Rated G. Contains objects and animals that refuse to remain in their platonic categories.
by Eugie Foster
As she opened the door, Hisa was surprised to see an iron kettle sitting on her step. It had a large, round belly and four stumpy legs. The spout was wide and curved like a fox’s mouth with two round, black eyes above it. And most curious, a pair of pointed triangles jutted from the top, exactly like a pair of ears.
“What an unusual teakettle.” Hisa looked, but there was no one about.
She set aside her broken pot and brought the new, iron one inside. She poured sweet, cool water into it. Where her old kettle took eight dippers of water, this new one required a full twelve to fill.
Hisa stoked the fire high and lifted the kettle to the hook.
“Mistress, I thank you for the drink, but please don’t put me on the fire.”
Hisa spun around, sloshing water on the floor. “Who said that?”
“It was I, mistress. The teakettle.”
Hisa stared at the iron pot in her hands. “Teakettles do not talk.”
“I’m only pretending to be a teakettle.”