838 Albert Street in apartment 208 lived a piece of toast
was a rather interesting piece of toast. He used to be an
everyday piece of rye bread, but one morning somone put him
in the Black & Decker almond-coloured cool-sided wide-slot
toaster, set it for medium, and about 3 minutes later Alfred
was an altogether different individual.
pieces of toast have a rather brief existence. After their
transformation, they're usually smothered with peanut butter.
Or jam. Or cheez whiz. And then, they are... well... their
spirits are on their way to the big bread box in the sky.
journey was to be enitrely different.
person who rented apartment 208 at 838 Albert Street was the
same being who placed Alfred's former self in the toaster.
This person witnessed Alfred's transformation, removed him
from the toaster, and set him gently on a chilly china plate.
opening the cabinet doors, the person discovered there was
no peanut butter. So he went to the store to get some.
a rush (so that Alfred did not get too cold), the person dashed
to the stairs and started bounding down them. A step taken
too quickly turned into a tumble, and swiftly, the person
broke his neck and died.
remained on his plate, unfazed.
two long periods of darkness, Alfred realised he was going
to be around for a very long time. Two nights is a very, very
long time for a piece of toast.
he lied there. He observed. He learned.
then, he started to get old.
really couldn't do much more than that as he was just, well,
a piece of toast.
a week later the door to the apartment opened.
person who had begun Alfred's transformation from bread to
toast had no next of kin. So the landlord came in, cleaned
up, and threw Alfred out.