fred vs the possessed mittins

I squirmed into the kitchen because my tummy was growling again. Hanging right from the low oven handle was a thick quilted mitt. It had five fingers and looked just like a fat, sleeping hand. Real human food! I lunged forward and clamped my mouth hard onto the stuffed cloth thumb. I pulled with all my weight. Pop! The loop snapped right off the metal hook. The whole heavy glove dropped straight down and squashed me flat against the cold linoleum. It tastes like dry cotton and burnt toast crusts. I am completely pinned under it, but I refuse to let go