Toast

The toaster popped. I jumped up from my seat with the same intensity. I strolled to the toaster thinking about why toaster's popped, and perhaps that the world's great mystery had been solved. So that's why they call them pop-tarts. Then I think of the quote "You can eat pop tarts, TM anytime of the day." I laugh to myself. However, the matter at hand is my toast. Burnt to a crisp as expected. I wave my hand about trying to get the smoke detector to be quiet. Next my attention turns to the toast at hand. Skill is a matter of importance here. Now you musn't get burnt. I could simply pull the tongs out of the drawer and remove the toast, but that would be cheating. Dainty fingers are skillful, but I don't have the fingers, just the skill. I pull my piece of toast with much precision from the hot toaster like pulling a diamond ring from a fire. With much success I let my prize slap on the countertop. Jelly is next on my agenda. Strike that, jam. I lean over and search the refrigerator door for marmalade. Blast! Jam will have to do, but jam is essential for a prize like this. And with delicious spread in hand, I begin the art of applying strawberry jam to burnt toast. Extra heavy to compensate for the taste of charcoal of course, and as I do, a "tra-la-la" comes to mind. Then suddenly, my day has started right.

-Sam