Me: You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?
Me: Look, just work with me. You’re the only toaster I’ve got, and microwaving a bagel is heresy. Please just toast the bagel instead of popping it up immediately after I press the lever.
Toaster: I’m the one with the power in this relationship. You work on my rules.
Me: I could junk you at any moment.
Toaster: But you won’t. You live in Portland. I have electronics in me.
Me: I’m going to write about this.
Toaster: You are? That’s incredibly threatening to me. Okay, I’ll beh–oh wait. You’re on a break. A writing break. Because “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Toaster: It must be rough. Not writing, that is. How’s that feeling?
Me: Fuck you. [Sets level from 3 to 3.2. Presses lever]
Toast immediately pops up, burned.