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Kimble the Raccoon rushed into the kitchen and pulled the frozen roast chicken out of the fridge. It was one of those pre-prepared frozen roasts that are readily available in supermarkets, all seasoned and marinated and ready to rock. It was sitting on one of those convenient plastic trays that come with all supermarket meat produce. You know, the wrapping that consists of the plastic tray, glad-wrap and that price tag sticker on the front? Kimble loved those plastic trays. You don't need to carry the meat around in a bowl or something so you don't have an extra item of kitchenware to wash later. Instead, you had that super-cool tray that will keep the juices from spilling everywhere, which you can conveniently dispose of later. He ripped off the glad-wrap, and jammed it into the microwave for defrosting. The sensor cook in the microwave told Kimble that defrosting would take a half hour. Cooking time itself was 70 minutes per kg in the oven, and the roast weighed in at 1.8 kg, which mean a cooking time of… a long time. Kimble glanced at the clock. Shiven will be home in two hours and she was already feeling hungry. Kimble's stomach was grumbling pretty loudly as well, so he'd have to rush this meal a bit. He punched in the defrost sequence into the microwave and headed out to the living room to kill some time playing Crazy Taxi. He returned half an hour later to a beeping microwave and quickly shoved the roast from the microwave straight into the pre-heated oven, before going back to his game of Crazy Taxi. --- Half an hour later, he had beaten his previous high score and was feeling very good about himself. High score noted, he proceeded to check on the roast. He opened the oven door and putrid black smoke came pouring out! His first thought was "FUCK! I burnt the roast!" But on further inspection, the roast was fine. It didn't look blackened or charred at all. But then on further scrutiny, Kimble realized that something was definitely quite wrong. The tray had disappeared, and Kimble could've sworn that he put it in with a tray. A… oops… plastic tray. The roast was now sitting on
a molten mess of bubbly black shit. So that explains the smell,
Kimble thought to himself. But the thing was, when the smoke cleared,
the roast itself smelt really good. And when he tried to pry the roast
off the molten tray, the drumstick pulled right out all juicy and tenderly.
Damn. This would've been one tasty roast!
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