The Honey Disaster

It was a cold day in November and I decided that I wanted some warm honeyed pears for a snack. I had seen the honey that morning in the fridge while making breakfast and had been craving it all day. So I closed my book and went to the kitchen. Opening the fridge I quickly found both a pair and the honey, it was as if they were calling my name. I placed the pear and the honey on the counter behind me, grabbing a knife and a cutting board in the process. The pear was deftly cut into fourths and relieved of its seeds within minutes.

In triumph I grasped the honey and attempted to pour it over the decimated pear. The grin slowly faded from my face, turning into a look of annoyance. I shook the bottle vigorously; the honey would not come out. Pursing my lips in frustration I noticed a small paper sticker on the side of the bottle. It disrupted the smoothness of the rest of the bottle. It had to go. Using my fingernails I peeled it off and stuck it to the counter.

Still looking at the bottle I wondered at what I should do. Then it came to me. I had a microwave! Dancing a victory dance in the direction of the microwave I felt a sense of superiority come over me. I'd show that honey. Still dancing a little I placed the offending honey in the microwave and set it for two minutes, so it would get nice and hot. Then I remembered that I had left my book within the grasp of my fiendish cat. I rushed back to my room to check on the status of my prized copy of "Uncle Tom's Cabin." It was still intact but, not wanting to take my chances, I placed it out of reach of my cat. Slightly less panicked I headed back to the kitchen. As if it had been expecting me the microwave sounded as I entered the kitchen.

I strode over to the fallen enemy feeling superior in every way. This feeling was not to last. Inside the microwave the bottle was gushing honey like Old Faithful. Desperate to save the microwave I grabbed at the treacherous bottle. Honey seared my hands, resentful of my attempt to salvage victory from the jaws of defeat. I set the honey on the counter next to the bowl of pear. Wincing, I rinsed the microwave off with a sponge. My mom entered at that point, luckily for me she is quite accepting of my cooking experiments. She glanced at the previously disregarded sticker that I had peeled off with amusement. "And what part of 'Do not place in microwave,' did you not get?" I decided to go with my customary response. "Um..." I said, and accompanied it with an innocent smile. Shaking her head she exited the war zone that our kitchen had become.

With a sigh I picked up the decimated bottle and poured my honey over the pears. I then put the whole bowl in the microwave and rinsed off the bottle. When I heard the beep I knew that my prize was ready. Taking out a fork I retrieved my bowl and headed back to my room. This is why you should never trust me with household appliances. Or honey. Or food for that matter.