The Evil Vacuum (And now I know how to spell Vacuum)

My vacuum is a zombie. By that I mean it half works. We've had that thing for more than five years, and it was a piece of junk the day it was purchased. Over the past few years it became my responsibility to vacuum, and with that came me sucking things up that I shouldn't have been (like thread or straw) and hitting every piece of furniture in the house. But in the past few months that vacuum and I have formed a hatred for one another. It will break and it will be "my fault" because I sucked up litter, of knocked it against something. Well today I beat that stupid vacuum.

We recently got a new belt for it, because I shredded the old one (surprise surprise). But the new one was too small, and apparently that smell of burning rubber was some random part of the vacuum hitting the too small belt, and that part died. When my dad started taking it apart to diagnose the problem, he made me turn it on to see if he had fixed the monster. Instead it just started to smoke. Way to go dad. So I couldn't really vacuum effectively. But I still had to! Using only the hard floors setting on carpets is EVIL. We're thinking of getting a new vacuum, and when we do, I will finally win the war with the vacuum from the the underworld.

The Evil Vacuum in its natural habitat.

The Fiery Ice cream pits of doom.

P.S: The random new paragraph had no meaning, I just wanted a new paragraph somewhere.