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 27 Nov 2003 @ 15:37, by tlangfield
For burnt offerings, preheat to 700 deg C...
I WAS OUT DRIVING MY TRUCK IN DEEPEST DARKEST DORSET WHEN I CAME ACROSS AN OVEN BY THE ROADSIDE, HITCHIKING - AS FORETOLD BY THE ANCIENTS . IT LOOKED LIKE HE WAS HAVING DIFFICULTY, FOR HE WAS WITHOUT THUMBS.
LO, HE DID CLIMB INTO THE CAB AND ACCEPT MY HUMBLE OFFERING OF AN EXTRA-STRONG MINT. SO DIVINE HE IS, LENGEND TELLS US, THAT HIS GREASY, FAT SPLATTERED BACK-LIGHT NEVER GOES OUT. HE SPOKE UNTO ME IN TONGUES FOR SOME TIME BEFORE WE ESTABLISHED A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING. HE WAS IN FLIGHT. FLEEING FROM OPPRESSION AT THE 'HANDS' OF A HOSTILE GROUP OF WASHING MACHINES. TOKEN VILLAINS - BRONZE TOKEN VILLAINS. BACK IN THE TIME OF REST THE OVEN HAD MISJUDGED HIS FINANCES DURING A POKER GAME. HIS INABILITY TO PAY CAUSED A RESURGENCE OF VIOLENCE BETWEEN THE TWO CASTES OF APPLIANCES - WASHING AND COOKING. IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE BLAME FOR THESE INCIDENTS WOULD FALL TO THE FISCALLY-CHALLENGED COOKER. SO HE FLED, GUIDED ONLY BY EMR FROM THE DIVINE RATCHET SCREWDRIVER - FIXER OF ALL THINGS. HIS JOURNEY WAS AN ARDUOUS ONE, BUT NOW HE KNEW IT WAS REACHING ITS END. AS WE PASSED WINCANTON ON THE 303 THE OVEN DID PROVIDE. FOR UNBEKNOWNST TO ME HE HAD BEEN BAKING YUMMY SCONES.
I COULD HARDLY BELIEVE THAT I WAS THE ONE WHO WOULD HAVE THE HONOUR OF ESCORTING THE OVEN TO THE END OF HIS EPIC JOURNEY. OF COURSE, LEGEND HAS IT THAT "BEHOLD, A TRUCKER FROM YEOVIL SHALT BE HIS FINAL GUIDE, AND NEITHER BY YARDSTICK NOR LEMONGRASS MAY HE BE MEASURED...", BUT I'D ASSUMED THAT WAS JUST ARTISTIC LANGUAGE; CODE FOR SOMETHING INCOMPREHENSIBLE TO US MORTALS. THE FACT IT HAD BEEN SO LITERAL CAME AS QUITE A REVELATION TO ME.
AFTER MANY MILES I KNEW THAT OUR JOURNEY HAD COME TO AN END. I LEFT THE OVEN AT THE SCRAP METAL YARD. I WATCHED AS HIS BACK-LIGHT FLICKERED AND FADED BEFORE GOING ON MY WAY. I KNEW THIS WAS HIS DESTINY; I DID NOT LAMENT HIS PASSING.
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Category: Recreation, Fun
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