So I’m gonna tell the story about that time I microwaved a pop tart

Ok so I drank a ton of zquil because, you know, finals week, I wanna sleep. And I decided to myself, “you know what sounds really good right now? A fucken pop tart.”
So I go to pay pantry, I’m not too far because of that whole thing where that’s where we keep the zquil. Anyway, so I open the box of pop tarts, right, and it’s the ones where it’s the 2 pop tarts wrapped in the silvery foil looking wrapping. So I’m opening the thing and I see some writing under the flap. You know the flap the one to open the shit? Yeah so I’m thinking“shit what the fuck there’s writing here? Neat.” So I read that shit and it says “don’t microwave wrapper” or some shit like that. And I’m thinking, “Haha no shit what fucken idiot microwaves their pop tarts?”
that gets me thinking… maybe IM the idiot who DOESNT microwave his pop tarts!
For a second I thought I was fucking Indiana Jones and I’d just found the holy grail or whatever the fuck he was after this time. So I’m thinking, “holy shit. This could be revolutionary in the methods of my consumption of the delicious toaster strudels known to man only as pop tarts.”
So I grab a little plate, right, and I throw that shit in the microwave faster than usain bolt runs and I hit that sweet 30 second button and I’m thinking, “holy shit. This could be amazing.” So I go and take out the trash because you know, this is the time when I take out the trash. Gotta stay on that routine, even if you are reinventing the wheel. And the whole time I’m doing that I’m thinking, “wowo pop tart gonna be so good.” Then I come back, I wash my hands and shit, as you do after you take out the trash, and I go to the microwave expecting the most amazing sight to befall me. I take that shit right out and I’m thinking, “great, we’re already going pretty well.” It’s not like at this point it looks like radioactive or anything. It’s not like I’m gonna catch a moderate case of severe brain damage if I eat this thing.
So I start waking back to my room all the while eyeing this scrumptious piece of ass that is my microwaved pop tart. Right. I put on some music, it was pretty good, the band is called the marìas, check them out if you haven’t yet, and I go to take the first bite and it’s just… disappointing… I was expecting to bite into something more glorious than that one scene in true detective where Alexandra daddario takes off her top but no. I got blue balled. I got disappointment. I got fucked in the ass by the proletariat. It turns out I was the bourgeoisie all along.

The moral of the story is simple: don’t microwave your fucking pop tarts. It’s disappointing.
See ya.