psuedo nanowrimo dribble

the puss started oozing out of her left ring finger again.

ironically the burn was the shape of a heart.

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i know you took that moment to sing that backstreet boys song in your head. don't feel bad. i did too.

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there is this metal rack that lives on top of the toaster oven. they put things on top of the rack that they are too lazy to wash right away.
like pans.

last week she was separating her english muffins with a clear, plastic fork. they had ran out of regular silverware. then she put the muffins inside of the toaster oven and pressed the "brown enough to be crispy but not hard and burnt" button.

to her left there was the stove. she pulled the screaming kettle off of the burner and added that boiling water to the mint tea bag that was preoccupied contemplating its death inside the bottom of her coffee mug.

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why do they call them coffee mugs? she rarely drinks coffee out of them.

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he blows his burps away from his mouth like a careless drag off of a cigarette.

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right. back to the burn.
she came back from her tea mug and addressed the toaster oven. it burped at her in much of the same way he usually does. so she opened up the front and prepared to pull out her muffins.

however something was amiss. the dirty pans that were staying at the metal rack's place were sick of being dirty. so sick of their nasty, unclean lifestyle that they thought they would take the opportunity to end it all.

they jumped. and aimed right for her wedding ring. well. engagement ring. they weren't quite there yet. but the sentiment was there. the pans were bitter at the girl for being so happy. or rather, they thought she was happy... whether she really was happy or not really doesn't matter because the perception of the pans really is all that matters to the pans.

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so they jumped. and they wanted to take that ring down with them.

little did she know that the metal rack, through no fault of its own, became an accomplice to the suicidal pans.

you see, when the toaster oven does its thing... the rack can't help but become hot and bothered over such a display of masculinity. the heat generating between its legs caused the entire structure, including the pans, to become skin piercingly hot.

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she had excellent reflexes. she thought she'd save herself a bit of cleanup if she caught the pans and the rack before they hit counter top and went scattering her breakfast muffins and tea everywhere. so she raised her soon to be wedding ring up and let the pans fall onto the back of her hand.

a week and a bottle of neosporin later... her ring now lived on the middle shelf of the medicine cabinet. and a flesh colored band-aid tried to hide the burnt heart on her ring finger.