The Machine Washable Dragon by Christopher Butt

I’m filled with joy as the soap and water batter my body, cleaning away the dirt. Through the bubble glass, I see the world spin. The ironing board, the clothes hanging on the small rack, and the funny sign on the wall indicating how and when the laundry will get done. When the spin cycle stops and I am lying on my side, I feel clean. The dirt is washed away, like my sins.

  The door opens and she reaches for me. She places me in a basket with other wet clothes and heads outside. Eventually, with love and care, she clips me to a line at the back of the house. It’s a warm day, and the breeze dries my woolly body as I sway back and forth. I am happy.

  My first memory of Mother, or in fact my first memory of anything, came when she grabbed me off the shelf in the toy store. Words, strange words, were whispered in my ear. I felt for the first time and suddenly I could see. Mother looked at me with her big green eyes, which matched her dress. She smiled.

  “You’re perfect.”

  At home, I met Father and was placed in a small room on a shelf. In the middle of the room was a cage that was open at the top. The walls were yellow and blue with small animals painted on them. Others like me shared the shelf, and as the months went by, we felt the importance of the room.

  One day when Mother entered; she rubbed her growing belly and smiled. She walked over and took me from the shelf. She placed my head next to her belly.

  “Listen." she said with a soft voice.

  I heard blood rushing, stomach growling, and very faintly, a heartbeat. Instincts grew within me, and I felt a longing to meet this creature. Sensing my feelings, Mother put me back on the shelf and spoke to me.

  “Soon.”

   Before I knew it, the cage was occupied by a small creature. Mother brought me over and introduced me.

  “Rachel.”

  She placed me in the corner of the cage and whispered. “Always be her dragon.”

  I was never far from her side. Cuddled, tucked in, and squeezed at every opportunity. I was chewed on, had food spilled on me and was thrown around. It was glorious. Soon, the cage became a bed, the play was more vigorous, and sometimes I needed stitching up. Mother always looked after my needs, which sometimes meant the machine.

  The first time I went into the machine, Mother said to me, “Need to keep you clean. A clean dragon is a strong dragon.”

  It was scary at first. She placed me in a large white thing and closed the door. I could see her through the glass. Soon I was covered in soapy water as the machine spun me around. I was shaking when Mother pulled me out. She soothed me with her voice.

  “Sometimes we need to do things that are scary, but you’re a brave dragon," she said and soon I was hanging in the sunshine.

  I began to look forward to the machine. Sometimes Rachel would stare at me through the bubble glass and watch me dance in the soap and water. After I was hanging on the line, she kept badgering Mother about when it was time to come off the line. The second I was dry enough, Rachel grabbed me and we had adventures.

  One night as Rachel slept, me in her arms, Mother came into the room and knelt next to the bed. I noticed her face was wet, water coming from her eyes. She leaned her face next to mine and whispered, “No more just being her friend. Now you need to be her protector.”

  I felt something happening to me as she stared at me. He eyes empowering me. She kissed my head and turned away. Before she closed the door, she glanced at me once more.

  Sometime later, Father entered the room. He knelt on the bed. He said and did something to make Rachel cry. I instinctively felt something inside me come alive and I heard myself growl. The next thing I remember I was lying on the floor, staring up at Mother holding Rachel in her arms. I didn’t see Father.

  Mother picks me up. As I was placed in the machine, she said, “Good dragon.”

  I never saw Father again. Mother never mentioned him, and Rachel didn’t seem to miss him. I was, however, never far from her side. I sometimes saw her cry and hug herself. Mother came in and soothed her.

  She said to Rachel, “It takes time, but you will survive.”

  Time passed. New friends. New schools. Soon I was surrounded by plastic girls who lived in a wooden house whose clothes Rachel changed constantly. She sometimes put me in the back of the girls’ car and drove me around in it. Her friends played with me, and I was taken along on trips to school in a pink pack.

  Other times, Rachel left me at home. This made me sad, but Mother would console me.

  “There are times when she needs to be by herself. Don’t worry, she is always going to need you.”

  I was always happy when she got home. I sat next to her as she did homework and talked on her phone. At night before she went to sleep, she would tell me about her day. The good things and the bad. 

  Boys. When they came into her life, I found myself staying at home more often. Mother would smile at me, and I knew Rachel was fine. In the evening, after talking to her friends, I would hear about the boy. Gerry was his name. She was happy with Gerry. Her being happy made me happy.

  One day, soon after, Rachel came home crying. She wasn’t happy with Gerry and told Mother that he did mean things to her. When she ran into the bathroom crying, I started to growl. Mother came into the room and waved her finger at me.

  “No. He broke her heart, that’s all. She will get over it and heal. Don’t worry, you’ll know when to act.”

  I put the growl away. In bed later, Rachel hugged me. Through her tears, she whispered in my ear.

  “Sorry I leave you at home. You will always be my dragon.”

  Peter was the next boy that came into her life. Rachel called him ‘Parker’ after some boy who could crawl like a spider. He was allowed to come into Rachel’s room. When I first saw him, Rachel showed me to him. He laughed and said it was childish to have such a thing. She called him an idiot and placed me back on the shelf.

  Soon, I saw very little of Rachel. One night she came home and just fell asleep on the bed. I was left on the shelf. It happened again the next night and soon I wasn’t in bed at all. Mother told me it was just a phase. That I was always going to be her dragon. Still, I felt bad.

   One night, Peter was in the room with Rachel. Mother wasn’t at home. Peter and Rachel laughed and talked. I could see them in the mirror. Soon they weren’t talking. They were on the bed and making funny noises. I felt something inside me. I recognized those noises.

  I suddenly heard Rachel’s voice. “No. Please. I can’t”

  “Sure, you can,” Pete said.

In the mirror I saw Peter holding Rachel down. I remembered Father and felt the growl coming. I let it out. Peter turned and looked at me. I was standing above him. He screamed. I growled. Peter’s face was covered in blood, and he ran from the house.  After Peter was gone, I was lying on the floor staring up at Rachel. She picked me up and held me tight.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  When Mother got home, Rachel told her what had happened. She led Rachel to the bathroom and ran the bath. After Rachel was settled, Mother took me down to the machine. She nodded to me as she closed the bubble door.

  “Thank you for being her dragon.”

  I heard Mother talk about Peter a while later.

  “People think he’s mad. Claims he was attacked by a dragon.”

  That was the last time I heard myself growl. After a time, Mother came to me and spoke.

  “I’m going away soon. I will miss you. You’re just as perfect as the day I found you.”

  Her words made me sad. “Always be her dragon.”

  I never saw Mother again. Rachel cried and held me tight.

  “It’s just us now," she said with a sad smile. “We will survive.”

  Survive we did. Johnathon came into our lives. Rachel was happy. When she introduced me to him, he said one word.

  “Cool.”

  Rachel winked at me and nodded.

  Now, as I swing on the line in the breeze, I hear the back door open and Rachel comes out and takes me off the line. She places me next to her growing belly.

  “Listen.”

  I hear the blood, the stomach and the faint heartbeat. She brings me up and looks at me. I see Mother in her face and feel her strength.

  “Soon," she says to me. “Carol is her name.”

  Rachel gives me a big hug and whispers.

  “Always be her dragon.”

Originally from Corner Brook, Newfoundland and Labrador, Christopher Butt is a twenty-

year veteran of the Canadian Military. He is also the author of several published short

stories and 2 collections, In the Lair of the Kraken and The Wreckhouse, both available at darkwinterlit.com. He currently lives in St. Catharines, Ontario.