. Still, it wasn't about to let that show. This was its first day here, and even if it wasn't the most wordly it had to show everytool that it was still a viable candidate for king of the table. "Say that again, I dare you!" It angrily hopped up and down, clank clank clank. "I bet you anything you'll be the first one to crack!" it said, referring to the host's intention of getting them all to speak to him, which by now was getting quite clear. Its voice carried to the other utensils. "You'll be the one that exposes us all!"

The Mug took its time in responding to the saucer. It had had plenty of opportunities to talk to humans in the past but never had. It wondered why. Why was talking to humans taboo? What could possibly go wrong with wanting to add another conversation partner to the list? But rules were rules. Then the Mug laughed at the plate's show of anger. It was too easy to get under the plate's nerves.

"Aye? Ye'd think so, saucer, but I've never met a dish er glass as was too stupid to follow the rules. I ain't one fer stoppin' the rightful order 'o things. As fer crackin', don't ye know I'm made 'o wood. Tha's sturdy stuff it is. More likely to crack if yer made of plastic er ceramics."

The butterknife was angry at this Mug. This rowdy, Barbaric mug.

"Well, you are nothing but a Barbaric Buffoon, with Wood and bad Craftmanship where there should be manners! Bah! Not like me, and how dare you call that fork rusty!"

The butterknife glared at the wooden cup.

"Your nothing but a teacup! An oversized teacup that been used to incapacitate humans! You should rightfully be back at the Pub, where the other bad-mannered drunks can use you and you can be tickled by those beards of yours!"

The butterknife was very angry now. He so wanted the Host to come and smash that mug against the wall.

The Butterknife looked at the Saucer. "Quite right, old Red Chum! This Mug is going to crack, and then the Host will go mad, and we will never be used again! and it will all be that mugs fault!"

He looked back at the mug. "Just wait till someone spills water on you! You aren't going to be King Of The Table, although you do belong in a cot, you big baby! You are going to be king of the Rubbish!"

He hated people insulting his friends.