Hail to the scientific approach

The table is set with the best china. Flowers and candles are the finishing touches to the décor.
The oven is loaded with gastronomic delights. The wine is chilling, and the guests are scheduled to arrive in 30 minutes.
The hostess takes a break, putting her feet up and sinking back into the sofa.
Dennis the Senior Menace, never one to sit around killing time, decides he will put the 30 minutes of free time to use checking his balls for resilience (golf balls, that is).
It is a simple test as any golfer worth his tees knows. Simply drop a ball from a measured height and see how far it rebounds.
The kitchen bar and the tile floor provide the perfect test bench.
Dennis quickly determines his stock of dimpled beauties are, in fact, rebounding different amounts. Several are topping out at 28 inches.
Dennis, plumbing the depths of his golf/physics knowledge, then theorizes if the golf balls are warmer, they will rebound even further.
Hmm, how to accomplish this quickly? Twenty-five minutes until the guests arrive.
The microwave! One minute on high warms the balls a tiny bit. Sure enough, the rebound increases to 29 inches.
Another minute on high warms them just a tad more and the rebound now looks like 29-and-a-half inches.
Excited, Dennis checks his watch: 20 minutes to ‘D’ time.
Dennis decides to push the envelope, cranking five minutes onto the microwave and punching the start button. The phone rings.
“Dennis, get the phone,” orders the still reclining hostess. “And quit goofing around with those stupid golf balls!”
Dennis steps into the hall to answer.
“Yeah, Charlie. Just checking out my balls for tomorrow’s game. . . .
“No, golf balls. . . . I’m heating them up in the micro-. . . .”
Dennis is cut off by an ear-shattering explosion.
Dennis excuses himself and sticks his head in one door of the kitchen as the hostess peers around the other with not a little trepidation.
The floor is littered with the shattered remains of the microwave-shrapnel everywhere. The walls, furniture, and china are draped with little shreds of rubber strands (like the invasion of a plague of wiggly worms)—the remains of one or more golf balls.
The hostess raises her eyes with a laser-piercing glare at Dennis the Senior Menace and states coolly, “I don’t care how you do it. You have 15 minutes to clean up this mess.
“I’m taking a bath!”
“So how long did it take you to actually clean it up,” I inquired politely.
“Oh, only15 minutes. I work well under pressure,” came the reply.