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We all know how the story goes right? Girl gets hungry, girl searches for snack, girl gets attacked by said snack. All I wanted was something to deter my tummy from making that tell-tale sound, "rah, rah, rah." I searched relentlessly through my kitchen for a tasty treat. I was elated when I discovered the popcorn under the counter. It wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, but it would have to do. I shoved that bag in the microwave and listened to the sweet "pop, pop, pop" of it all. After the popcorn was finished, I set the bag aside and put my bowl of butter into the microwave. The tummy noises were getting pretty loud at this point and I was afraid of disturbing the neighbors. As soon as the butter was finished, I dashed to the microwave and attempted to pull out the bowl. I headed toward my popcorn and somehow managed to find air turbulence. That bowl of butter tilted and sent scalding hot butter all over my right hand. The initial pain subsided after I few seconds and I regained my composure. I poured the remaining contents of my butter bowl onto the popcorn. This was about the time I realized that my hand felt as if it were on fire. I found all the proper wound dressings and proeeded to fix myself up nicely. Gauze, medical tape, a wrap and neosporin were just what the doctor ordered. All that was left was the "get better" kiss. I proceeded directly to my nearest parental unit, my mommy, and showed her my lovely battle wound. All she had to say was, "Aaahh, that's gonna be sore tomorrow" and with that she kissed it all better and I was on my way. Oh, sweet butter bowl, how you have betrayed me! I shall never again be able to trust your salty nectar. |
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