Thursday, November 30, 2006
Toast part two: Toast.
Not wanting to let the previous lack of toastitocity get me down, I opted to borrow a toaster from a friend. However, I couldn't do so because I have no friends. With no other options available, I decided to steal one instead.
When I got to the door of my chosen house, I was saddened to find that it was locked. Getting myself a toaster was clearly not going to be as easy as I had hoped for. Not having the key for the door, I decided on the only other option: I leapt headfirst through the front window. Once I had straightened myself up and put my arm back into its correct socket, I left the room and tried to find myself a toaster. Passing a large, nightgown wearing man with a baseball bat in the hallway, I found the kitchen and hunted out my bread heater. However, my eyes failed to find such an item. The only thing that resided on that kitchen counter was a toaster-shaped patch of dirt.
"Excuse me", I asked the bat-wielding man outside the kitchen door. "Where is your device that makes toast from bread?"
"In t'bin", he grunted.
"Why?", I asked.
"Broke", he replied.
"How?", I asked again, getting more and more frustrated. I sighed slightly, as I felt this was the correct protocol when getting frustrated.
"Dunno", he responded again.
Alas, I was once again thwarted by fate's cruel hand. I sadly leapt headfirst through the kitchen window and made my way back home. When I got home, I let out a small tear from my left eye due to sadness. I was once again without toast, and my life had lost its meaning. I decided to kill myself by swallowing an entire pack of paracetemol. However, the packet was far too large to be swallowed, so I just watched Newsnight and masturbated.
When I got to the door of my chosen house, I was saddened to find that it was locked. Getting myself a toaster was clearly not going to be as easy as I had hoped for. Not having the key for the door, I decided on the only other option: I leapt headfirst through the front window. Once I had straightened myself up and put my arm back into its correct socket, I left the room and tried to find myself a toaster. Passing a large, nightgown wearing man with a baseball bat in the hallway, I found the kitchen and hunted out my bread heater. However, my eyes failed to find such an item. The only thing that resided on that kitchen counter was a toaster-shaped patch of dirt.
"Excuse me", I asked the bat-wielding man outside the kitchen door. "Where is your device that makes toast from bread?"
"In t'bin", he grunted.
"Why?", I asked.
"Broke", he replied.
"How?", I asked again, getting more and more frustrated. I sighed slightly, as I felt this was the correct protocol when getting frustrated.
"Dunno", he responded again.
Alas, I was once again thwarted by fate's cruel hand. I sadly leapt headfirst through the kitchen window and made my way back home. When I got home, I let out a small tear from my left eye due to sadness. I was once again without toast, and my life had lost its meaning. I decided to kill myself by swallowing an entire pack of paracetemol. However, the packet was far too large to be swallowed, so I just watched Newsnight and masturbated.
This blog entry was posted at 10:01 PM 
