Cannibal Children. I has them.

First a bit of background info. I do not own an oven; all I have is this little toaster oven thing (this makes making pizza a pain, but I will suffer for my art). A few days back I attempted to clean said toaster oven, and somehow I destroyed it instead. Every time I switch it on it trips the whole house (wheeee! goes the house).

So now it’s sitting on a chair in the sun, presumably drying out.

Emo Sprog (Sprog the Younger) comes to me and says “coo-coo baby.”  (coo-coo = cook for those not au fait with the language of wee sprogs.) I go check. Sure enough, her baby ( a small doll with only one hand and a ball point pen Hitler moustache) is in the toaster oven.

Yeah. I worry.

Later she informs me that she’s “coo-coo puppy.”

Yes. There is now a small toy dog in the toaster oven.

I suppose it gives whole new meaning to hotdog.


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3 thoughts on “Cannibal Children. I has them.”

  1. My mom accidentally cooked the cat. The cat jumped in the oven to check out the TV dinners, while my mom was distracted. Cats don’t like to be cooked. They make a really bad noise when they are being cooked. Don’t worry the cat lived but never came near the oven again.

  2. When I was a child, my sister dropped a doll in the toaster. My mother made a song out of it, to the tune of Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater.
    I dropped my dolly
    in the toaster.
    Didn’t know that
    it would roast her.
    And now all my dolly says is
    “Wah wah wah-wah-wah.”

    There were additional verses to address other unfortunate dolly incidents.

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