This is my second time participating in Emily's and Ashley G's wonderful monthly writing link up. I had a lot of fun participating last month, so here I am this month. This month's prompt is a line of dialog:
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are doing?!" I shout at my friend.
He's in the middle of sticking a styrofoam cup in the microwave - my microwave.
He turns his head and looks at me, surprised by my outburst. I'm not the sort to get worked up easily, so if I'm shouting he knows it's for a good reason. "Uh, I was going to melt some chocolate in the microwave." It sounds more like a question.
"Do you know what could happen if you turned that on?!"
By my tone and expression, he can tell I'm serious, but he can't help himself. "I'd have melted chocolate by now?"
I stare at him for a second. How does he not know this? Did he forget? "Remember that time in high school when we had a fire drill, and the fire department actually came and we had to freeze outside for, like, an hour before we could go back in?" I figure that that will jog his memory.
He raises an eyebrow at at me. Apparently not.
"Yeah, that wasn't a drill."
Slowly, the "drill" in question comes to him. I can tell that he's trying to work out how that could possibly relate to what's going on now. I decide to clue him in. I guess, he didn't hear the details behind that one. Oh well, it's a good story.
"Remember Life Skills class?"
He nods. "In middle school, right? When we learned the basics of cooking and sewing and stuff? I think I still have my fuzzy dice..."
Before he gets too off topic, I continue. "We didn't take the advanced high school classes, but you could also take more in-depth units on cooking, and all of that. I heard that the high school unit started off the same way as the middle school one."
By where I'm going with this, I think it's starting to dawn on him. "Fried eggs and microwave caramel popcorn?"
"Yep. Well, the teacher decided they should kick the popcorn up a notch by drizzling melted chocolate over it."
"I know, right? Dumb thing was she busted up a Hershey bar, put the pieces in a styrofoam coffee cup, and stuck it in the classroom microwave for thirty seconds. Momentary insanity, I guess."
He's right on the verge of connecting the dots between the not-a-drill and chocolate drizzled microwave caramel popcorn, and what he was trying to do a minute ago.
Sometimes he can be so thick. "Styrofoam and microwaves don't get along. The chocolate melted alright, right along with the cup before it caught fire. Of course, the entire microwave burst into flames, the smoke detectors went off tripping the fire drill, we all filed outside and froze our butts off while the firefighters took care of everything."
He stares at me dumbfounded as I reach past him into the microwave and grab the offending cup. I polish off the squares of chocolate as I head back toward the living room couch. As I sit down, I look at him over my shoulder and say, "The moral of this story is: Please stop putting things in my microwave."