老师说：“You are pretty quiet in class and do not ask a lot of questions. I thought that you were not interested in writing. But your work is examplary."
这篇写得还很稚嫩，但是热情和幽默感跃然纸上。
Stove
I burnt the ham today.
Well, not exactly today. It was kind of a year ago. My owner left the stove on for too long. I kept trying to scream at him, Turn it off! TURN IT OFF! But he stood there, on the phone, talking to his friend. Smoke sizzled high in the air, and only when the smoke alarm went off did he turn the fire down.
I have the best view of the living room. My best friends, Refrigerator and Microwave (although all their friends call them Fridge and Mike) sit next to me. I can look out above Mr. Couch and Mrs. Sofa, Dishwasher (Everybody calls him Dishy), and the mean sink across the street. Although there are many more appliances, these are the highlights.
“Ooh! He’s coming!” Fridge said.
“Who is he gonna use?”
“I bet it will be me!”
“No way! He used you last time!”
This always happens when the owner comes into the kitchen. Everybody bets on which appliance he will use. I sighed. He almost never uses me. He doesn’t know how to cook, so he always uses Mike to heat up frozen food.
He walked over to Fridge and opened his door.
“Yessss!” He murmured. The Frying Pan sighed and handed some butter to him.
Butter is our currency. Everybody likes it because it is so oily, and tastes delicious when you eat it. Fridge has the most because he’s the only one who can store it for as long as he likes.
That night, I heard Mr. Door open as he groaned with the effort.
“He’s getting too old,” Mike whispered to me. “It’s hard for him to open these days.”
I nodded thoughtfully. The owner walked into the kitchen with someone I had never seen before.
“This is a nice place you got, Dave!”
“Thanks dad. Here, sit down, I’ll fix you dinner.”
The new man plopped down of Mr. Couch, and I could hear his complaints to his wife, Mrs. Sofa, from the other side of the room.
No doubt he’ll use Mike again, I thought bitterly. But as I watched in astonishment, he made his way over to me and turned on my fire. It took awhile before I could muster the energy to spark up, as I had not been turned on in awhile.
The owner smiled and tore open a bag with the logo, Piazza’s. Inside was a steak. Why a pizza place would sell steak, I don’t know. Anyway, he chucked the steak into Frying Pan and let it simmer.
I sighed. It had been so long since I had cooked something. One year is much too long for a stove to stay dormant. My flames were dancing under Frying Pan. Smoke fumed up into the ceiling, and Frying Pan was screaming at me to turn off my flames. Turn off my flames? Why? It felt so good to cook something. Everybody else gets used almost everyday! I’m always left behind. Why don’t everybody else feel how I feel!
As I slowly grew angrier, my flames grew in size. Suddenly, I felt my flames seize, and slowly they died out. The owner had turned off my flames. I could hear the angry voice of the other man yelling at the owner.
“I can’t believe you can’t even cook a meal without messing something up!”
“But dad, it was an accident!”
“Too many accidents! I’m done!”
The man stormed out of the house, fuming. The owner sighed and trekked over to me.
“Look what you did,” He said to me. “Made my old man mad again.” He yelled and kicked me.
“Ow!” I said, but only the other appliances could hear.
The next day, I heard loud noises outside. Men with unusual yellow caps walked in, and pointed to me, speaking a few words. The owner nodded, and they began to take me away.
“What! No!” I tried to protest as they began the process of unplugging me and carrying me away.
“Stove!” Fridge called.
I struggled against the men, but they carried me off easily. Everyone looked in helplessness. They walked out and threw me in the back of the truck.
They drove for a while. They were some other kitchen appliances. I made small talk during the journey, but when we arrived, I stared out into a barren land.
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