Kitchen Soliloquy #7: The Judgmental Microwave
“Step into my fortress,” says the microwave, the evil auctioneer, conductor of particle transportation. And many did.
“Step into my fortress,” says the microwave, the evil auctioneer, conductor of particle transportation. And many did.
The plughole was growing tiresome of this menace, this looming eye over it, watching, it’s long neck cocked out, waiting for something to happen. The tap had spent every day since installation spying (maybe that’s too subtle a word) on the plughole.