Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Microwave Dave's Bad Days - 5. Soup to Nuts, White on Rice
Yeah, I'd be on him like white on rice if I could, but he tried to soup me up first, so we'll talk about that one now.
You've seen those individual containers of soup, right? You take off the lid and pop them in the microwave for two minutes. TWO. You heard that, right? Since when is twenty equal to two? Hmmm? Please. Tell me, because I can't understand. Well, neither can the little idiot that lives in this house. And, oh, yeah, the part about removing the lid first? Obviously a little too difficult for him to comprehend. And to top it all off, he not only cooks the soup, with the lid on, for twenty minutes, and he fucking walks away!
My designers have programmed me not to beep while something is cooking. Well, there is one exception. You could set me up to cook something on high for some period of time, then immediately switch to a different power level, or vice versa. I'm allowed to beep once in that case when the power change occurs. But cook something for twenty minutes? Radio silence the whole way through. I would have beeped my fucking head off after three minutes and seventeen seconds if I was allowed.
First the lid pops off because the soup is starting to boil after three minutes and two seconds. Only fifteen seconds of boiling is enough for the soup to pop its top. But does my misery continue? Did Kathy Bates whack James Caan's ankles in 'Misery?' Damn straight. So, the soup bubbles over. It's all over my stomach and getting hotter. I'm made to withstand heat but come on folks! Being covered with boiling soup was not in the job description.
Well, now the carrots, peas and whatever the hell those little pieces of white stuff are, are starting to dry out. Freeze-dried, they're not. No sir-ee Bob. Like I care that your name isn't Bob. It's an expression. I'm literally venting here. Smoke is blowing out of my ears. We're at ten minutes and three seconds and Devlin decides it's time to check on his glop. Yes, glop. Because it sure as hell ain't soup anymore.
I'm amazed! The little moron can actually learn. Apparently, getting shelled by eggs, get it, shelled? Fine, I thought it was clever. Anyway, getting hit with eggshell shards taught him to hit cancel, but not open my mouth right away. Today? Not gonna make a bit of difference. The pressure inside me is not dissipating quickly. I'm not a physicist, or would it be chemist? Either way, I'm not one of those, but if I had to guess, time won't prevent my mouth from exploding open for at least thirty minutes. The forty-seven seconds he waits won't make a damn bit of difference.
Okay. Maybe this won't be so bad. He's leaning in, looking closely at me. I think his hand is heading to the lockjaw remedy. That's the open-door button, by the way. Yep. This is gonna be the funniest one yet. He pushes the lockjaw remedy button...
Oh, shit. I think my jaw slamming open knocked the little shit out cold. Mrs. Smith/Balor comes running in after hearing the thwack sound of our jaws connecting. Did anybody figure out how she can be Mrs. Balor and Mrs. Smith at the same time? No? Damn. Okay, back to the injured kid. I can see normally now because the Mrs. bumped my mouth closed with her hip. How rude! You're supposed to close my mouth gently, not slam it.
Oh, crap. I think the bottom hinge is a little out of whack. Hehe. The thwack knocked it out of whack. Never mind. My mouth is still closed, but I can see... Nope, that was the sun. I thought I saw a tiny gap in my gasket. I don't need gapsket disease after everything else that kid has done to me.
Oh, sorry. You're probably more concerned about your fellow human than me. Mom has him sitting up at the table. I'm no doctor, but that red stripe up and down the right side of his face can't be a good thing. Especially since it's moving. Mov... Oh, I get it. He must have had one of those fake blood capsules pasted up by his temple. It can't be real blood. Can it?
Oh, no. Not another dish towel and duct tape. I told you about the previous owners, right? Anyway, she's guiding Devlin out of the kitchen. Hey! What about me? I'm a freaking mess in here. My cries fall on deaf ears. No, not really, they couldn't hear me. Did you really think they could? Sucker!
**************
Mom cleaned me again with the early morning, not-metal stuff again. Dawn Platinum, my ass! No, I don't have an ass, you ass. I do have a tail, though.
Anyway, back to the kid. It's been three days, and I haven't seen Devlin since mom walked him out. I kind of miss him.
Hah! Gotcha! You believed me. Besides, there he is walking into the kitchen. He opens a cabinet door, and he's got this little white cup in his hand. I haven't seen one of those before. I hope he read the directions right. Why is he turning it sideways? Oh, good. The directions are pointing at me. Remove cover and microwave on high for one minute. Simple enough.
No! Take it off. I don't know what's inside it, so I have no idea what it's going to do to me. Take it off. Does he listen? No, of course not. I can't talk.
Two, three, four, fi... That's not one minute! I'm obedient, so I begin cooking like I'm programmed to. Eighty-eight seconds in, a tear appears in the lid. Oh, did I ever mention that my single eye can see both ways? How else would I always know what he's putting inside of me? Anyway, the tear appeared and whatever it is starts steaming. Then it starts popping. Again, with the popping. It can't be popcorn in that little container. Nope, rice kernels started flying out of it. Well, at least I know what it is now. If it wasn't happening on my belly, I'd think this was cool, but the container appears to be some kind of transformer toy. But it's transforming into, what? More glop?
Don't just stand there watching it melt all over me kid. Hit cancel. I'll spell it out for you. C-A-N-C-E-L!!
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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