Magic sprinkle dust

If I had magic sprinkle dust, I would first sprinkle it on my brain so I could be smarter. Maybe then I would stop doing stupid things.

Then I would sprinkle magic sprinkle dust around my kitchen so it would cook for me. You know, kind of like in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. The dishes would sing and dance, which might get annoying, but hey, they'd be cleaning themselves.

I'd also probably sprinkle the vacuum cleaner.

Then what? After I went to bed at night, the vacuum cleaner would start dancing with the dishwasher, in spite of the refrigerator's attempts to silence them. The vacuum would get angry, and beat up the fridge in a fit of rage. And that would be the end of the refrigerator.

But somehow, the vacuum would have to dispose of the body. I'm guessing it would bury it out in the back yard.

And having struck once, I'm sure that vacuum would look for opportunities to strike again. The other, unsprinkled vacuum would be the next to go. Then the clock radio. And finally the stove.

Late one night, we would be sleeping peacefully in our rooms, when we would suddenly hear a whirr --

Oooh! It gives me little goose-pimply chills down my spine just thinking about it.

And that, my friends, is why I don't use magic sprinkle dust. Because I do not trust the vacuum. Not at all.