It was time to hoover. Why did they say that? he wondered. Nobody ever dysoned or mieled the carpet as far as he knew. He was thinking the bizarre thought in an attempt to put off doing a job he hated.
His vacuum cleaner actually was a Hoover, so the verb was justified in this case.
He plugged it into the wall and powered up. Almost immediately he realised that it wasn't picking up properly and he did what most people would do in that situation: he stared exasperatedly into the end of the pipe, looking for an obvious blockage.
The machine had more power than he expected and it sucked him in.
One uncomfortably tight journey later and he was wedged into a tightly-packed bag full of dust, hair and spiders.
This sucks, he thought and guffawed loudly.
The vacuum cleaner continued to run. Eventually the bag became overfull and burst, catapulting him back into his living room in a shower of dust and plastic Hoover parts.
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