Why Erwynn Gardeazabal Should Never Be Left Alone with a Microwave

I've always suspected that my friend Erwynn Gardeazabal had a strange fascination with microwaves. It all started a few years ago when we were roommates in college. I would often come home to find him standing in front of the microwave, staring at it intently as if it were a mystical oracle.
One day, I couldn't take it anymore. "Erwynn," I asked, "what's the fascination with the microwave?"
He turned to me with a faraway look in his eyes. "It's the ultimate kitchen appliance, man," he said. "It can heat up your food, defrost your frozen peas, and even make popcorn. It's like a culinary Swiss Army knife."
I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. However, my amusement soon turned to concern when I realized that Erwynn's microwave obsession was starting to become a serious problem.
One afternoon, I came home to find the microwave door wide open and Erwynn standing next to it with a mischievous grin on his face. "Guess what I did?" he asked.
I groaned. "You didn't microwave anything you shouldn't have, did you?"
He shook his head. "Nah, not this time. I just discovered the 'popcorn' button."
"The 'popcorn' button?" I asked, bewildered.
"Yeah, man," he said. "It's amazing. You just put a bag of popcorn in the microwave and press the button, and it pops like magic."
I couldn't argue with that. We spent the rest of the evening eating microwave popcorn and watching movies. It was harmless fun, or so I thought.
But Erwynn's microwave obsession didn't stop there. Over the next few weeks, I witnessed him microwaving everything from gummy bears to marshmallows to a rubber chicken. He even tried to microwave a banana, which resulted in a sticky mess that took hours to clean up.
I tried to reason with him. I told him that microwaving non-food items was dangerous and could damage the appliance. But Erwynn wouldn't listen. He was convinced that the microwave was his culinary playground, and he was determined to explore every nook and cranny of it.
One fateful evening, I came home from work to find Erwynn standing in the kitchen with a look of triumph on his face. "I did it!" he exclaimed. "I microwaved a whole pizza."
I stared at him in disbelief. "A whole pizza?"
"Yup," he said, proudly. "I put it in on high for ten minutes, and it came out perfect. Crispy crust, gooey cheese, the works."
I couldn't believe my ears. Erwynn had actually microwaved a whole pizza and somehow managed to not burn it to a crisp. I was impressed, but also a little concerned.
"Erwynn," I said, "I think it's time you took a break from the microwave."
He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. "But why?"
"Because," I said, "I'm worried you're going to hurt yourself or someone else."
He sighed. "Fine," he said. "I'll take a break. But just for a week."
A week turned into two, and two weeks turned into a month. Erwynn kept his promise and stayed away from the microwave. But I could tell that he was itching to get back to his culinary experiments.
One afternoon, I came home to find Erwynn standing in front of the microwave again. He had a strange look on his face, a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
"Erwynn," I said, "what are you doing?"
He turned to me with a mischievous grin. "I've been thinking," he said. "And I've realized that I've been neglecting the true potential of the microwave."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I've been using it for the simple things," he said. "Heating up food, defrosting peas, making popcorn. But I know it can do so much more."
"Like what?" I asked.
He smiled. "Like cooking a whole Thanksgiving dinner in the microwave. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, the works."
I couldn't believe my ears. "Erwynn," I said, "that's ridiculous. You can't cook a whole Thanksgiving dinner in the microwave."
He shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I'm willing to try."
And try he did. For the next few weeks, Erwynn spent countless hours experimenting with different microwave recipes. He microwaved everything from turkey to Brussels sprouts to pumpkin pie. And to my surprise, it all came out surprisingly well.
On Thanksgiving Day, Erwynn invited me over for dinner. He had prepared the entire meal in the microwave, and it was delicious. The turkey was juicy, the stuffing was flavorful, and the pumpkin pie was creamy and perfectly spiced.
As I sat there eating my microwave-cooked Thanksgiving dinner, I couldn't help but smile. Erwynn had finally found his culinary calling. He had turned his obsession with the microwave into a culinary masterpiece.
And so, the legend of Erwynn Gardeazabal, the microwave master, was born. From that day forward, he became known throughout the neighborhood as the man who could cook anything in the microwave. And while I still worried about what he might microwave next, I couldn't deny that he had a gift.