Washing Machine Of Death

Our washing machine has a tendency to walk towards you during its spin cycle. The kitchen floor isn't particularly slippy, yet within minutes of the roaring sound of vigorous washing kicking in, the machine will have edged its way several feet as though its hungry to chomp through human flesh with its circular plastic mouth. The first time I noticed this I was standing making some food when I noticed a nudging by my side. I thought nothing of it, until further more angry nudging and I found myself being pushed towards our oven. I turned around to discover the washing machine had escaped from its cubby hole under the sink, rocking back and forth like an aggressive drunk. I pushed it back with more effort than I wanted to use, only for minutes later it was humping my leg again, determined to clean or soften me. I'm sure its all to do with a combination of a slippy tiled kitchen floor and a machine that is probably on its way out, but I can't help but worry that its possessed. It doesn't appear to have a make or a name and I can only assume it was discovered in an Incan burial ground in South America. Warning signs around it confused for signs not to 'tumble dry at 60 degrees' or something.

Last night Tom put a wash on really late, with the theory that he would empty his clothes this morning. As I write, I presume they are still sitting in their own private damp pool within the beast, slowly rummaging in that smell you can only get from the innards of a wet metal tunnel. As I went to bed, the machine went into its mental stage, the very floor seemingly shaking with fear at the possibility of being drowned. I tried to drift off into sleep but started to have weird dreams about waking up with the machine having edged all the way towards my bed, eyes opening to witness its draw opening and closing inches from my face. The dial somehow being set to 'DIE' and blood spilling out of the edges of the door. This would bother me for two reasons: 1) Because of fear that it would need my blood to live and would try and attempt to eat me, and 2) because it would turn all my whites pink.

I'm not sure the best way to combat it. I'm tempted to get some sort of holy cable or blessed chains to secure it to the wall. Perhaps pour holy water in with garlic powder for every wash, although this will just mean clothes would smell worse than they did on the way in. Maybe I just shouldn't wash clothes and it will eventually wither away through lack of feeding? This of course would mean only wearing dirty clothes or becoming a nudist and current weather and self respect stop either of these (you decided which one is for which outcome). Or I might just paint a big scary face on the front and tell people its our pet. My only worry then is if we all go away and put a wash on when we come home to find all our clothes covered in rabbit food. Still, that's better than blood.