So You Think I Can't Ruin...Lean Cuisine. Part Two.

I was explaining this story to a friend of mine the other day and didn't get a sentence into it. All I said was: "I was trying to outsmart the Lean Cuisines the other day-" when she started laughing. But it's true: I appear to be dumber than a frozen meal.

After a number of other attempts with the meat bag exploding before it was finished and seeping all over the place, I decided that the best place for the meat bag was in the middle of the microwave, so it would at least heat evenly before exploding. It always exploded in the second part of the heating, once the vegetable bag has been added. SO...I had finally worked out a system. I'd heat the meat part according to the instructions, in the middle of the microwave, but then instead of ADDING the vegetables, I'd cook them by themselves, then heat the meat later in a different container to prevent the explosion.

That was the deal. That was what me and the spitting death bags had worked out. But then I found the Cheese and Cracked Pepper Chicken with pasta.

This fucker exploded before it's first two minutes were up. It didn't even wait until the veggies were added. And the meat was still frozen inside the boiled sauce! When I opened the microwave, so much of the sauce had oozed out, it had covered half the microwave's plate and dripped out the front. Incensed, I flung the veggies with the meat and slammed the door shut, starting it up again. Fuck it, I'd just scrape the slop off the tray. I stalked off and started angrily punching buttons on the TV remote, drowning out the squeals of steam escaping in the kitchen. Good, let the bastard suffer.

It was the cracking noises that got my attention. When you don't know what you're listening to, it sounds a little like someone hitting a desk with a ruler, from two classrooms away. I was accustomed to strange sounds (and smells) emanating from my kitchen, but this was new.

I walked in to discover an electric light show occurring in my microwave. Flashes of electricity arced inside, and the microwave's interior light flickered. Sheltering under a pillow, I charged the offending white good and stabbed the cancel button. I debated simply throwing the whole thing away instead of having to open the door, but hunger won and I hesitantly peered inside. The seeping sauce over the front of the interior was sandwiched between the box itself and the door. For some reason, this angered the radiation gods and they had sent lightning to punish me. When I later cleaned the chickeney interior, I found scorch marks on the inside.

The meal itself wasn't bad. At least the meat wasn't raw anymore. I still use the microwave.