The Toaster

The voice was calm and assured- “You are 1.5 miles from your destination and you will arrive in 3 minutes. Turn right into the parking lot”. I had to admit, modern technology was amazing. I had just Googled “Tell me the closest place where I can buy a toaster” and in moments I was on my way. 

The right turn brought me to a small building with a sign “Cramer and Miller”. I wandered in and spoke with the clerk. After asking if she sold toasters- she laughed loudly. Wiping aways a few tears she composed herself. She explained, “I bet you are looking for Bed Bath and Beyond”. I conceded I was misdirected by Google. “Well, it’s on the other side of the wall next to this building”. I decided I would scale the five foot wall and save myself some time. 

The climb was uneventful, but the fall was not good. I examined my bleeding right leg. I hoped that Bed Bath and Beyond would carry first aid kits as well as toasters. However, as I approached the front door I spotted the sign- “Closed- Out of Business”. My return over the wall didn’t go well. After another fall I staggered into Cramer and Miller- “Can you help me?” The clerk was not laughing this time. She pointed to the trail of blood from the door and offered a handful of kleenex for my forehead gash. “I just want a toaster”. She directed me to go down the hall and see the manager. Apparently my request did not fall into her job description.

I must have been quite a sight as I opened the manager’s door. His pet parakeet in a cage near the door screamed “Hi- I’m Billy, I’m Billy- Pretty Boy, Pretty Boy”. I looked away from Billy and stammered to the manager- “I don’t want any trouble- I just want a toaster”. He leaned forward- “I’m Bob, please sit down”. As I reached into my pocket for my Google maps on my cell phone Bob reached into his draw. Billy screamed “He’s got a gun, he’s got a gun”. I fell over a chair as at least 4 or 5 shots rang out as Bob fired away.

Laying there I saw blood coming out of a newly created orifice in my shoulder. I automatically dialed 911. Several coworkers rushed into the room with guns drawn. Bob, fearing an invasion of some sort, fired randomly into the group. They returned fire, of course. In a minute, there was silence, except for the emergency operator on my smartphone. She sounded quite alarmed. “Are you alright?” I raised my head over the fallen chair and scanned the room. “I’m OK but there are several bodies and Billy’s dead”. 

It seemed like hours, but it was probably just minutes. The helicopter flew low over the building and sirens were blaring from all directions. Billy laid motionless- feet up, in his cage. A small robot on wheels crawled over the bodies and looked at me. A voice came from somewhere inside it- “What do you want?” I opened one eye from my prone position and responded- “I just want a toaster”. 

From my hospital bed I watched the news reports. Tucker Carlson was interviewing a US Marshall on the scene. “Have you identified the undocumented alien responsible for this?” The marshall looked puzzled- “No.” The reporter looked at the camera and smirked ‘There you have it. Is this all due to the uncontrolled transportation of guacamole  across our border? It’s just a question?”. 

The newscast went on to indicate that one of the possible terrorists is currently under guard in the hospital. “He may be a member of the Taliban Organization to Start Terrorist Attacks- TOSTA”. They identified the victims who were shown in a row of snapshots. Last among them was Billy- with his feet up in the air. The announcer said that there have been thousands of calls for Billy and there will be a Go Fund Me collection in order to secure an appropriate service and burial for Billy. Several people were shown being interviewed. They were all crying and they offered their sympathy for the poor innocent beast. It’s ironic, I thought. I smiled knowing the cause of this entire mess was-  Billy. And Google, of course. 

The medical care was great. But I was handcuffed to the rail. Several guards with automatic rifles patrolled the hallway. A helicopter flew around the building every few minutes and I overheard a nurse talking about being spooked by the several tanks and armored vehicles in the parking lot. 

After she gave me my last spoonful of orange jello, nurse Marie asked- “Is there anything else I can do for you?” I spoke softly and slowly in order to be clearly understood with my Massachusetts accent- “Could you please tell me where I could buy a new toast …. errrr?”