Merch | My Brain Hurts

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The Toaster...

'There was a day I encountered that was purely from hell itself...a day I felt I might meet my maker.

The day started like every other day...but then there was breakfast. This particular morning meal would turn out to be a frightening example of how when things go wrong, they might take that 'wrong' to entirely different level. This was that day...

Innocently I placed two slices of bread onto my 4 slice toaster. I bought what I thought to be one of the 'class' toasters in the store. Expensive? Yes. Great reviews? Absolutely...the best. 4 and a half stars. Mind you no other toaster had managed to compile a full unadulterated 5. That lofty rating was reserved for NO ONE...no other Toaster had that, as I previously mentioned. Not even those useless and ridiculous 2 slicers had managed more than just 4 stars...not even attaining that extra 'half star'.

But mine had. I picked my 4 slicer just in case, taking no chances in case I would be extra hungry one day. Wonder bread was my favorite...white, of course...and none of those absurd 'Wheat Bread' brands would pass from my fingers into my toaster. I felt Wheat Bread was evil...some may like it...the fools they were...but my toaster would not have it. None...never.

I had what I considered to be the 'Rolls Royce' of toasters sitting on my counter. I even gave it a special place. No other appliance deserved to be even close to it...it would not be tolerated. To the very last breath in my body, I would never allow it. I had a rule that there had to be at least 3 solid feet of space between my amazing Toaster and any other appliance....both sides, mind you. A Blender? A Rice Cooker? Pathetic appliances my wife had purchased years before. Whereas my toaster was special...it had that vaunted space of its own on that counter.

But one day my dreams were shattered. Nothing less than that word would properly convey the feelings I had.

I innocently placed 2 slices of bread into the available opening slots...gingerly, mind you... not wanting to bend the bread or detach any of the crust during this important process. I had always been extra careful when making toast....you had to be. Of course I used the two slots on the left side...I was never sure of the others.

The setting used for my toast was always the same...my toaster actually had clear, colored little windows that accurately described what the toast would look like when the process was complete. There was therefore never any doubt of what to expect when the toast popped up and partially out of the toaster.

But on this one evil day something went horribly wrong. One slice popped out of its slot...as usual. But the other hadn't. Instead, wispy coils of brown smoke began to emerge...getting darker by the moment.

See...I knew that toast was burning.

There was no doubt in my mind at that very moment. But now, what to do? This was unprecedented...my toaster had never done this before! It had 4 and a half stars, by God! But again...what to do??

I panicked and began aimlessly pacing the kitchen floor while the smoke coming from that one slot got thicker with every additional moment. I had no idea what the next course of action should involve...this was after all now beyond my scope of reason.

So not knowing what else I should do, I began to scream. It was at that moment that my wife walked into the kitchen. She seemed so very calm, which to me was an incredible display of bravery on her part. Burning toast? Yet she acted as if this was a walk in the park...nothing at all to worry about.

By now I was sitting in a fetal position on the kitchen floor sobbing. What else could I do?

Shaking her head, my wife, i.e. 'The Brave One' casually walked around me, went over to the toaster, unplugged it and gave it a hard slap on the side. Miraculously, the now black and unusable slice of burnt bread popped out, still smoking a bit. Using a pair of tongs, my wife grabbed the poor slice and tossed it into the sink where it could safely cool down.

One slice of Wonder White bread had survived, while the other did not. But now can I survive on just the single slice? Of this I wondered...but there was never a question in my mind...I was now petrified of using my toaster. The trauma experienced would stay with me for weeks, if not for months thereafter. I could not handle another situation like this...so from that point on breakfast cereal would be my standard way of starting the day. That toaster would collect dust....err, unless my wife would be using it. So brave she was...'

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