The
Bagel Didn’t Fit
They
held a wake for the toaster. I didn't participate. The cutlery
served as ushers and all the glassware and most of the ceramics
participated. Didn't tell them a wake doesn't need ushers. I can
let some errors ride. The microwave gave the eulogy. All about how
they had been neighbors, and that even though the toaster tended to
be a bit rigid in his views, she felt that at bottom he was a good
soul. It went on for a very long time.
"When
are you guys going to be done?" I said, "because I'm
feeling a bit hungry." If looks could kill! One of the juice
glasses, the "Land Before Time" one with Sarah on it,
actually started to cry.
“It
was an accident!” I said.
"How
could you be so insensitive!?" one of the Mexican bowls gasped.
She fanned herself and hyperventilated: "I need some air."
I tried to lift her up to the window sill, but she shied away like I
might drop her.
"Well,
I'll get something from a restaurant. Don't wait up." A chilly
silence followed me outdoors.
The
van was surly. "You know, Jack," she said, "you can
be a real jerk."
"Yeah,
sorry," I said. "Let's go to Taco Bell." At least
she drove me over there. I was half afraid that she would refuse. I
went through the drive-through. At the order panel I asked for a
couple of chicken soft tacos and a margarita.
"What?
I can't hear you! You'll have to go back through the line."
I
repeated myself. I shouted. I used words of one syllable. The
panel seemed to understand less each time, almost like it wasn't
listening. "What's the matter with that thing?"
"Word
travels fast. She just married a toaster," the van replied.
"Maybe a human wouldn't understand."
Publ. Daily Cabal 2007
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