> The Magic of Microwaves
>  by Good Christian Ethesto
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Roasty Toasty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	A sharp series of 'clops' echoed around the house, ruining any hope you previously had of sleeping in 'til noon. Perhaps it was some primal, animalistic instinct, but the inhabitants of this town had an uncanny habit of waking up early for who knows what reason. In a brief act of defiance, you push your partially-drool-coated pillow over your head, attempting to drown out the outside world. Alas, it was not to be, and after a few moments, the fiend at the door continued its noise making with renewed enthusiasm. Louder and faster than before was the clopping. 

There was no hope for you. The pursuit of sleep, like so many of your dreams prior, had been squashed by these miniature horses. Do not ask for whom the horse knocks. It knocks for thee. 

With utmost grace, you rose from your mattress prison, no longer bound by cushion, you would rain doom upon the heads of all mortals. By which I mean, you groggily limped your way to the front door to see what all the ruckus was about. The knocks kept coming, ever-growing louder, until you finally reached the portal and thrust the big, wooden rectangle open with your mighty hands. Your pupils were immediately invaded by huge molecules of light, much too large and bright for your tastes, and you had to blink a few times to clear them from your eyes. 

After literally billions of nano seconds, you managed to compose yourself enough to see who, or what was at the door. You couldn't decide if you'd even consider these annoying little horses people. They certainly weren't humans. Looking down, you made eye contact with the tiny little horse, no larger than a fat cat, standing at your door. Its face distorted into what you could only assume was the horse version of a smile as it looked at you almost innocently. 

After a brief sigh to calm yourself, you decided to address the issue. 

"What?" You weren't going to beat around the bush with this one. Judging by its purple color scheme, this one was Twilight Sparkle. She had made it a habit to bother you from time to time after she caught you mowing the lawn with your "magical grass eater", as she so elegantly described it. 

"Hello, friend," she began, only for you to roll your eyes in the most dramatic way possible, letting out yet another sigh, this one long and obnoxious enough to cut her off from what she was going to say. "What?" This time it was her asking.

"We're not even friends," you explain. You're a lone wolf. Far too cool to be seen with micro horses. What kind of disgusting freak would be interested in those? "Anyway, get to the point," you continued before she could start yet another rant about friendship and other idiocy. You were about two seconds from shutting the door in her face should that happen.

Having learned better than to be led on by your obnoxious behavior, Twilight decided not to push the issue, and instead jumped right into her reason for being here. Reaching back with inhuman dexterity, she stuck one of her primary walking appendages back into her tail, rummaging around in her secret tail compartment. After a moment, she pulled whatever it was she was looking for out and presented it to you. It was a piece of paper, stuck to the little sticky hairs on the bottom of her crisp leg-tip. Naturally, it was what was written down on the paper that was important. 

Pulling out your reading glasses, or perhaps not if you're a straight white cis male who needs to check his eyesight privilege, you fixed your peepers on the little sheet she held. Since she clearly thought you were retarded, she felt it necessary to explain what the words on the paper meant in layhorse's terms. 

"It's a warrant," she began, "from Princess Celestia. I've been talking to her about your magical artifacts you're keeping hidden, and she agreed that you should show them all to me so I can properly evaluate them to make sure they're not a danger. Before you slam the door in my face again, know that this is a royal decree, and resistance is not advised."

You could honestly care less about their horse hierarchy, but you realized they'd probably just keep getting on your nerves if you just slammed the door in her face now. You didn't like the idea of getting woken up yet again, this time by a group of tiny horse S.W.A.T members trying to break down your door. Or perhaps they'd just use a trojan horse to trick you into letting them in. As if the thought of horses wasn't bad enough. We're talking horses in horses! You put a hand to your face, rubbing your temples in a clear sign of annoyance as you have trouble showing your feelings in normal, non-over-the-top ways. Perhaps it's because you're a character in a cartoon. That would explain pretty much everything.

With such troubling thoughts on your mind, you finally relented. "Fine, you can come in. But don't touch anything with your gross, horse feet."

"They're called hooves," she said condescendingly as she waddled her way inside as though she owned the place, paper still awkwardly stuck to her front leg. "Now then, show me the magical artifacts."

It seems this tiny horse had you at her mercy. Truly you are the most pathetic of huemans. "Right this way," you instructed, walking into the kitchen and yawning. You still weren't fully awake as you made your way over to the counter and leaned on it. "So, this is the kitchen."

She looked at you as though you were autism incarnate. "I got that." Heck, you didn't know how these deranged horses lived. You'd made it clear you wanted nothing to do with them, yet they continued to pester you just because your house was right outside their little horse town. Trotting over to the fridge, she tapped on its stainless steel exterior a few times before she seemed to realize what it was. "This must be a magical ice box. It took a second to recognize with its massive size. I'm surprised you can afford one."

'Magical ice box' pretty much explained what a refrigerator is anyway, so you just nodded. Deciding to humor her to get this over with as quickly as possible so you could perhaps salvage what remained of the morning to nap, you moved on to the next item. "This is a toaster," you explained, pointing up at the counter. "You use it to burn bread."

Once again she gave you a stupid look. "I know what a magic toast cooker is, I wasn't born yesterday. Show me what you're hiding. I know you've got other magical devices around here somewhere." Looking around briefly, her eyes locked onto your microwave, and she flapped her wings, flying up and landing on the counter with her gross little horse feet. It was just straight up weird that these tiny horses also had little wings, and stubby little nipple-like horns. Ordinary-human horses didn't have those. Perhaps they were part bird or something. You briefly hoped that, unlike birds, they had anuses. The last thing you needed was Twilight crapping all over the place. 

"What is this box thing? Do you keep something special inside?"

It would appear horses had yet to learn of the true magical potential of microwaves. You were about to give a half-assed explanation of how a microwave works (because, let's be honest here, who actually knows how a microwave works?), when you had an idea. An awful idea. You got a wonderful, awful idea. With the smuggest grin you've ever spawned, you decided to take her for a ride. 

"Oh that?" You started. "I'm surprised someone as well-informed as yourself doesn't know what that is."

She gave you a look, clearly not enthused in the slightest. "Stop being a smart donkey and explain how it works," she demanded. 

Your smugness only grew as you pushed the button, popping open the door. "You see, it's a magical, two-way portal to my homeland," you completely bullshit on the spot. "Go ahead and step inside and I'll show you how it works."

She clearly wasn't buying it that easy. "If it's a portal to your home, why is it so small?" 

Thinking fast, you countered her vlogic with some flogic of your own. "That one is for babies, the bigger one is upstairs." Realizing that she'd likely come up with another question you decided to hastily add more details. "The magic dose from that is too much for someone of your size, so I'd suggest using this one." 

She looked at you suspiciously for a moment before finally relenting and taking a step inside the microwave. Thankfully, you had a pretty big microwave, as far as microwaves went, and she managed to fit inside, albeit snuggly. "Alright now, I'm gonna close the door, then I'll turn it on. It'll take a few minutes to charge up, so just stay still, alright?" 

"Uh, okay," she relented, looking somewhat uncomfortable in the cramped box. You took this opportunity to close it and push '9' a few times before pressing start. The microwave's inside lit up with the familiar buzzing that meant whatever complex, alien machinery lay at its core was somehow making things heat up. Humans are truly amazing for making such a wondrous thing, assuming it wasn't stolen alien technology all along. 

After about thirty seconds, Twilight was clearly getting very uncomfortable. "It's getting really warm in here," she yelled, squirming a bit to get into a better position. 

"That just means it's working. It's a bit uncomfortable, so just bear with it." 

She apparently decided to take your word as she closed her eyes and tried to ignore the growing discomfort. After less than thirty more seconds it looked like she was unable to do so anymore. "It's really, really hot in here!" She cried as she began thrashing around wildly. "Turn it off, I want out! I want out!" 

"It's working as intended," you reassured while pressing your hand against the door to ensure that she didn't push her way out. "It'll just be a few more minutes, then I'll be able to show you all kinds of neat things from my home." At this point she didn't even seem to be listening as her thrashing had increased in strength and she began screaming. It was even more annoying than her constant knocking on your door. Just the thought of how annoying she was just made you so angry. You couldn't help but get a cruel smile as you held the door closed, somewhat enjoying that it was you causing her discomfort for once instead of the other way around. 

"Please, please!" She cried, her horn sparking with a purple light that clashed with the soft yellow light of the microwave. "Let me out! It burns! I don't want to learn about your things any more!"

But her cries fell on deaf ears. You simply watched in morbid fascination as she ignited, the inside of the microwave filling with smoke. Then suddenly it exploded.

You got up off the floor after a few moments, your ears still ringing. Or perhaps that was the fire alarm. The kitchen was a mess. Pieces of microwave and Twilight littered the floor. And walls. And ceiling. Looking at yourself, you weren't too bad off, aside from some singed arm hair and probably eyebrows as well. With your third sigh of the day, you realized you'd have to clean all this up. Not to mention your microwave was kill. Oh well, you'd get to it later. For now, it was time for a nap.