The Joyous Partner the Microwave

the joyous partner the microwave it has become my chef alas not quite my mother's hand but for its swiftness of foot there is no other yes i survive on the TV dinner oh dear Lord i have shown my age frozen until my vittles need calling it is a world of the chophouse from a hashery where most dine no fuss, just plain celerity needed those exquisite tastes, hidden within lucious noodles and sauces from white to red and should that become a disaster there is always ketchup Siracha, Hot Mustard, Orange, Honey it is almost endless for Asia the frozen dinner section sublime those long rows packaged and waiting almost a walk in the Lourve of paintings as you ogle those reflections in frosted doors i become a child on Christmas morning Master Chef in TV Dinnerland the trick is in the additions a tad of salsa, or perhaps sour cream of course scads of butter on taters A1 or H57 sauce on the meatloaf, or Salisbury in the vegetable department a loverly chopped, ready-to-go medley of onion, celery, and carrot jalapenos, green chilis, olives come already in cans chopped simply sprinkle on at last minute but the greatest joy held in my heart is when i place the holy offering i would never eat, retrieved from garbage into that loverly microwave always upon a microwave-safe plate gently affixing an impediment to door wait for that loverly moment when that pesky fly enters to dine slam the door in most haste hit that 3-minute button nothing more civilized than well done then wait for that pure joy when the whistling, whirling stop light goes off, and the wonderful ding, ding, ding of a job well done let the philosophers and theologians go on, and on about revenge but i vote it is best when microwaved loverly i say OKC 7/01