Kitchen Soliloquy #4: The Psychopath Toaster
If ever there was a bad-ass in the kitchen it was the toaster. It was a nutcase.
Around a year ago I came in from a night in with friends, a tad intoxicated. In my kitchen I looked around me and I wanted to be productive, as was clearly the sensible thing to do at 4am. And I suppose i was; I ended up writing a collection of micro stories about the collection of items in my kitchen.
If ever there was a bad-ass in the kitchen it was the toaster. It was a nutcase.
“How’s things Marty?” asked Paul. Paul and Marty were kitchen cupboards, neighbors and comrades for the best of twenty years. They’d been through everything together -They’d been together since they’d left the factory.
The plughole was growing tiresome of this menace, this looming eye over it, watching, it’s long neck cocked out, waiting for something to happen. The tap had spent every day since installation spying (maybe that’s too subtle a word) on the plughole.
The saucer was an angry little dish. He was like a human pinkie finger…