Okay.

So, look.

Mary Ellen is gone off with a friend
for two days on a foliage-viewing excursion to Mount Washington in
New Hampshire.

I have plans to go out to eat tonight
with friends.

But last night I had no plans.

I had briefly considered a KFC bucket
for dinner, but after the last fiasco, where I came home with a
16-piece bucket of extra crispy and Fritz The Dog ended up stealing
14 of the pieces, I decided against it.

Plus, my good friend Casey, who is a
vegetarian, pleaded with me not to succumb to the siren call of
“modified bird meat.”

So that left me having to contend with.
. . The Stove! (BWAAA-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

It is a new stove. A nice stove. Gas stove. General Electric stove
. With a griddle and everything on the top.

I have used the stovetop burners to cook our weekend breakfasts many
times. But I had never used the oven before. But how difficult could
it be?

. . .

SO, what's for supper? I decided to make Shake 'N' Bake chicken over
wild rice.

Simple.

I read the directions on the side of the Shake 'N' Bake box, and
tried to set temperature on the control panel of the stove.

(There is no such thing as simply turning a dial to the desired
temperature on this thing. You have to hit the right buttons and
then answer questions that appear on the display screen...seriously.
The freaking thing carries on a conversation with you.)

The first choice I had to make was, do I want to bake or broil? Well,
the product is Shake 'N' Bake, so . . . Bake.

The next question was, “What temperature would you like?”

I looked at the box again and saw “170 degrees Fahrenheit.

I typed in “170”.

The stove then said, “Thank you.”

Then, I went about putting the Shake 'N' Bake stuff in the little
plastic bag, put in the washed chicken breast, and shook my little
heart out until the meat was coated. I then deposited the chicken on
a non-greased cookie sheet and turned back to the stove. I opened
the oven door . . . and the oven was stone cold.

WTF?

I looked at the stove's display screen, and it said, “Hit the start button . . .stupid!”

I hit the start button, and immediately the display screen
showed me the present temperature inside the oven. I watched as that
number increased. When it hit the desired cooking temperature, it
beeped three times and began flashing the number. I opened the oven
door, and sure enough, I could feel the heat.

Then I saw another button on the stove's control panel that said,
Cooking Timer.

The instructions on the box said the meat should cook for 20 minutes.

I typed in “2...0”.

This time I was smart enough to hit the start button without
having to be ridiculed by the machine.

I then slid the chicken into the oven, shut the door and started to
walk away. I got no more than a few steps when suddenly the stove
started beeping, flashing, farting, and shooting sparklers high into
air.

Again, WTF?

I looked at the stove's display, and it said, “Baking Cycle
Complete. Enjoy your meal!”

You gotta be kidding me!

I opened the oven door, and, of course, the meat was as raw as
roadkill.

Then, I saw the temperature on the display panel begin to drop.

At that point, I figured out that I had set the timer for 20 seconds,
not 20 minutes.

So, I had to punch in all the data once again. When the stove
reached the proper cooking temperature, I typed in “2...0...0...0”
on the timer, hit start, and then waited 20 seconds. When nothing
happened, I walked away.

20 minutes later, I returned, turned off the timer with it's annoying
beeping, and took the chicken out of the oven.

I cut into it, and it was like I was performing surgery. Everything
on the inside was pink and bloody and cold.

I stuck the thing back in the oven, typed in all the numbers again,
hit the start button, waited 20 seconds, and then walked away
again.

20 minutes later, the brass band in the kitchen started blaring away
again, so I ran in, turned off the damned timer, removed the chicken
from the oven, cut into it again, and . . . cold as a dead body!

I glared at the stove through slitted eyes. What the hell was the
matter with this thing???

This time, I punched in the numbers on the keypad so hard that I
almost sprained my button-pushing finger. (Like increased pressure
was somehow going to make a difference.) I then yanked open the oven
door, threw the cookie sheet holding the chicken into the gaping maw,
slammed the door shut, hit the fucking start button yet
a-fucking-gain, and walked away! (Insanity is doing the same
thing over and over again and expecting different results, right?)

20 goddamned minutes later, I
flew back into the kitchen and stopped the Sousa march that was
blasting away by punching the stop button
on the timer with my clenched fist. I removed the chicken from the
oven, cut into it, and . . .

GOD DAMN IT!!!!!!!!!!

I was ready to call P.C. Richards and Son, the store where we bought
this stove, and tell them to come and get their piece of shit before
I take it out into the pasture and beat the living hell out of it
with a 9-pound sledgehammer! As I was reaching for the phone, another
thought struck me; re-read the directions on the Shake 'N' Bake
package, in case I misread them the first time.

So, with the phone in one hand, I grabbed the box and read the
directions one more time.

AH-HAH! I was right! RIGHT THERE it says that I should cook the
chicken for 20 minutes!

Now, where does it say 170 degrees Fahrenheit?

RIGHT THERE!!!!!! It says, “The internal temperature of the chicken
should reach 170 degrees Fahrenheit!!!!!!

. . .

Wait a minute...

Internal temperature???

Ut-oh!

Just above that, were printed the damning words, “Pre-heat oven to
400 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Oh.

I looked at the phone in my other hand.

Never mind!.

I looked over at Smokey The Cat who was sitting on the butcher block
in the middle of the kitchen quietly observing all of the action.

“What the fuck are YOU looking at?” I demanded.

The tone and volume of my voice was enough to send her tearing out of
the room like her tail was on fire.

I then took the chicken and placed it quietly back into the oven.

I set the temperature at 400 degrees Fahrenheit and hit the start button.

When said temperature was reached, I set the timer for 20 minutes,
hit the start button again, and walked away.

20 minutes later, my supper was ready.

I had started cooking my meal at 7 p.m.

I sat down to eat it at 8:30 p.m.

How was it?

The rice was perfect.

The chicken was not bad...a little dry, but not
bad.