My dad is a fervent supporter of the vacuum cleaner. My mom, on the other hand stubbornly sticks to the traditional way. Not that she can fly a broomstick. Her argument is simple: the vacuum cleaner sucks. Not in the literal sense, alas.
True, our vacuum cleaner sucked. You see, back at home, we had a cumbersome model which weighed like a hundred gold bars. However, it somehow didn't cross my dad's mind to keep it somewhere more easily accessible than in the cupboard. During the rare occasions when he felt like cleaning the house, he'd have to carry it down. Things would be much easier if we had a forklift in our house. But perhaps that was my dad's very intention - it saved him trips to the gym.
After laboriously bringing down the vacuum cleaner, he'd assemble the hoses and pipes - pretty much like the Ghostbusters way. Then, before plugging in the power cord, he'd usher us to seek shelter in our rooms. I'd stuff my pillow into my right ear and my bolster into the left, because all hell would break loose when dad brought the vacuum cleaner to life with a touch of the switch. The beast would howl like a hundred Katrinas. No doubt if Dorothy lived next door, she'd embrace herself for another trip to the Land of Oz.
The fact that I did not grow resentful of the vacuum cleaner despite my childhood experiences is a mystery. In fact, one of the household appliances I first bought before moving out from the dorm was none other than a vacuum cleaner. As much as I would like to, I couldn't afford the latest model which allegedly sucked like a black hole. So, I went for the cheapest model instead, which sucks nevertheless. This time, in the literal sense.
It comes in handy especially in resolving my longstanding feud with the dust bunnies. You see, I'm a territorial animal. I'll never share my room with anyone, not with the boogeyman, and certainly not with the dust bunnies. Unfortunately, these creatures are called dust "bunnies" not without a reason - they reproduce at a greater rate than growing beard. And when you think you've got them all, they just magically reappear out of nowhere the next day. There's no way of wiping all of them; you can never afford showing these ninnies mercy.
Sometimes, I turn a blind eye to the situation but more often than not, some of the more stubborn dust bunnies would venture beyond their borders - namely the unreachable and therefore well-ignored corner under my bed. That's when Sucker (the uncreative name eventually stuck) is summoned to mediate the conflict. However, Sucker always succumbs to his voracious appetite, much to my indifference nevertheless.
Just like my electric flask that doubles as an egg boiler, Sucker doubles as a roach exterminator. On a rescue mission for the laptop's escape key which wasn't spared by the rapacious Sucker, I found myself rummaging through half-digested roaches with missing limbs. I counted six. And sure enough though, the dust bunnies suffered a greater number of casualties.
"Death to all invaders" - Sucker fights on with the spirit of the most valiant freedom fighter. I guess Sucker earns a medal of honour for his service in defending the sovereignty of our land.