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Toronto's Shiniest Rock-and-Roll Band

Again (For the Worst Time)

The inside of my microwave.
I have accidentally started fires in my microwave before, but I think that I was less worthy of blame on this occasion than I was on all the smaller occasions. 
I had a couple of bags of popcorn in my room, and I decided to throw one in the microwave. Good times? What I forgot, however, was the fact that the popcorn store had recently started using a new type of bag that could be closed with clasps. Metal clasps. Metal clasps that don't look like metal.
At all.
That's the clasp I pulled out from one of the bags. Do you see any indication of metal? It basically just looks like a wrapped straw from a fast food place to me.
But within it lurks danger!
That's a terrible picture, but I ripped a part of the paper off to display a portion of the offending metal.
While the bag was in the microwave, I took the opportunity to fill up a glass of water. Having done this, I turn around to glimpse the familiar flashes of a microwave fire. The mug of water in my hand did not thoroughly douse it. Two full splashes from the larger mug in which I customarily keep random coins were required to put the little blaze out, and in the time this took, my smoke detector went off. Incidentally, this was around 2:00 in the morning. Fortunately, no one complained.
I have a theory about that.
A few weeks ago, I was quietly playing on an acoustic guitar in the middle of the night. The guy who lives beside me came over to bang on my door and threaten to call the police. A week ago, the same guy wandered into the building at midnight with a woman who added her own voice to his raucous laughter. Since then, their constant giggles and comically loud sexual acts can be heard across the first floor of the building. Since then, I have received no noise complaints. Actually, I don't think that I received any before that guitar thing, but I'm guessing that my neighbour has learned that it's actually pretty hard to be completely silent in this kind of apartment and accepted the fact that you get what you pay for. You have your sex, and I'll play my guitar. Rock-and-roll is my bride. From the sounds of things, I should probably admit that he seemed to be better at the making of love than I was at the playing of guitar, but that's really beside the point.
Anyway, I jumped onto my chair and attempted to find some way to deactivate the alarm, but my clumsy hands took over the task from my technologically ignorant mind and inadvertently succeeded by knocking the device off the ceiling. After that, it was merely a matter of removing the water and ash from my microwave. Apart from the burn marks, it looks pretty great now.
The bag of popcorn was ruined, but I tossed the other one in the microwave after removing the clasp and taking those pictures. The night improved after that.

Copyright © 2011, Jaymes Buckman and David Aaron Cohen. All rights reserved. In a good way.