Daddy Scratches: I Propose a Toast

Photo via Flickr: thart2009

Story by Jon, aka Daddy Scratches

Constant Chatter Contributor

So, yesterday morning, I went for a short run (redundant, really, since "short" is the only kind of run I ever seem to go for, if at all), and returned home feeling all fit and spry -- and hungry. This last part is always a challenge because the extent of my culinary abilities is limited to boiling and toasting -- or so I thought. Turns out I can remove "toasting" from my resume.

For the "boiling" part, I placed a couple eggs in a pot of water on the stove. For the "toasting" part, I placed a couple slices of wheat bread in the toaster oven, and set the toast-cooking dial to what I hoped would be an appropriate setting for achieving that perfect, golden-brown finish. Already, we're off to a bad start, because, as anyone with a few brain cells knows, it takes considerably longer to boil a couple of eggs than it does to toast a couple of pieces of bread -- a fact that, had I not been high on endorphins and preoccupied with listening to Howard Stern, I probably would have considered before embarking on my culinary journey.

So the toaster oven goes "ding," and the toast, I must say, was almost the perfect shade of golden brown for which I had hoped, but the eggs still had a ways to go. I let them boil for a few more minutes, then turned the toaster oven back on, with the intention of briefly reheating my lovely, golden-brown toast so that the butter I planned to spread upon it would melt accordingly, and -- "Hey! That would create the perfect surface on which to sprinkle some sugar and cinnamon! I think I'll mix a bit of those two seasonings together right now!"

I grabbed the sugar bowl. I grabbed the cinnamon container. I grabbed a small receptacle into which I poured and mixed the two. "Hmmm. Looks like it needs a little more cinnamon." I added some. I mixed the concoction some more. "Looks good. I'll just place that down right here and get my -- TOAST! HOLY MACKEREL! AM THAT A FIRE? WHY, I DO BELIEVE IT AM!"

Yes, one of my two pieces of toast was completely engulfed in flames. Like, it appeared as though the entire slice had been dipped in JP-4 jet fuel. Its twin brother apparently was flame-retardant, which seemed really interesting to a small part of my brain, but I had no time for such musing, because, seriously, those flames were beginning to lick out of the top of the toaster-oven door and were dangerously close to all of those random pieces of paper and photos hanging from the side of the refrigerator, against which the toaster oven had, until yesterday, lived.

At that point, option number one would have been to unplug the toaster oven, carry it out the back door and dump the flaming toast into the snow. Unfortunately, the outlet into which the toaster oven was plugged is literally behind the refrigerator, at a distance from the toaster oven that is exactly the length of said toaster oven's electrical cord. Basically, there was no way to unplug the toaster oven without setting flame to my body.

Because I was unable to unplug the oven, I also was unable to douse the flames with water. I briefly attempted to blow out the flames with a blast from my super breath, but it quickly became evident that this method was going to accomplish nothing more than increase the likelihood of my home burning down.

And so I grabbed the fire extinguisher and blasted that flaming toast back to the depths of the fiery Hell from whence it came.

The events of the past four paragraphs occurred over the course of about nine seconds. The most noticeable side effect of setting a piece of wheat toast on fire in your home and then blasting it with a fire extinguisher is the positively voluminous amount of smoke that billows throughout the house, thus necessitating the opening of all of the windows and doors—which, really, is perfect on a brisk, February morning.

Think I'm joking? Exhibit A:

Daddy Scratches' burnt toaster oven

The residue on the glass door is what came out of the fire extinguisher; the brown-and-black dust on the pavement is the toast, which Zan and Jayna, upon returning home shortly after the incident occurred, promptly removed from the oven and pulverized.

Stick around; there'll be more buffoonery to come, I assure you.

About the author

Jon, aka Daddy Scratches

Daddy Scratches is Jon, aka Daddy. Since the summer of 2010, he's lived in a Philadelphia-area suburb about 20 minutes outside of the city. Prior to that, Jon lived most of his life in a Boston-area suburb about 15 minutes outside of the city. Thus ends today's geography lesson.

After 10 years as a work-from-home music journalist, Jon scored a full-time gig as a web-developer. Dressing in "business casual," driving to an office and sitting in a cubicle all day feels incredibly lame after calling his own shots for the better part of the past decade, but they're paying him a handsome sum to play on the computer and listen to his iPod all day, so things could be worse.

Jon and his wife married in Philadelphia in 1998. She has a master's degree in social work (which is helpful, since Jon's a self-described basket case who's been diagnosed with ADD) and works part time as a clinical consultant at a program that provides services for adolescents with Asperger's Syndrome and related social pragmatic disorders. Yes, she's very smart.

Their son, aka Zan, was born in June 2003. Their daughter, aka Jayna, was born in July 2005. Jon's convinced that they're the most adorable, wonderful and gifted children ever to set foot on the planet. He's also convinced that they're occasionally possessed by Satan, and he uses them to, among other things, ensure that he and his wife can never, ever, ever sleep past 5:30 a.m. and that their patience is pushed to the breaking point at least three dozen times per day.

Jon and his family live in one of the most expensive regions in the country. Did he mention that he's a writer and his wife is a social worker? The simple act of making the monthly mortgage payment generates more suspense than a Tom Clancy novel.

Hide this part.

blog comments powered by Disqus

Stories You May Have Missed

New Mommy Files: The Down 'n' Dirty on Diapers

The latest dispatch from the New Mommy Files addresses the raging controversy over cloth diapers vs. disposable. Prepare to be mesmerized by talk of such things as Pre-Folds, Envelope Shells and the St-Lucia Blues. Who knew keeping the planet green and your baby's bottom clean could be so involved?

Beauty on a Budget: Stock Up on Makeup

We've all got our addictions; that habit we just can't kick. Frances Grove certainly does, and she gets her fix at the drugstore. No, it's not a jones for Percocet that gives her the shakes. She needs the really heavy stuff: John Frieda, Revlon, Sally Hansen, L'Oreal, Roc, CoverGirl. You get the picture.

Book Review: Rain Mitchell's "Tales From the Yoga Studio"

Looking for a book that's a blast to read, but won't evaporate from your consciousness the minute you turn the last page? Rain Mitchell's "Tales from the Yoga Studio" offers a slyly clever peek into Lalaland's yoga scene. Nuanced characters, a compelling plot and more than a few laugh-out-loud moments will keep you reading this one well past your bedtime.

Contant Chatter