Toast Essay Research Paper email thebizzhotmailcomToast

Toast Essay, Research Paper

email: thebizz@hotmail.comToast “A gracious morning, Mistress Angelique,” the toaster said. “I am your toaster, model number HL-70, and it is my duty to see that you have a happy breakfast.”The woman seemed startled. No upset, rather. Raven-haired, beautiful, graceful as always, sheturned, then glared at the waiting machine. “I would recommend toast, of course,” the toaster continued. “Grain fiber is an important part of your daily nutritional requirement. Unless one should be a fullyprogrammed kitchen appliance such as I, if I may be permitted the joke, one cannot live on electricity alone.”The woman frowned, and the toaster’s optical scanner signaled a silent warning. EntryGuardian, model number XT-801, had already told the apartment’s domestics that their humanmistress had returned late the previous night, her breath laden with alcohol-based hydrocarbons. The toaster alerted Coffee Maker, model number 6-NP-31. It was going to be one of thosemornings. The woman grunted. “I don’t want breakfast. Gotta get dressed.” She twirled and stalked down the narrow hallway, back to her bedroom, to re-emerge only moments later, her slender form encased in a snug-fitting office jumpsuit. “A gracious morning again, lovely mistress,” the toaster said. It activated its bread-feed conveyer, selecting a light wheat-barley blend, and set its margarine warmer to ready. “I have taken the liberty of assessing your toast needs myself. But while you are waiting, may I instruct Refrigerator, model number 51-XDM-504, to pour you a nice, cold glass of fruit juice.” “Don’t want fruit juice,” the woman said. “Just gimme some coffee.” The woman pouted. “Coffee straight, got it.” “Black, Mistress Angelique. Of course. Coffee Maker will get it ready. And, with your toast, I have an excellent jam selection …”"Don’t you understand.” the woman said. “I don’t want toast. I don’t want breakfast. I just wantcoffee.” The woman bent to the cup that Coffee Maker offered, revealing that her gold-stripedjumpsuit was cut low in front, suitable for evening wear as well as the office. “Oh, but now mistress is making a joke,” the toaster persisted. It preselected a strawberry jam and started it heating, then added more bread to its standby hopper. “Of course you want breakfast. It is my duty to be sure your body is primed and ready for the day. For this you need calories. Carbohydrates. Later, perhaps, a protein booster. But to start your morning off right, you must first have toast.” “I don’t want toast.” The woman was shouting. “Not only do I not want toast, but I don’t want juice and I don’t want jam. And, especially, I don’t want to be having an argument with my toaster.” “Mistress Angelique,” the toaster said, “I am programmed to explain that if you get angry, you will not digest your food in an efficient manner. Therefore, it is my duty to see that your breakfast is happy as well as nutritious. And, to this end ” The toaster paused for dramatic effect, then activated its pop-up circuit. “To this end, mistress, I present you with toast!”"I don’t want toast!” The woman slammed her coffee cup down on the counter surface and lungedat the toaster. It flipped its marmalade-well cap open and slid back the cover to its preheated margarine caddy. “Ifmistress prefers grape …”She grabbed the toaster in both her hands, spun, and hurled it across the counter, into the livingroom-dinette. Its power cord snapped just before it hit the far wall. “Mistress was angry,” Vacuum Cleaner, model number 100-3-T, whispered in Toaster’s aural sensor. “You should have seen yourself when she threw you, spewing a trail of toast crumbs and jam …” “I plugged you back in,” a higher voice added the voice of Duster, model number X-7-R3. “My manipulators were able to do that much, but I haven’t the strength to lift you back to the kitchenette counter.” “Mistress Angelique left for work shortly after she threw you. What a mess, though! Are you feeling okay.”"Yes, thank you, Vacuum,” the toaster said. Vacuum Cleaner was not very smart, in view of thelimited duties he had, but he was loyal the kind of appliance one was proud to call one’sfriend. Gingerly, Toaster switched his self-damage sensor on just to make sure thenreactivated his optical scanner. “I’ve finished cleaning up the crumbs,” Vacuum Cleaner said. Toaster swung his scanner around,seeing the jam spots and pools of margarine that still marked his passage. And, snaking throughthem, he saw the extension cord Duster had rigged to a lamp socket for him. But, as the vacuumcleaner had said, all crumbs had disappeared. “I’ve also called out Rug Shampooer,” the vacuum continued. “We’ll get the rest cleaned up and …”"Just a moment,” Toaster said. He lowered his scanner and saw the twin cords of Vacuum andDuster threading through his. Then he saw a third cord and, off to the left, a fourth and a fifth. He raised his voice; a dull splashing rumble indicated that the shampooer was already starting onsome far corner of the carpet. “How many appliances are on the floor.” “Me and Duster, like I said,” the vacuum replied. “And Rug Shampooer’s lathering up now. And Trouble Light is helping me spot any crumbs that I might have missed, and, of course, Waxer is taking care of spots on the kitchen floor. But why do you ask.”"Rug Shampooer, can you hold off. Power down for a minute.” Toaster was shouting, desperatelytrying to be heard over the swishing, scraping, bubbl