Microwave Dave's Bad Days - 2. The Making of Fluff

Hey again. Another couple weeks have passed. Little Devlin had been good, until yesterday, that is. He walks up to me with this huge bag of marshmallows. I can only guess he wants to make taffy. You know, like kids used to do by putting the marshmallow in between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and working it. Never heard of that? Look it up on YouTube. No, really. Search for 'Marshmallow Taffy Billie Burgess.' You're welcome for the hits, Billie. That is one thing you can try at home. What? A friend told me, that's how I know. Devlin is apparently too stupid or too lazy to do it the old-fashioned way.

Anyway, he dumps the whole bag of marshmallows in my mouth, on my stomach, of course. I'm thinking, 'This can't be good.' After he closes my mouth, he climbs back up on the counter so he can push my buttons. Both literally, and figuratively. Boy does that kid push my buttons. Makes me angry if you missed school that day. He must have liked the pizza trick, you know, pushing and holding one. He thinks two might be fun. I quickly scan my memory.

'2, One bag of microwave popcorn, 3 minutes, high.'

Okay, he's too stupid. That solves that riddle.

Well, at least he's not going for two- and three-quarter hours again. Once again, he stands in front of the microwave. Damn, that dentist fixed my mouth, so the microwaves don't leak out. Oh well, I think he'll get a spanking out of this one. No surprise at all to me, the marshmallows start melting. Devlin's eyes open wide, like a pair of saucers. Like for teacups, not flying saucers. Try and keep up with me, okay? "Awesome. Look at it go all over the place." Yeah, real fucking cool, kid. The marshmallow goo is melting all over my stomach. I vomit some off onto the skin on the bottom of my mouth. Devlin is still enthralled, Me? Not so much. Then, like the nails from a few weeks ago, I start hearing popping sounds. Now the goo is bubbling and splattering all over the insides of my mouth. That shit is hot.

You think the kid would hit cancel this time? Nope. He runs out of the kitchen. Of course, I'm hoping he's running away, God knows what he'll do to me next. Meanwhile, the goo is still bubbling and splattering. No such luck with him running away. Mrs. Unlucky... Sorry, they never told me their last name, I gotta go with symbolic names. Anyway, Mrs. Unlucky didn't need to use me for dinner last night. Yeah, I was surprised too, but the food they were eating looked hot. I can't for the life of me figure out how it got that way without using me. If you figure it out someday, program it as 666, because it's got to be something evil.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Mrs. Unlucky didn't use me yesterday. Dinner today, she wanted to, but after she opened my mouth, and screamed "Devlin, what the hell did you do?", cooking dinner using me wasn't in the cards. I never understood that one either. How can something like cooking dinner be or not be in the cards? Recipe cards? Oh, yeah. Awesome, thanks. So, it was take-out for dinner. This time Devlin got an appropriate punishment. He was tasked with cleaning my mouth out. Devlin Unlucky, DMD, at my service. Most dentists use these tiny pointy things to clean. What does Devlin use, you may ask? A fucking putty knife. And not one of those little ones. Nooooo, he's got to dig a three-inch one out of the junk drawer. A friend told me every kitchen has a junk drawer. He would know, he's moved four times. Apparently, his owners kept changing jobs. I've never seen a junk drawer. But then I have a limited view of the kitchen. It's not like I can turn my head or anything.

Yeah, I can see things to my right when my jaw is open, but my left? Nada. I caught a glimpse once when Mrs. U. turned me to pick something up that fell behind me. All I saw was more cabinets, a tall metal thing with two doors... No, I don't know what it was. The doors were closed. I'm smart, not superman. No x-ray vision in my single eye here. And there was another device that kind of looked like me. What? I saw my mother once. I guess she was the box I came out of. It was weird, only part of her looked like me, and she had words all over her. So, there was this other device that looks kind of like me over there to my left. Hmmm, I wonder if he or she was what got their food hot last night. Guess I'll never know. Remember, 666 if you figure it out. Thanks.

So, little Doctor Devlin starts scraping. It's not so bad on my stomach. That's tempered glass, no scratches. Then he quits that quickly and starts on the sides. Damn it kid, be careful. You're taking off layers of my skin. OW!! Almost half of that side of my mouth just peeled away. What does he think I am? A fucking banana? No. Stay away from the roof of my mouth. That's a lot more sensitive. Ow, ow, ow. I'm helpless. All I can do is sit here and take the torture.

Mrs. U. comes back into the kitchen at this time.

"Devlin, what the hell are you doing now?"

"Cleaning the microwave, like you asked."

"You're making a mess of it. I don't know if it will still work now."

No shit, Sherlock. You try doing something with a third of the skin in your mouth hanging off like a curtain. Granted, a curly curtain, but a curtain, nonetheless. She takes the scraper away from him. Thank you, very much. And then she drags him over to a chair at the kitchen table.

Oh, no. I don't need to see this. I... What... Oh, it's disgusting. I'll try to put it into words, but it's so upsetting. She sits down and bends the kid over her lap. And, ewww, ick. I can't say the next part. Then she starts slapping him. Oh, the noise. That smacking, skin on skin sound. Oh, damn, now he's screaming and crying. I guess getting hit like that on your bare bottom must hurt a lot. Yeah, I had to look at the kid's butt. If my stomach wasn't still mostly covered in hardened marshmallow goo, I'd be vomiting at the sight of this. Stop. Please stop!