Entry the Seventh (open, as always)

[theabjectauthor]

[because it's been a while since he practiced his flaneur skills, Lemony is sitting in the kitchen, reading a book of poetry. after a moment, he decides he's hungry, and roots through the fridge until he finds some leftover beef stew. takes a little and puts it in a bowl, then sticks it in the microwave. sets the timer, and goes back to his chair. after a while, he finds one of his favorite poems, and starts to read it aloud, just loud enough to be heard over the hum of the microwave]

"Here, where the world is quiet;
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing
For harvest-time and mowing,
A sleepy world of streams.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep...."

[about halfway through the wretched, depressing thing, the microwave sputters, slowly stops turning, and the light inside fades until the whole thing shuts down with a clunk]

...what ...?

[sets his book down and gets up to inspect it. congratulations, Lemony, you depressed the microwave to death.]