One of my children, who shall remain unnamed, has apparently inherited my tendency for culinary disasters. Seemingly unaware of The Awesome Power of the 4 Billion Watt Microwave, the child decided today to heat a brownie on high for a minute or so. Upon opening the microwave, which is about the size of small toaster but which has enough nuclear power to obliterate a VW Beetle in 37.6 seconds flat, a smoke cloud the size of Utah immediately filled our house, and, when we opened windows and doors, created a smallish mushroom cloud over our 8 acre property.
Because the incinerated brownie was still smoking, I carried it, on the plate, outdoors. My fifteen year old son, who 1) is impressed with anything that might burst into flame and require a visit by the fire department, and 2) believes we should have pictoral documentation of every one of his siblings' goof-ups, ran to get the camera. I had to admit that it's not every day you see a chocolate goodie turned into a charcoal briquet right before your very eyes, even when I'm cooking. Here's the evidence, after it quit smoldering:
Because the brownie now had the consistency of a cement block, I was going to chuck it over the fence, but my boys had a better idea - Brownie Ball. No point in letting a perfectly good projectile go to waste. Why didn't I think of that?
(If you look carefully, you can see three canines eagerly awaiting the brownie briquet's thudding return to earth. Little did they know how inedible it was. Even our black lab, a chewing machine who has been known to eat metal fence posts, gave up on it after a minute or two.)
I'm happy to report that the brownie-turned-sporting equipment held up for a full game of Brownie Ball and also served well as a hockey puck. The last time I saw it, my son was using it as a splitting maul out by the woodpile. My only regret is that I didn't try to blast it open with some explosives. I suspect there might have been a diamond in the center of that piece of rock-hard carbon.