Last night, the oven attacked me.

Or rather, the oven attacked my mini frozen pizza.

Twice.

The first time, I cooked it halfway in the microwave, then threw it in the oven to finish cooking and to crisp up the crust a little.

Everything was going great.

I looked inside. The cheese was melted, the crust looked good. Yummy.

I reach it…and something..happened.

The pizza tumbled from my hand, landing (of course) cheese side down on the hinge of the oven. On the left side.

I swore, grabbing for a wooden spoon to try and get most of the cheese gunk off before it burned.

Took a deep breath, and decided to try again. We had another pizza, I was hungry, and I saw what happened last time, so I should be able to handle it this time.

You see where this is going, right?

I precook the second one in the microwave, then pry it off of the little tray to stick it in the oven. As Im transferring from tray to oven rack, that gremlin grabs my hand again, and down it goes.

Right in the EXACT same spot.

Much more swearing and add in some throwing of things. And some snickering from Brandus, but Im ignoring him, because otherwise, Ill scream.

Brandus mocked my cooking abilities, and told me I wasnt allowed to use the oven for a while.

Fast forward to today.

Brandus decides to make cookies. Yay! Im munching on the last cookie of the first batch when he comes back into the living room and stares at me.

“Mmph?” I ask curiously.

“You’re in charge of the next batch.”

I blink, finish my cookie, then head into the kitchen to discover..

A huge blob of cookie dough in the hinges of the oven.

In the exact same place.