New Home, New Fears

So I’ve moved into a shiny new apartment.

And it is shiny.

Very shiny.

It’s a gorgeous apartment and I love it. The unfortunate part of it, is I’m the only one here at the moment. I will have three roommates, but due to poor timing, they won’t be moving in until later and I’m here by myself until then.

Regardless, I’ve two decks, one of which overlooks the city, in-unit washer/drier, an amazing bathtub and shower, and even a NINJA KITCHEN!

So what am I so afraid of? I suppose being late for class, as I do live a bit further from campus than I did before. Break-ins are always a worry, though I think living on the third floor and making sure doors are locked will more or less keep that fear at bay.

What I’m really afraid of, is the stove. And oven. It’s this giant monstrous thing that looks rather at home in the otherwise lovely kitchen. My roommates love it. I find it menacing.

AH MUNNA EACHU!Perhaps it should be said I grew up with an electric stove. I didn’t encounter my first gas stove until I moved to uni. This stove is gas, and the flame is larger than the any pot/pan I own. I know my cookware is small, I’m small too, but this stove makes them look miniscule. It also makes me feel significantly smaller, which brings me to my next point…

Did you ever get the feeling that something or someone was plotting your demise? Like a cat. Did you ever find a cat staring at you in a certain way that you just know it was thinking of how best to kill you? Yeah, that’s how this stove looks at me. Except unlike a cat, this stove doesn’t want to kill me in the you-need-to-die-so-I-can-rule-the-world kind of way. This stove, just wants to kill me. Or eat me. I think it wants to eat me. Alive.

It’s like the plant in Little Shop of Horrors, but it feeds off of my fear instead of my blood. It’s all fun and games sitting there, feigning insentience, laughing at my fear, until one day I decide to bake some cookies, open the oven and… CHOMP!


I wonder what would happen in a match, feline versus possessed stove…

As an aside: I’ve made a new life goal to write a theme song for myself. That, or become so awesome someone writes a theme song for me. Each of these is equally as improbable.


About Squishy

Writer, dancer, gamer, and admirer of all that is beautiful.

Posted on May 8, 2011, in Real Life. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. Perhaps, if you feel the need to bake cookies in the belly of this behemoth, some particularly good cookies might sate its appetite enough to spare you. Conversely, putting the souls of orphans into the batter is also a valid strategy. Whatever works.

  2. Thaumaturgist

    If the cookies and orphans fail, get a feline and let it take care of the Stove of Horror. My bets on any four-legged supposedly harmless creature…

  3. You shouldn’t be too concerned unless Rod Serling (in his full black-and-white tv glory) passes through and says something about you baking cookies “… in the Twilight Zone.”

  4. Ah, now we both suffer from being haunted by inanimate objects…or in my case, places. I feel for you.

    Just don’t exorcise it or it might become like that industrial laundry press from the Mangler by Stephen King! *shudders* You wouldn’t want that oven running around the apartment!

  5. I know you’re still probably very busy (I’ve missed reading your new posts), but I just wanted to take a second to thank you for solidifying my interest in blogging (and NaNoWriMo). I don’t think I would have stuck with it without meeting you. As a token of my gratitude, I would like to pass an award on to you. ( Hope everything’s going well with you.

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