"Hon, the toaster's on the fritz." "Yeah?"

"It's toasting everything super dark, real fast."

"Well, it's old. Toss it, and I'll pick up a new one after work."

***

"Hon?"

"Yeah, sweetie? What's up, I can't talk long."

"The toaster's back."

"Whaddaya mean it's back?"

"I put it in the bin this morning, and now it's back on the counter."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure it's on the counter, yes."

"No, I mean are you sure you threw it out?"

"I'm sure of that, too."

"Well, toss it again. I'm almost home."

"Can you hurry? It's turning on high every time I come near it."

***

"There, a brand new toaster."

"The old one's still in the trash?"

"Just checked."

"Okay, good."

"So, how 'bout some victory toast to break in our new appliance?"

***

"Honey, get out of bed."

"Wha? Whazit?"

"The toaster's back."

"Toaster? Whaddaya mean back?"

"I mean it's back, and it killed the new toaster."

"You've gotta be kidd—"

The small toaster sat in the middle of the counter, dingy white and labels worn away. Its larger replacement, anodized blue and chrome, lay on the floor beneath, glass viewing pane shattered. The old toaster's heating elements glowed bright orange.