As the loud beeping alarm rang through the kitchen, Sarah jumped. Thick black smoke came pouring out of the toaster, quickly filling the room.
"Ugh, not again!" Sarah groaned, rushing to open the windows and waving away the smoke with a dish towel. Her burnt toast breakfast had become a dreaded, unwanted morning routine for the past few weeks.
Her husband Rob stumbled into the kitchen, eyes half-open and hair sticking out. "What's happening?" he mumbled sleepily, squinting through the hazy smoke.
"I did it again," Sarah admitted shyly, waving her hand in front of her face. "I got distracted and let the stupid toast burn up completely."
Rob sighed and walked over to the loud beeping alarm, hitting the button to blessedly make the constant noise stop. "Babe, I really think we need to get you a new toaster," he said, turning to her. "One of those fancy ones that doesn't burn everything black."
"It's not the toaster, it's me!" Sarah snapped, feeling her frustration rise. "I'm just a hopelessly scatterbrained mess who can't even make frozen waffles without setting off the fire alarms!"
Seeing her upset, Rob quickly crossed the room and hugged her close. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," he said soothingly, rubbing her back. "We all have strengths and weaknesses in the kitchen. You're an amazing cook when it comes to real meals."
Sarah relaxed into his comforting hug. "I guess you're right. Still doesn't help that I've burned up two more good pieces of bread before 7am."
"Well, how about this?" Rob said, getting an idea. "Why don't I take over toasting duties for a while? You can be in charge of making coffee instead."
Sarah raised one eyebrow skeptically. "And risk you accidentally starting a fire while making coffee? I don't think our poor smoke alarms could handle that."
Rob threw his head back laughing. "Good point. But seriously, let's split up breakfast. You make the coffee, I'll make the toast."
"Deal," Sarah agreed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
They worked together to clear away the burnt crumbs and unplug the scorched toaster. As Rob examined it closely, turning it over, another idea struck him.
"You know what we really need? One of those toaster ovens with a glass window. That way we can actually see when the toast is burning instead of guessing."
Sarah considered this as she measured out the coffee grounds. "Or we could go old-school and get one of those long toasters from the 1950s. You know, the ones that make hot dog shaped toast slices?"
Rob made a sour face. "Hot dog toast? Who would actually want that?"
"Kids, obviously!" Sarah said with a grin. "We could make smiley faces or spell out words with the bread. It would be perfect for when we eventually have children someday."
The thought of having kids with Sarah warmed Rob's heart. She was truly one-of-a-kind, even if she did nearly burn down the house in her quest for the perfect morning toast.
Once the kitchen was aired out, Rob turned on the morning news while Sarah tried safely using the coffee maker. A breaking news story about a local breakfast restaurant caught their attention.
"...where an angry argument broke out between the owner and a recently fired chef in front of customers," the reporter said as shaky footage played. "Witnesses claim the irate chef caused a scene by angrily proposing a 'toast' to his former boss."
The camera cut to video from the restaurant. A large, burly man in a chef's coat stood on a table, holding a plate with two pieces of buttered toast high above his head.
"A toast to Robert Manchester!" the angry chef shouted venomously. "Owner of Sunny Side Up and the biggest jerk in Philadelphia!"
With that, the furious man slammed the plate of toast down hard into the face of a smaller man starting to stand up from his chair. Screams erupted from the stunned dining room as Manchester collapsed back into his seat, toast crumbs raining down.
Sarah gasped aloud, hands flying to cover her mouth. "Oh no! Who would've thought plain old toast could be used as a weapon?"
The news showed an interview with a young blonde waitress who witnessed the toast assault.
"It was seriously the craziest thing I've ever seen," she told the reporter with wide, shocked eyes. "One second Ralph was just toasting Robert weirdly, and the next he was attacking him! With bread!"
"Well damn," Rob chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I guess the old saying is true - that chef clearly had a bad case of hot-headedness that morning. Must have really crumbled under the pressure of running Manchester's kitchen."
Sarah groaned at his lame puns. "Really? Toast jokes? That's the best you could come up with?"
"What?" Rob grinned shamelessly. "I'm just saying, the guy obviously had a short fuse. He clearly didn't handle getting fired well at all."
Sarah rolled her eyes fondly and handed him a steaming mug of coffee before sipping her own. While the news moved on, the bizarre restaurant assault scene was seared into their minds. Who could have imagined such an innocent breakfast food could drive someone to violence?
Suddenly, a new high-pitched beeping came from the kitchen. Sarah's brow furrowed as she quickly set down her coffee.
"Um, Rob? Please tell me you didn't try using the oven for toast."
"What? No way!" Rob looked around until he spotted smoke wafting from the stovetop.
They hurried over to find the brand new toaster oven Sarah bought sitting on a burner...with flames licking out the open door.
"Sarah!" Rob shouted in disbelief. "Why is the toaster oven on fire?"
"Oh no!" she cried, quickly turning off the burner. "I was just trying to make us cinnamon raisin toast for breakfast!"
Using oven mitts, Rob carefully removed the burning appliance and opened the glass door. A charred, blackened hockey puck-sized disc tumbled out - what was once a piece of bread.
Rob couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous situation, examining the burnt disc. "Well would you look at that! The ghost of burnt toast strikes again!"
They stared at the inedible remains a beat before dissolving into laughter. Sarah leaned against Rob's chest, giggles escaping as he hugged her.
"Okay, new rule," she finally wheezed out. "We're officially banned from making our own toast again. Tomorrow, we go to the diner and get it from the professionals."
"Deal," Rob agreed with a chuckle, kissing the top of her head. At least their breakfast failure couldn't be weaponized like that poor guy's toast.
From now on, they'd get their morning carbs from experts. Anything to avoid being assaulted by a rogue English muffin or ghostly burnt toast.
