Betrayed by a pastry

A few minutes ago I was making myself a snack when disaster struck. One of my frosted strawberry poptarts came apart while I was taking it out of the toaster. This left me in an awkward position; I could ignore the poptart remnant in the--what the hell do you call the poptart groove? A toaster-hole? I’m going with chute. Yea, so I could either ignore the itty-bitty quarter poptart in the bottom of the chute and risk pissing off my mom, again, or just deal with it myself. Since I had already used the last of the toilet paper minutes before, I knew mom was going to have a difficult morning tomorrow anyway so I decided to deal with the situation before she discovered my little present while making her morning English muffin. Unfortunately, I’m not that bright.

A word of advice—sticking your hand IN A TOASTER THAT IS STILL ON isn’t the best idea, but not for the reason(s) you might thing. While trying to grab the quarter poptart, part of the hot strawberry jelly stuck to my finger and burned me a little bit. Since that strategy had not only failed but left me with first-degree burns, I took a lesson from the apes in 2001: A Space Odyssey and tried to use tools, and that’s when the wheels really came off the wagon. It turns out, sticking a fork in a toaster chute isn’t a good idea either, especially while said appliance is still plugged in. All I’ll say is that you don’t notice your eyebrows until they’re gone.

Just kidding, I’m fine and my eye brows are as bushy as ever. But still, the “stick a fork in a toaster” tactic didn’t work either and by now I was getting frustrated. Normally when I get mad, I pick up something and shake it—salt shakers, Polaroid pictures, infants (psyche!), anything to get the anger out, and this instance was no different. I picked up the toaster and shook the hell out of it, and in a few seconds, out flew the poptart chunk.

I WIN!