AN: Look at that! You get something from me that's less than 1K words! It's a miracle. It's also inspired by something that happened to me last night (this morning?)
Mallory shuffled into the kitchen, half awake and wishing she wasn't. As a Special Forces soldier, her body had become accustomed to random sleeping hours and staying up for days at a time. Unfortunately, that occasionally played havoc with her ability to sleep, especially on nights when they'd had to go out and save the world at some ungodly late hour.
It was three in the morning, a full hour before she normally began her day. She'd already lain in bed for half an hour, trying to rest if not sleep. The silence of her room finally got to her and she threw on a pink robe over her tank top and shorts, found a pair of flip flops, and went in search of food.
Strangely enough, she was craving Pop Tarts. She hated the processed, overly sugared food; but, something about the frosting and grainy, sweet strawberry filling sounded like the best thing in the world. A quick search of the cabinets revealed one box— on Nosedive's shelf. Each duck had their own space where they could keep food and not worry about someone else taking it.
She stared at the traitorous, blue box, hating it for hiding on his shelf. If she took one and he noticed, everything on her shelf would be considered fair game. Then again, he already messed with her stuff all the time. And, it was a nearly full super pack of twenty Pop Tarts. He wouldn't know if one pack was missing. If he did, she'd buy him another whole box. That was a fair deal, right? She gets one packet now, he gets another box later.
Deciding to ignore the little voice that said this was a bad idea, she took one of the foil wrapped pastries and opened it. The toaster had broken last week when Duke's bagel got stuck and no one had bothered to replace or fix it yet; so, she used the toaster oven instead. Nobody ever used the toaster oven for actually toasting things; it was typically used for heating up left over pizza or making a single serving dinner without having to wait for one of the big ovens to reach temperature. She twisted the knobs to set it from broil to toast, stuck the two Pop Tarts in, and started making a pot of coffee. Evidence of her theft was hidden in the trash can, tucked away inside an empty yogurt container.
Mallory leaned on the counter, head in hand, watching the steady drip of brown liquid fill the pot. Heavy eyes drifted closed and she thought of nothing for a time.
The smell of smoke pulled her from her light doze. Straightening up, she checked on the toaster oven. Flames danced over the corner of one pop tart and the other was already charred black.
"Great." She groaned and folded her arms on the counter before resting her head on her forearms. Heaving a sigh, she took another look at the toaster oven.
Yup, the Pop Tart was on fire.
She turned it off and unplugged the black appliance. Even without power or heat continuing to fuel the flame, it refused to die out. In fact, it grew bigger as it spread down another side of the charred pastry.
Should she go get the fire extinguisher? That'd ruin the toaster oven for sure. Then again, it probably wouldn't work after this anyway.
"I hate machines," she muttered.
At least she knew enough not to open the door. That would only make things worse if she gave the fire a sudden rush of oxygen.
The room began to grow hazy as smoke leaked from the burning oven. She'd never hear the end of it if she set off the fire alarm. She flipped the switch to turn on the oven fans, hoping that would draw some of the smoke out of the room.
The Pop Tart mocked her, refusing to extinguish on its own.
"Fine," she threw her hands up in defeat. "Burn up! See if I care!"
She retrieved oven mitts from a drawer and picked up the oven. She couldn't leave it here; it might ruin the counter. Taking the elevator would be a bad idea, especially if the evil pastry decided to turn from a small flame to an inferno. Instead, she took the stairs up to the secret entrance leading to the parking garage.
Mallory abandoned the still burning Pop Tart and toaster oven by the dumpster and went back downstairs. Coffee would be enough for now.
End AN: And the moral of the story, kids, is don't make pop tarts at 3 AM.