ME: Hey
NON-STICK PAN: Yeah?
ME: Gotta second?
NON-STICK PAN: Sure.
ME: I’ve got a personal question.
NON-STICK PAN: Shoot.
ME: Well, does your name ever get to you?
NON-STICK PAN: What, what do you mean?
ME: You know, it beginning so…negatively. Non-stick, non…and then it’s just so bland. There are so many of you. It’s as if the entire world were named John. No… non-John. It’s as if the entire world were named Non-John, without there even being Johns. Cause how often do you go to the store to get a stick pan …or, a yes-stick pan. How often does your favorite tuna cake recipe call for a stick pan? You know? Target never has online deals on sticky pans.
NON-STICK PAN: Why do you do this to me?
ME: Do what?
NON-STICK PAN: Every morning. Every single time you use me. It’s something retarded like Eggs in a Blanket and yet you have the audacity to ask me some stupid, patronizing question that once again proves you’re the witty one, you’re the one everybody crowds around at parties for a good laugh. Maybe if you actually made tuna cakes once in a while I’d take you seriously. But no, it’s just jalepeno bratwursts and sloppy eggs. With the flamed turned too high while you…
ME: Oh shut up, I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Do you PMS every morning, or are you still jealous that most mornings I only have time for Apple Jacks?
NON-STICK PAN: PMS? What? Seriously. I don’t have a gender. I am a non-stick pan. What is wrong with you?
ME: If you’d just answer the question, maybe we’d both…
NON-STICK PAN: Yes, alright? Yes. Sometimes my name gets to me. Go to hell.
ME: Ignoring that last part, I’m glad we had this talk. I’m actually glad we got this far. (chuckles) You know, I love you, Pan.
PAN: OK.
ME: I loooove you.
PAN: I love you too.