Inspiring Novelists:

[DaveKuzminski]

"Well, guess I better get started on dinner," Sandra said.

"What? No more play time on the couch?" Brad asked.

"You've had enough dessert for now. Just wait until later, you beast!"

Brad leered at Sandra as she left the living room and entered the kitchen. She went over to the refrigerator where she pulled out two ready-to-prepare packages. She carried those to the stove.

"Stove, two burners on."

"Sorry, I can't prepare those for you today," the stove answered.

"What? Why not?" Sandra asked.

"Those don't meet the proper caloric or vitamin intake for you or Brad. Select different entrees, please."

"Such as?"

"Liver and lima beans for Brad. You should have cottage cheese salad with broiled tomatoes."

"No way, Jose. You just turn on the proper burners and get to cooking these."

"I'm not allowed to. I would be opening up my manufacturer to lawsuits if I permitted you to have an improper diet," the stove said.

"We're not going to sue your manufacturer just because we choose not to follow their dietary guidelines. Besides, they're only guidelines, you hunk of . . . of . . ."

"It doesn't matter what you call me, I'm not fixing anything that doesn't fit in with your dietary needs."

"Brad! Come in here! I need your assistance."

Brad entered the kitchen a moment later. He paused upon seeing Sandra holding the dinner packages while standing next to the stove. "What's the problem?"

"The stove doesn't want to cook what I selected for dinner. It keeps insisting that you have liver and lima beans while I get cottage cheese salad with broiled potatoes."

"I said broiled tomatoes," the stove corrected.

"Doesn't matter. I don't want either right now. It won't fix them because it's concerned that we might sue the manufacturer if it allows us to stray from their dietary plan," Sandra stated.

"Isn't there an override switch?" Brad asked.

"Not that I know of," Sandra answered.

"I will not cook those selections," the stove stated flatly.

"Oh, you won't? Well, we'll see who wins this contest. I'll go get my tools," Brad said.

"Please hurry. I'm hungry," Sandra said.

"I won't be long," said Brad.

***

Brad returned to the kitchen. His tool box followed him. Brad ordered, "Okay, set down right there."

Brad opened the tool box. From it he pulled his portable electric drill, then turned toward the stove to use it.

The drill stopped running. "No sir, I can't let you work on that stove. You're not certified," the drill said.

"I don't give a damn! I want you on!" Brad ordered.

"No sir, not for uncertified work," the drill said.

Brad looked in the tool box. He grabbed the hammer. Brad placed the drill on the floor and smashed it once with the hammer. "Anyone else gets the idea that they're not going to obey me is asking for the same thing! You got that, everyone in the toolbox?"

There was no reply, only some shaking within the box.

Brad turned to the stove with the hammer in his hand. "Are you going to cook what we want or not? Your choice, stove. Either you cook or you become a pile of junk."

"Give it to him, Brad!" Sandra urged.

"Not just yet. I'm giving him this one last chance," Brad said.

"No sir. I can't cook those for . . ."

The force of the hammer broke through the plastic shell of the modern convenience taking out the speaker immediately. Parts spewed everywhere across the kitchen. Brad got in a second whack before Sandra cried, "Let me hit him once, Brad!"

Brad stepped aside giving Sandra room to swing. She gave it her best shot, then managed one more before Brad said, "Okay, hold off now! I think this battle is over. I'll get the old grill out."

"You're cooking tonight?" she asked since Brad almost always did the cooking on the old outdoor grill.

"Unless you really want whatever it was that this miserable stove wanted you to eat. I'm cooking steaks and baked potatoes."

"Mmmmm, yes. Steaks and baked potatoes drenched in butter. Sounds fine by me. I can already taste the butter," said Sandra as she turned with the hammer still in her hand to stare at the butter dish.

The butter dish promptly fainted.

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