The Weirdest Washing Machine.

Alan Keyes woke up and moaned. It was the same dreary Saturday routine. His head was throbbing and pounding, his mouth was dry, his whole stomach was nearly heaving again. Last night at the bar was now a mystery, a fog of drinking and laughing at unfunny, dirty jokes. Great fellows, his friends. They had cheered at sport on a large screen, until the vision blurred.

Alan peered through his smeary bedroom window at his beloved wheels. Yes, he had hit something last night. Now there was yet another small dent. He shrugged. Alan had followed in his late father's footsteps, right to the bottle shop. His father had driven off a bridge, drunk one evening. No one in his family had shed a tear, just got on with their own drinking.

Alan stared around his personal space. It was a litter of empty booze cans, and a pile of his used washing. For once, Alan did not head straight to the fridge, looking for his usual morning grog. He sipped some water, and headed for a shower. His red rimmed eyes stared back at him. "Whatever..." he told himself.

It was his normal load of washing. He added the detergent, switched on his washing machine. It was a bit of an antique, built to last, like Alan. He wondered if he should get on with another round of super housework. Alan's dull contemplation of the vacuum cleaner and ageing toilet brush was interrupted. An immensely peculiar sound was emerging from his trusty washing machine.

Alan hurried to the region of his laundry. The noise was bewildering. His washing machine looked normal enough. He lifted the lid on his old automatic washer. Suds foamed, the sunlight was pouring through the window, creating an iridescent rainbow.

A small winged angel abruptly flew from the load of washing! Alan had never had a hangover quite like this. Did he have the DT's? The tiny angel soured and sparkled round the room. It was all very strange. The air seemed heavy with enchantment, a thick spell was being woven in Alan's home. Suddenly, there it was, a gleaming white angel, fluttering in circles.

Alan blinked, and rubbed his eyes. He muttered, "I know that this is Miracle detergent, but what is going on here? But really, I guess every home needs its own guardian angel....."

Dumbfounded, Alan sat down, abandoning all chances of his good intentions of super housework. The angel appeared to be having fun. Gender unknown, it flew around and landed on Alan's shoulder. Alan tasted heavenly ambrosia, instantly curing his headache. It was mystical healing, a reflection of true beauty.

Then the angel spoke, "I am your guardian angel, sent from your loved ones. Always on your side, loving from above, guiding your path. You need to take a good hard look at yourself and your drinking. You have let yourself go. Look at this mess here!"

Alan blinked again. "What's it to you?"

The guardian angel spoke up.

"I am here to guide you to be sober. You need AA on that phone of yours. All those cans of booze need to meet and greet the rubbish bin. You are going to give up the grog. It is going to be hard, I am here to support you. I shall bless you for every day with no booze from here on in."

Alan did not think he could ever give up drinking the demon grog.

"What's in it for me?"

The guardian angel waved its little arms, and golden sparkles filled the air.

"I can give you my magic love, sent from above. Look, you are still a handsome rooster. You could have a woman in your arms and bed if you behaved yourself. It is up to you."

Alan was not so keen on this plan to abandon his heavy drinking habits, but maybe it was worth the effort.

"Some birds like a party animal like me..."

"But all you' ll ever get is futile one night stands. Come on, in a year's time, you could have a wife and a baby on the way. You could buy a Golden Labrador, a cute sloppy puppy. Now look after you! You're starting today!"

Alan was still a bit puzzled. " I did not know angels were so catty, let alone chatty."

'You forgot bossy," the guardian angel smiled, "you better believe it."

"I'd love to have a son and a puppy," Alan went a bit misty-eyed.

"I am on your side. It is super clean up day here, then you can sit down and write a budget, and a plan for giving up the grog. You are not a hopeless case. God loves you to the moon and beyond."

Alan thought about that for a minute. "I don't want to be too religious. Had enough of that when I was young."

"Won't do you any harm, can't hurt," was all the guardian angel said.

The angel sent more heavenly ambrosia, and Alan's unit was filled with more sparkles, with soft, shining lights. Alan was convinced by now that he had a very good imagination. Too beautiful.

"Now get that washing done. A positive anything is better than a negative nothing. This is day one of a new man. That pretty little chick at work likes you. Come on, I'll help you through this. I am at your side."

Alan was still a bit unsure. "Have I got the DT's?"

The guardian angel replied, "No, but you're heading that way. It's the bottle or the babes, my boy. Give yourself a chance."

Alan stood up, awed by the display of heavenly light and sparkles. He knew deep down that he had to have faith in himself. Miracle detergent, indeed. The guardian angel took up residence on Alan's shoulder, and let it rip through that long, dry Saturday. Nag, nag, nag, but very kind.

Alan finally went to bed, exhausted. For once, he had a good night's sleep. He could battle his demons, with his guardian angel and a bit of faith. In the morning he woke up, tasting ambrosia. He gazed at a photo of his future puppy, all slobbering. "God is good, he makes Labrador puppies," the angel commented, "Attaboy!"

Alan definitely owned the weirdest washing machine in the world, magic!