Popcorn Apocalypse
It’s afternoon snack time!! I have just thrown in a bag of microwave popcorn when David calls to have me find a file. I run upstairs to find it, but immediately realize the folly in leaving unattended microwave popcorn, so I run back downstairs and ask Rissa to stand guard.
“Can you please listen for the popcorn? 2 seconds between pops.”
She rolls her eyes – immediately transforming into a 20-something who knows everything. “I know Mummy! I know how to make popcorn. I’ll get the popcorn.” She then gives a ‘you scoot’ gesture with her hand.
I head back upstairs. 2 minutes later I’m wondering if I’m having the beginnings of an epileptic fit. I’m smelling smoke. Acrid, eye-stinging, oily…
Rissa comes up the stairs…
“I might have, um… maybe just a little….” She collapses on the floor. “I can’t make popcorn!!! WAILEY, WAILEY, WAILEY!!!“
In my head, I’m remembering a conversation we had not three minutes before. “Dude! I just told you. You were right beside the microwave! You had to wait 45 seconds! What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was washing up dishes and then… then… WAILEY, WAILEY, WAILEY!!! I… I… I…
I CAN’T MAKE POPCORN!!!!“
You know how long the odour of scorched popcorn permeates your house? 48 hours. Plus, we now need a new microwave – it looks like vagrants used the inside of it to keep themselves warm before adding gasoline and allowing it to really spark up.
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| Rissa – in mid “WAILEY” |