I Murdered a Pot Tonight

Let us all pause for a moment of silence, as we remember the pot.

It all started this afternoon when I went to a bar in my ‘hood that I had not visited before. I went in and sat down in a position that completely disrupted the place. It is a regulars bar, and apparently there is assigned seating. I plunked down and threw the entire joint into doubt and uncertainty. I did not stay long; they didn’t have food and I was one hungry pup. Still, it was beer on an empty stomach, and that’s never good. The Czech hockey championships were on, so I went to the Little CafĂ© Near Home – not renowned for their vittles but I enjoy watching hockey with the folks there. I had a snack there and resolved to have more when I got home.

Home I got, and while the larder is traditionally spare, I did have rice. Perfect! I put a pot on the stove with plenty of water, and then came in here to write about download day.

I forgot about the pot.

Time for bed, and luckily I had to pass through the kitchen to perform my evening cleansing rituals. I heard the hiss of the stove and looked over to see a pot, formerly lined with enamel, blackened on the bottom and the enamel on the sides of the pot slumping. I turned off the gas and now the apartment is filled with a smell reminiscent of burned popcorn. We’ll send a forensic team in tomorrow morning to fully assess the potworthiness of the vessel, but I expect it will be time for me to go pot shopping pretty soon.

10 thoughts on “I Murdered a Pot Tonight

  1. Are you now going to get a bunch of Google hits on the subject of P o t s h o p p i n g? Will Amersterdam “Coffee” Shops start linking to your blog?

  2. I did that once. I forget what kind of pot it was, but by the time we remembered it the bottom was glowing bright red. We rushed it quickly outside to the snow but it was too late. ‘Twas a good pot, too. :(

  3. Arrr, many a pot has been ruined from late-night, post-drinking, so hungry, must eat, take a little nap first, awaken to smoke alarm, shenannigans.

    I burnt half of a Uno’s pizza Saturday night myself. It’s hard to sleep in the morning once the burnt crust in the trashcan assaults your nose.

    Perhaps not murder Jer as there twas no malice aforethought. More like, negligent potslaughter.

  4. Then there was the time that Pat killed not just a pot but also all of our baby bottles and related paraphernalia. We ended up making an emergency 20-mile trip at 2 a.m. to a 24-hour grocery store to get replacements. And the house smelled like burnt rubber and plastic for weeks.

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