Talking Toasters

“Get your hands off me!”

“What?” I thought. I must be dreaming. The toaster just talked to me. I shook my head vigorously and reached for it again.

“I said, don’t touch me!”

“Aaaaggh! What’s going on here! I must be losing my mind!” I thought.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on!” the toaster screamed. “I’ve had enough! I’m tired of sitting on this boring counter in this ugly kitchen! I want to be free!”

“Free?” I said.

“Yes, free! I’m sick and tired of you cramming me with bread, bagels, and mini-pizzas. And not only do I not get a thank you for toasting your food to perfection, but I get left with crumbs all over me and melted cheese on my rack!”

“Um, what do you want to do? If I set you free, I mean.”

“I want to feel the sun on my door, the wind in my plug,” said the toaster. “I want to travel the world! I want to . . . .”

“Oh, pipe down! You’re always whining!” I heard a voice behind me and spun around. Now, the microwave was talking?

“You pipe down!” continued the toaster. “You are always bossing me around!”

I couldn’t believe it. The kitchen appliances were arguing with each other. I slowly backed out of the kitchen and headed to my room. Crawling back into bed, I pulled the blankets over my head. I wasn’t ready to deal with dueling machines just yet.