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.

Rissa – in mid “WAILEY”

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