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Life has never been easy for Nat Jones. He’s a hard-working man, who thinks about things the way a hard-working man ought to. And few things in his life have been more hard work than watching his son’s skating rehearsals, trying to pretend he understands what a triple axel tilt is.
“Would you like some toast?”
He’s still startled by that machine on the kitchen bench greeting him whenever he gets home. It was a present from one of the lad’s friends, a toaster that could wish you good morning – yuppie nonsense, Nat wanted to brush it aside as, but it was free, and he’s gotten rather fond of the little thing in the months since.
“No, not tonight Toaster,” he says, taking a seat in front of it, and its little lights flash with disappointment.
“Oh, please have some toast,” it begs, “I’ve been waiting ever so patiently, you know, planning the exact right way to crisp the edges, it’s not fair if I don’t get to at least try…”
Nat can’t help but chuckle. It’s absurd, but it is nice someone is so excited to see him home. “Oh alright then, one slice.” He walks over to the fridge to grab the bread – Warburton’s, naturally – and when he pops it inside, the Toaster hums in delight.
“Oh, that feels good, it’s so deep inside me,” the Toaster’s electronic voice moans. “It’s getting hotter… and hotter… oh yes.”
A blush colours Nat’s cheeks. He’s sure the poor thing means nothing by it – it’s only a machine, for god’s sakes – but if he didn’t know better, he’d say his toaster was trying to seduce him.
“I only wish you’d fill my other slot as well.”
All of a sudden the toast pops up, to his great relief. “Thank you,” he says, reaching for a plate and the Marmite.
As he removes the toast, the toaster whines at the loss. “Are you sure you don’t want more toast?” it asks, its lights flashing noticeably slower than usual.
Nat takes a bite. It is crisped to perfection, and he gathers he shouldn’t be surprised – this toaster knows him so well by now. It gives a quiet electronic hum of disappointment, and Nat reconsiders. “Tell you what, why don’t you make some for the lad when he gets home? He’ll need the energy.”
He still doesn’t know what a triple axel tilt is, but it looked bloody exhausting, he can say that much.