Anke (ankewehner) wrote,

Appliance Psychic

Originally published at You can comment here or there.

Things started for Andrew when he had a late breakfast alone, Gina having left for an early shift, with writing on his toast.


“What?” He turned his breakfast over to look at the scorchmarks at various angles and concluded that they were so clear he was not imagining things. Peering into the toaster he saw nothing unusual, no wires added that might brand the bread like this. The appliance was one they had inherited from his grandmother when she had upgraded to a little toaster oven; it was twenty years old and not some WiFi-enabled gadget. It was a weird joke, but interesting in its method.

With a shrug he put another two slices of toast in and waited. The first two were not only more crunchy than he liked, but also meanwhile cold.


Andrew’s mind went blank, not knowing if the message of the delivery was more nonsensical. When he looked at the clock to check how much time he’d have before he could expect Gina back, he found that he must have been sitting there staring at the wall for half an hour.

He made more coffee to stand in for breakfast, not wanting to eat that toast, and broke out into frantic activity to check something.

I’m quizzing my toaster. The crazy part is that it works.

Thanks to the waiting time for each answer to his general questions (“Can you understand me? What colour is my shirt?”) it was hours later when, a few pieces of toast with rather incongruous words on them in hand, he looked for the next best person for a last check if he was crazy.

His neighbour looked at him like he did not have any confidence in Andrew’s sanity, but read out the words. Andrew brushed off questions about what he was up to and hurried back to his kitchen.

“So. You can communicate. But you are stuck here, so how would you know if Gina really had sex with Mal?” He wanted it to end there, mildly browned toast and a crazy morning to be soon forgotten.


“Oh, you gotta be kidding.”

Just then keys rattled at the appartment door.


“Andrew? Why aren’t you at work? Are you not well?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine.” He stared over her shoulder at Mal, who was carrying a box of groceries, and was too busy wondering if the toaster would help him plot a double murder to come up with a decent excuse.

Based on the prompt "the toaster becomes sentinent" by Becky

This entry was also posted at You can comment wherever you prefer.
Tags: contemporary fantasy, fishbowl 2 - horror, flash fiction

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