Bernie and Iggy-- A Writer's Digest Flash Fiction Challenge

The February Flash Fiction Challenge prompt today is to write from the perspective of a kitchen item

Bernie never had problems with self-confidence. Of the four siblings, he was the strongest. 18,000 BTUs of muscle. He had a softer side, too. An inner ring of precision that could gently simmer the most delicate sauces. But he was nothing without Iggy, and he knew it.

Bernie and Iggy were a match made in Cleveland, TN. The production team at the KitchenAid plant introduced them, and a bond was ignited. They’ve been together going on three years, enjoying the challenges of culinary life. There was the time they roasted Fresno chilies. The smoky char and invigorating spice combined excited their sensors. Together they faced the weight of the Dutch oven and produced the most tender pot roast with the unyielding stamina of “low and slow.” Their specialty, though, was the Power Boil. They could enrage 6 quarts of water into a rapid boil in under 15 minutes. A record among their kind.

Iggy hasn’t been around lately. The dial clicks and clicks for her attention, but she doesn’t answer. Bernie didn’t think he did anything wrong… sure, there was the overflow incident, but they’ve prevailed through worse messes. His siblings’ flames whispered in their little circles, but Bernie couldn’t hear what was said over the clanking of cookware and muttering of the cook.

Then the worst happened. Bernie, with all his strength, was reduced to a supporting role. He did his best to keep the cutting board steady and provide stability under the stoneware waiting for the ribeye. But it wasn’t what he was made for. He continued to click, hoping to coax Iggy back.

It was a cold morning when metal hit metal and Bernie was extracted from his home. Rough, unknown hands ripped him away from his siblings. The Counter, as smooth and clean as she was, wasn’t any place for a burner of his caliber. He trembled as the foreign hands probed through his home with unfamiliar tools. They weren’t the assembly machines he knew in Tennessee. They were quick and efficient. These primitive objects were crude. Bernie would turn up his nose if he had one.

Microfiber draped over him, shielding him from the carnage. The fabric offered some momentary comfort until the peace was shattered by movement once again. His surprise morphed into awe as he was nestled back in his home. It had been cleaned and polished, look almost as good as the day he made his debut at the end of the production line. 

He clicked again.

And Iggy returned.

She was more vibrant than he had seen in a long while. She circled him, playfully dancing about. Bernie still didn’t know if he was the cause; she refused to discuss her absence. It didn’t matter. A plump, deep red bell pepper had joined them. And they knew exactly what to do.