Short Paragraph on The Autobiography of a Kettle

By | February 1, 2018

I am afraid I do not attract attention, and yet there is not a single home in which I could be done without.

I am only a small, black kettle but I have much to interest me, for something new happens to me every day. The kitchen is not always a cheerful place in which to live, but still I find plenty of excitement there, and I am quite happy and contented with my lot.

I certainly cannot be called handsome. For one thing, I have a very long neck, and this seems to afford the tea-pot much amusement. She also makes fun of my hat, which she says is oldfashioned. You see my hat sits right on my head, where it should be. Only the other day my neighbour teased me about my dirty face. What does it matter if my face is sometimes dirty? I am always clean within. Let me remind my friend, as she smilingly sits upon the hoh, that she cannot sit upon the fire and sing as I do.

I find it a great trial to have a cold hath every morning and every evening. Oh, dear! I am cold the one minute and hot the next. However. I have become used to that.

I am quite friendly with the poker, but I have no use for the tongs. “Where are your legs?” said the tongs one day. Well, in my opinion, it is much better to have a large body and no legs, than a pair of legs like stilts, and no body.

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