The motor roared to life with the flip of the switch, then coughed and sputtered like the old man across the road who refused to give up his daily pack of smokes. There were two kinds of cleaners in this world. The kind that made homes look shiny and clean and the kind that let you eat off the floors. The 115334 vacuum motor wasn't either of them.
It had too much pride and wasn't about to become someone's play toy that found itself tucked away inside a dark and lonely closet at the end of the day. No. It was better than that. It was the kind that you found sucking up the blood off the floors where dead bodies had laid only moments before.
The kind that caused even the lowest of criminals to stand up and take notice because if by even the slightest chance they didn't, they would wind up being a part of the dead body count that was racking up numbers faster than the flies could get to them. Of course it made no difference to that blood sucking machine whether you were a criminal or not. If you were in its path, you had no choice but to be its next victim. There were no survivors.
Or so it thought and now here I am telling you what I know. What I see and what it wants me to see.