Breakroom Microwaves

The Boogieman exists, and you all know it’s true.
I am convinced that monsters come from company break room microwaves.   One look into that abyss, you know something ugly, slimy, and bitey resides in there.  I fear that if I ever need to warm my leftovers, I will need full chain-mail and a sword in order to protect all my vital parts. 
I wonder if “it” would be discouraged if I yelled a battle cry every time the buzzer dings and it is time to remove my reheated Chicken Parmesan
The Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog

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