I had been the only person to come home after we'd all left that morning. Whose sausages are these and how long have they been sitting in the microwave? I wondered. Since they were already long past saving, I left them out so the offender would be aware of his offense. It had to be one of the two guys living in the house because the two gals wouldn't be eating sausage.
"Did London make sausages for breakfast?" I asked my daughter. "No," she answered, so I figured it was Tony, but he never makes sausage for breakfast.
When he came home that night, my daughter pointed to the old sausages and asked if he'd left them. He pondered for a moment, then jumped in recognition and regret. "Yes, I'd made some waffles the other night and put the sausage in and forgot all about them." Two wasted sausages is as close to tragedy as Tony likes to get.
Finally, when we are all together in the kitchen the next day, everyone tells their side to the story and just like it is in the movie, the magic moment is revealed to me in the form of a flashback. I see exactly what happened and it was never magic, only a deception.
The microwave sits in the cabinetry above the oven--higher than my head. I had opened the microwave, slid in my plate and failed to notice the plate of sausages that had ended their round table roasting at the back of the microwave. When the thirty seconds ended, the sausage plate had rotated to the front and my bowl to the back. When I reached in--voila, a plate of sausages.
This time, laughter is the magic.