“At last!” his voice boomed from his lab. “It is COMPLETE!”

“What’d you make this time,” she asked tiredly. She peered through the doorway, but knew better than to try stepping inside. Last time, she’d been bright green for a week.

“The ultimate microwave! Ahahahaha!”

“Why can’t you make death rays and killer robots like a normal mad scientist?”

He gave her a hurt look. “I’m sure it’s a fine ultra-microwave,” she added hastily, gesturing with her free hand towards the device filling the center of the room. It looked more like a miniature nuclear reactor than a microwave, which, knowing him, it might have been. “It’s, uh, ominous. Evil-y. Very mad science-y. I’m sure a hero will be here any second to punch it in two.”

“If only,” he said wistfully, and then seemed to notice what she was carrying. “What’s that?”

“Oh. Uh, left-over orzo from last night. Want some?”

He ran through the obstacle course of the room to grab the bowl. “Perfect!”

“I figured you’d be hungry, since – hey, what are you doing? I already heated it up.”

He shoved it into the belly of the machine, closing several blast doors over it. “It can be hotter.”

“Please don’t play with your food.”

But the machine was already whirring, dials spinning, lights flashing, steam pouring from a vent.

“Yes! YES!” he shouted, arms raised in victory, dancing in place. She just ducked behind the blast-proof wall as a series of small explosions rocked the building.

She glanced around the wall as the machine opened, releasing a rush of steam and a tiny, bright lump which quickly melted through the floor. And the ground underneath, soon vanishing out of sight on its way to the center of the earth.

“China syndrome,” he said with a sigh, staring after the disappeared orzo.

“This is why we don’t have matching plates anymore.”