Oz

The wooden nutcracker-man watches me do it. The grinning wooden nutcracker-man watches me place my hand on the stovetop while the metal coils are red. Afterwards, I shove his narrow body down the garbage disposal. The metallic squealing lasts only a moment before my death machine jams. I should have pushed him down the hole head first leaving his skinny white legs and black boots jutting out like the eastern witch of Oz, but my mistake leaves me staring in silence at the upper half of the demon’s body; the still smiling and sadistic face.