I was asked to write a short, humorous essay or column for my first piece.  That’s all they (the higher ups) told me.  Damn generalizations.  So I’ve decided to hit them back with the most off-the-wall nonsense article I can come up with.  It sounds like I want to lose the job I don’t even fully have.  But oh well.  “Nuts,” I say.  So here we go…

 The Myth of Microwaves
By Matthew Perry

      When I was a child I pulled some leftover rice out of the refrigerator and shoveled it onto my plate.  I covered it before I put it in the microwave (like I had seen my mother do hundreds of times before).  I threw it in the nuker and was about to hit Start when my mother hit my hand away in a hurry.  I didn’t know why until she told me I couldn’t cover my food in aluminum foil.  “What would happen?” I asked.  “Nothing good,” she responded.  I got scared and ended up eating my rice cold.

      The question I asked my mother resurfaced when I witnessed an exploding microwave on TV.  Some villain in some God-awful movie decided he’d do an evil deed by placing a cast-iron pot inside the microwave of the good guy’s house.  First, I thought how big of a pansy this “bad” guy really was (he acted like Emeral if he went postal) and then I decided to tackle the question further.  Would a microwave really explode?  I had fantasies of sneaking into my enemies’ houses and sabotaging them as they came down to breakfast.  “Eat wave!” I would yell as a flying cast-iron pot stuck in their skulls.

      I didn’t have a chance to test it until a certain winter’s night.  My friends and I were bored (as usual; I lived in South Carolina) and just drifting around by car.  We came upon a retirement home, which was in the process of being built, and decided to explore its skeletal insides.  Since it was night all the workers had gone home.  For some reason the construction workers liked to leave all of their crap lying around.  There were coolers, cups, tools, jackets, shirts and yes… you guessed it… an old microwave.  It was the exact same model as the one I had witnessed in the B-movie!  “Hell’s yeah,”  I said to my friends.

     I briefly filled them in on the question I (and no doubt millions of others) had had in mind.  My friend Tom replied, “We were going to throw some metal in it anyways.”  “Really?” I asked.  “Why?”  My friends looked at each other for a moment.  “Why not?”

      So we set to work putting the microwave in a wide-open area of the construction site (just incase the nuclear blast caused structural damage).  We then loaded it up with different pieces of scrap metal.  We avoided using nails in case shrapnel ensued.  (As a side-note, I also tried to estimate how much volume a cast-iron pot had.)  Once that was done we barricaded ourselves behind some doors that had yet to be put into their proper ways (get it? Doorways…).  The final decision was a dreaded one.  Who would push the switch?  (If you could hear sound effects you would have just heard thunderclaps.)

      We ruled out our friend Gerry because his weight and stocky legs wouldn’t let him escape to safety in time.  Tom was ruled out because he owned the car that was parked out front.  Like the draft-dodger I am, I claimed I had come up with the idea, which left only one man… Trey.

      Just to ease Trey’s mind a little he was given a stick approximately three feet long to poke the button with, which was ludicrous since we expected this to be the next Hiroshima.  It all came down to this.  We took our places behind the manmade protective barriers.  Trey set the timer to thirty seconds and walked away from the bomb.  He then proceeded toward it slowly, stick outstretched, as if he was about to poke a dinosaur to see if it was still alive.  He shut his eyes and pushed the button.

      What happened next was so unbelievable I can only try to put it into words.  The sound equivalent to two freight trains crashing filled the ears of people for miles.  Instantly the microwave erupted into a mountain of atomic flame, which engulfed everything it touched.  I had time to glimpse Trey’s skeleton hitting the ground before fire wrapped around me.  Gerry was saved because the blast could only burn part of his bulk before it receded.  Tom was instantly cremated like Trey.  I can only imagine the miracle of divine intervention that saved me…

      I’m sorry.  That last paragraph was complete B.S.  What happened was not unbelievable at all.  Trey hit the button and took cover with me behind the door.  We heard nothing for several seconds so decided it was safe enough to look.  A bright glow emanated from inside the microwave and instead of two freight trains we only heard a few clicks and pops.

      I wondered how I could kill my enemies with this crap.  Probably just bore them to death.  The timer went off, signaling that our metal was done.  I couldn’t believe my mom and television both lied to me.  We were all pretty pissed off so we decided to kill Tom for fun, steal his car, and go home and eat Smores.  Man, do I love Smores!

      Hey!  That essay didn’t go as nutty as I expected it too.  Oh well… So until next time kids… There is absolutely nothing dangerous about microwaves!  Except maybe uncontrollable fires.  Thanks.



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