The Rough Green Pad

A sudden trickling hum drew me climbing up the tea-towel trail onto the cool enamel sink counter. I froze instantly mid-scramble, wide eyes locked onto the tall chrome faucet dripping into a metal basin. Puffed up tall to claim my ground, I took two heavy, squelching stomps across the damp surface. Resting by the edge was a dry, stiff scouring sponge with a coarse dark green abrasive back. Reaching down with both clawed hands, I drove my palms right into the rough mesh. It resisted with a scratchy, crunchy grate against my skin. With a sharp chirp, I shoved the block across the counter until it wedged firmly under the metal tap.