You are toast!
Here’s what happened. I burned our breakfast toast. “Harry, my heedless Honey,” said Dearest Duck while the smoke detector wailed. “You have done it again.”
There was no need to respond to Dearest Duck’s statement of the obvious so after flapping a dishcloth at the smoke detector until it knocked off howling, I proceeded to inspect the smoldering toast.
Ah- ha! The bread was jammed inside the toaster, bent out of shape and edged with soot.
Always heroic in times of crisis, and knowing the charcoal-edged toast must be removed from the toaster, I grabbed a butter knife and reeved it into the outside slot. Here’s what happened. An explosive flash of light arced from the toaster to the wall socket. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm from the knife’s blade, blew my spectacles off my face and popped my iAids out of my ears. Truly.
Okay, maybe not a hundred per cent.
But the toaster’s fried innards indicated the device was…well, toast, eh b’ys?
And there was an evident need for some professional repair of the wall and its electrical outlet.
“We need a new toaster,” said Dearest Duck, again stating the easily observable.
Needless to say, breakfast was off the table for that morning.
Here’s what happened. I hie-dee-hoed to Mr. Google’s kitchen appliances shop in search of a brand-new toaster, one less likely to trap bread in its belly and incinerate it.
“Try to find a nice modern one,” said Dearest Duck, joining me at Mr. Google’s.
B’ys, let me tell you, I’ve bought cars in less time than it took to decide on a toaster.
The toaster that lay a twisted, smoking ruin on the countertop, I’d bought back in the 20th Century. If memory serves me properly, I presented it to Dearest Duck in 1994 as an anniversary present. I don’t remember if she was overjoyed or not.
Prob’ly not a hundred per cent.
“Today, my Duck,” said I in my most magnanimous voice, “for you we’ll go top of the line, state of the art.”
I confess my heart went pitter-pat when Dearest Duck squeezed my bicep and gratefully pecked my whiskers. That’s a lie.
“You bet your future supply of chocolate chip cookies we will go top of the line,” is what Dearest Duck truly said.
I asked Mr. Google to show us his most expensive toasters. He displayed his very best — a Dualit Gold, trimmed with copper and sporting a $1,100 price tag.
For frig sake, our still-purring 20th Century freezer cost less than that.
“P’raps one a wee bit cheaper,” I said to Mr. Google and felt Dearest Duck inch away from my side.
Mr. Google displayed #2 — a Bugatti Noun, a see-through apparatus resembling a double-hung window: $1,000.
“My Duck,” said I, “p’raps we should look at something midrange.”
“Okay,” said she, shifting farther away.
Chagrined, Mr. Google displayed #3 — a cherry-red KitchenAid Pro Line, $500, but with free shipping if bought online.
“Oh, that would perfectly match my KitchenAid mixer,” said Dearest Duck, shifting back to close the gap.
“It would, my Duck,” said I, “but remember you bought your mixer for a double-reduced price at a Scratch and Dent sale.”
The recently closed gap reappeared.
Oh my. We walked Mr. Google’s aisles until we were worn weary. We examined a Breville - $249; Cuisinart - $149; Black and Decker - $48.
I thought Black and Decker was strictly a power tools company. I didn’t know Black and Decker sold toasters, for frig sake.
All the same, the Black and Decker tag was approaching a sensible price for a toaster.
“Good price,” I said to Dearest Duck and she abruptly left — kinda stomped away actually.
I departed Mr. Google’s shop after I reached the bottom of his pile, so to speak. I’d lost count of the numbers but the final display was a dandy little Sunbeam two-slicer — $17.
Moseying up to Dearest Duck’s good side, I offered a squeeze after I’d hauled on my coat.
I responded merrily, like a knight with a dragon to slay: “I’m off to Walmart.”
“Don’t bring back a toaster,” I heard Dearest Duck say as the door shut.
Here’s a by-the-way note: The first slice of toast I remember eating Mammy cooked on the kitchen woodstove — a single slice of inch-thick bread skivvered on a fork and held over an open flame…
…which is how we’re presently making toast. Truly.
Thank you for reading. are you going?” she