One of my classmates came into the graduate student lounge today at 11:38, ready to eat lunch before class at noon. Upon pulling her Marie Callender's chicken pot pie out of the freezer (I need to teach these people how to cook real food, but that's beside the point) she was shocked to see that it required 14 minutes to cook in the microwave.
After whining about the situation for 4 minutes, Ms. Too-Young-to-Be-a-Graduate-Student devised a solution to her pot pie problem. Instead of cooking it for 14 minutes on medium power, she would cook it for 7 minutes on full power! Genius!
The first thing I noticed was the smell. The second thing I noticed, when she took her once-pot-pie out of the microwave, was that it had disintegrated into a pile of chicken pie goo. It was now 11:49. That pie needed time to cool down. But time was the only thing The Pie Maker didn't have.
Having no other option, she was forced to eat her pile of steaming goo. I relished every moment thereafter; "ow!"s and "hot!"s escaped her mouth while the chicken and carrot ooze entered it. "I guess you can't just double the power and cut the time in half!" she said, the scorching pie exaggerating her intermittent speech impediment.
"No shit," I said, loud enough for everyone but her to hear me as I ate the last bite of my homemade chicken salad sandwich.
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