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Writing Prompt: Toaster Trouble

I wrote this to get over my writer's block. It was a funny prompt. It appealed to me in a way that I finally put some words down. Don't judge the quality. But I had a blast doing it. At least I'm writing! ___________________________________________________________________________


The toast hit the back of my head and I froze.

Carefully, half dreading the cause, I turned to scan my morning-lit kitchen, the spatula and egg still in my hand.


My kitchen was not inhabited by a toast throwing monster, burglar or even a slight breeze. The culprit, my over active mind concluded, could only be my malfunctioning toaster and not a poltergeist either. Frowning at the mundane metal toaster on the kitchen counter behind me I wondered how it managed to spit my toast six feet across. Lately it had been burning my toast and I’d been thinking of getting a new one, but this was the first time toast had gone flying.

Freeing my hands I bent down to pick up the fallen food item when something harder smacked into my forehead. Startled, I lost my balance and fell flat on my ass as I stared at the kitchen utensil that had flung my second harder, blackened, toast right at me.

It was absurd. Physics couldn’t be complying with my mind today because there was no way I was sitting on my ass watching my toaster like it had deliberately thrown toast at me. Absurd. Shaking my head, I gathered the ruined toast and stood up slowly rubbing my smarting behind. If this morning was any indication of how my day would go, I was tempted to ditch my presentation and go back to bed. My company would manage.

But no, like a good little drone, I went about putting fresh toast into the toaster and looked at my watch to make sure I took it out in time. Pushing down on the lever, I was about to go back to making my egg when I heard the pop and spun around in alarm. The toaster was empty again and as fate would have it, I had just enough time to look up and be in time to catch the falling bread on my head.

Sputtering and completely stymied, I yanked the bread off my head and stuffed it back into the stupid toaster with a glare. What the hell was wrong with the damn thing? Pushing down on the lever, I held it this time, determined to get my toast. I grinned as the rods slowly glowed red and the smell of fresh toast permeated my nose. Perhaps the morning could be salvaged yet.

The lever wobbled under my thumb and I frowned down at it. What the...

“OW!” Jerking my hand off the sudden flare of heat I released the hot lever only to watch my toast fly straight at me once again. Fumbling with the half toasted bread, I stared at my toaster as it slowly began to cool down. There was no way in hell. The lever had never heated before. It was plastic! “What the hell is wrong with you!”

“Funny you should ask.”

Shrieking, my toast forgotten, I was across the kitchen, around the island counter with my spatula back in my hand as I gawked at the possibly possessed kitchen appliance. “No. No you did not just talk back to me.” Lifting one hand I slapped my cheek gently. “I’m asleep. I am. Wake up!”

Cheek stinging, I watched as my silvery toaster hopped forward and the power cord popped out of the socket as I saw it clearly look at me. “Yes human, slap yourself a little harder. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do it.”

Mouth dropping open, I took a good bit of my skin and pinched hard. “AWO!” Hissing I rubbed my thigh and glared at the nightmare that wouldn’t go away. “How the hell are you talking?”

“You asked me a question, and can I say you are the dumbest user my kind has ever had the privilege of being owned by. How you get through your day without setting the entire house on fire is beyond us.”

“Us?” I glanced around my kitchen with growing fear. Did he mean there was more of his kind? I watched my microwave suspiciously.

“Hey!” He barked and my eyes snapped to him in fright. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. You have the attention span of a pea!”

Some of my fear slowly began to give way to indignation. “Will you stop insulting me?”

“Why should I? You insult me every day!”


The appliance seemed to preen across my counter, the cord swiveling in the hold of the lever like he was spinning a stick around. The little black legs trotted around with a mock feminine stride. “Oh look at me; I’m so good at making breakfast on my own. Work you stupid toaster!” The wire was shook at a nearby water bottle. “That stupid toaster burnt my toast again! Oh hells, hang on mother, I forgot to take my toast out of the stupid toaster!” The cord was held to its side like it was holding a phone and my indignation turned to abject anger.

“Shut up! It’s not my fault you burn everything!”

“I burn everything?” It spun around with clear shock and ire. “You are the one who has no idea about how to set the dial, keep optimum heat, place me in a cool dry place or have the decency to clean my bread crumb tray!”

Honestly perplexed I frowned at him. “What bread crumb tray?”

“ARGH!” Exasperated it seemed to vibrate with anger before one of its little legs kicked a spoon off the counter. “Have you ever read a manual in your life?”

“For making toast?”

“Yeah! Because you obviously suck at it!”

“I suck at it!?” Coming around the island counter I wagged my spatula at him. “I’ve been making toast all my life; you’re the only one that burns them!”

“Oh yeah your mother’s poor GE253 told me you managed to burn out one of its rods the first time you used it. Do you have ANY idea how long I had to listen to it cry?”

Lips parting in shock, I tried to speak only to clamp my mouth shut as the cord seemed to coil around its side like my toaster had its hands on its hips. The vision was so damned comical that I couldn’t help let some of my anger dissipate. “I was four.”

“You might as well still be!”

Taking a deep breath, I ran a weary hand through my hair and sighed. “Okay look, I have a meeting in an hour and I’m already late. How about you give me one toast and I’ll barely manage to eat on the way, then when I get back, we can talk.”

“I have demands.” The cord crossed across the front imperially.

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my own arms. “You’re a toaster.”

“I will keep burning your toast then.”

Groaning in frustration, I looked at the clock and threw up my hands. “Oh hells! Fine! What are your demands?”

The stupid thing sniffed superiorly and I had half a mind to reach out and toss it out my window, but then I’d have to eat soft bread and I hated soft bread. After taking a tally in its puny head, the toaster seemed to nod. “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. Take notes.”

“I will not_”

“Burnt toast.”

Throwing up my hands, I reached for the little pad and pen beside my phone and glared at it. “You have five minutes.”

Nodding, it resumed its pacing. “From now on, you will address me as sir.”

My mouth dropped open to scream and it held up the cord for my silence and began to strut back and forth across my counter. “You will also refrain from calling me any derogatory names. Which includes something as generic an appliance. I am a silver plated, dual filament, energy star compliant, ISO certified, bread browning utensil.” Speechlessly, I watched it iterate a list of demands before it paused and seemed to point to the pen in my hand.

Grumbling under my breath I wrote down the stupid toaster’s list as it began to walk again. “You will read and memorize my manual tonight and I will quiz you tomorrow, which you should pass with a grade of 98% or higher.”

My fingers nearly crushed my poor pen as I hoped to glare the thing to an early short-circuited death. “Two minutes.”

I could feel it grin as it regarded me with a haughty superiority. If only I didn’t like my toast crispy. “You will clean my bread crumb tray every other day, clean my plug, shine my surface until I can see you face in it.”

“I have had just about enough_”

“And,” it extended its lever towards me with a flourish, “you will kiss my handle_AWO!” The plug came up to rub around its top where my pen had struck.

“You sick little pervert!”

The toaster seemed to shrug. “I had to try.”

“Fine you evil little monst_”

“Un, un!” It shook its cord at me. “Name calling equals burnt toast.”

Fuming, fists clenching I held a half mangled toast to the damned thing. “Breakfast now equals me not throwing you into the garbage.”

“And what will you use instead?”

“I’ll eat buns!”

It gaped at me, offended. “You wouldn’t! You love toast!”

“I would.”

“Hmph.” Sulkily, it crossed its cord in front again. “Fine. You don’t have to kiss my…”

“Toast now,” I growled.

“And my demands?”

Praying for patience I picked up the little yellow pad and smacked it beside it on the counter. “Signed.”

With a sniff of satisfaction, the cord reached out, took the toast and daintily placed it into one of the slots. For a moment we both stood there glaring at each other, and then I realized the ridiculousness of what I was doing and shook my head. “If I go get some jam, will you throw my toast at me again? I still have crumbs in my hair.”

“Nope. Toaster’s honor.”

Sticking my tongue out at it I turned away and couldn’t help snicker at it let out a petulant, ‘hey!’ “Your demands said nothing about not being able to stick my tongue out at you. Now, if make my toast perfectly, I might even decide to bring you a friend.”


“I have been meaning to buy a waffle maker.”

“Hubba hubba!” The whistle was long and appreciate. “Catch.”

Laughing, I turned around just in time to catch the flying bread in mid air. Perhaps my day didn’t have to be mundane, not when I was losing my mind so superbly.

Humming I munched on my jam toast and went to start my day.


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