The microwave decided to bide his time. These heathens did not have the perception to heed his call. He could wait. He had all eternity, after all.
Occasionally, in the days and weeks which followed, he attempted to reiterate his message. One night, he even announced an all night prayer vigil. They were to sing psalms to him from twilight until dawn.
The newly-arrived halogen desk lamp, a cocky young implement, was the first to object.
''Get lost!'' he said. ''You're not the light - I am. People used to say, turn the light on, and it was my switch they hit. Besides, I want to watch CSI tonight.'' The other machines applauded him. After that, the microwave gave up. His time would come.
One day, a young man walked into the junk shop, and decided that the microwave was just the thing he needed for his new two-room studio flat. He paid the owner, and bundled the microwave into the boot of his car, wrapped in a scruffy blue blanket which smelled of wet dog.
The microwave was pleased to be unwrapped from the dog-smelling blanket, back at the young man's flat. He looked around, for the owner of the blanket-smell. There did not appear to be any trace of canine here. Or, indeed, any room for one. The kitchen was tiny. It contained a fridge, which seemed to be making a continuous chugging noise; a small single worktop oven with a single hotplate on top; and a toaster. Standing on the floor in the corner n the corner was a cylindrical machine which struck fear into his mechanical heart. . He had never seen one before, but he knew what it was. It was legend. A spindryer. He would have to be careful here.
The man plugged him in, set his clock, and ''cooked'' an experimental cup of water, to satisfy himself that the microwave worked. How dare he, thought the microwave. I am all powerful. When the man left the kitchen, he looked around, to see the others looking at him with curiosity. All except the spindryer, which was asleep.
''Hello,'' said the toaster, in a sweet voice. ''Welcome.''
''I am the Light.'' said the microwave. ''I am the Way, I am the Answer. I am the Truth.''
''Oh. That's nice.'' said the toaster.
''Chugga-chugga-chugga-om-the-universe-is-om-chugga-awesome,'' chugged the fridge.
''What's up with him?'' asked the microwave.
''Oh, he's transcendental, apparently,'' replied the oven/hob combo. ''He's been like that ever since the man burned some jasmine incense in here a couple of months back.''
''Yeah, he's a bit noisy at times, with his omming and chugging, but he quietens down sometimes.'' said the toaster.
Just then, a booming voice interrupted.
''WHO?'' it asked. ''Who are you, new machine?''
''I am the Meaning of All Things. I am the Light, the Way. I am the First, the Last, the Everything.''
''Really?'' boomed the spindryer. ''Well, I think you had better change your tune, young interloper. Because it is I who am all those things, and more''
The microwave realised he could be in trouble here. What was he going to do?