The Towel's tale

(from a long lost chapter of Canterbury Tales - or quite possibly independent satire based upon someone's inferring the other life my towel leads during daylight hours.)

"Duty is," said the towel, "making it back to your rack before the Brobdingian monsters return home. Why, just today I barely made it back to home before their raucous machines rattled into the drive."

But duty, in it's rarest form, is more than mere appearance, thought the toothpaste. I have been here for days, nay months living only to serve. But alas, the toothpaste did not speak up seeing the other hygiene products nodding in agreement to the rakish towel's adventurous story.

"Why just today," the towel continued, "I was out in the garden fighting off the mysterious fluffy tailed destroyer of tomatoes. Of course, this meant I had to traverse the territory of the monster's toothed servant. I tell you it has eyes that burn through you, teeth longer than dear toothbrush's body and a voice all hell conspired to create."

The razor looked confused, "The fluffy destroyer, or the toothed servant the one they call c-era?"

"The toothed servant c-era of course," sniped the shaving cream - made grough by long neglect.

"Yes, yes," continued the towel, "the c-era creature caused me to circumvent the yard and drag myself though the fields of yon foreign moo-beasts, a treacherous and vile journey. Upon my arrival in the garden the fluffy beast stood upon it's two huge feat, roared and wiggled it's twitching odor detector at me. Apparently sensing the foul journey I had undertaken, and seeing I was in no mood to negotiate it trundled off to far unknown areas. Cowardly vermin! Alas I will return to the garden to destroy this rank beast anon."

The towel then glance around the room and returned itself under the older towel where it more easily retained it's honorable battle patina. Thus endeth The Towel's Tale.