Dear Stove,

You are a jerk.  All I wanted was to cook my stupid (but absolutely delicious) pizza.  I dreamed about it all day–planned it on the subway.  I even suffered carrying some supplies home with the heavy load I was already carrying.  But no.  I had to microwave it because you didn’t work.

AND I had to pan-cook my french fries.  May brownies explode inside you.


The chick glad that nothing works (including, apparently, the smoke alarm).

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