I am Toast. This is my post.
I have made a great discovery! Perhaps one of the greatest discoveries ever made since Columbus got lost and stopped in America to ask for directions. I am so excited because this represents a substantial revenue source for Toast, LLC.
Water is big business. Humans pay a lot of money for bottled water even though there are numerous sources of water all around them. They are very silly.
Toast performed much research. Here is my research:
Evian Natural Spring Water was discovered by a French “nobleman” during the French Revolution. He told people that the water source could cure diseases and restore youth and because people are silly, they paid much money for it. Today they pay even more (Toast is excellent at math and adjusted for inflation). Does it matter that a “nobleman” found it? This is clearly marketing because telling people it was the bathing place for a band of gypsies would not go over as well with potential buyers.
Fiji Natural Artesian Water comes out of the ground in Fiji but because Fiji is a far away place in the big outside, people pay much money for it.
Zephyrhills water is bottled in Zephyrhills, Florida. Have you ever driven through Zephyrhills, Florida? Toast went through there once with Mommy when going to visit grandma and there is nothing there, nothing but cemeteries. Cemeteries do not provide adequate filtration. I am pretty sure they provide no filtration. At best, it is zombie water. Zombies do not offer any nutritional value. Yet humans pay much money for it, because they are silly.
As I recently pointed out, some of the best water can be found in our house in toilet #2 at 4:23 AM and I stand by this finding. I have bottled some vintage 2012 water from this source and it continues to be the best in my collection. It was to be the source of Toast Water until my recent discovery, the greatest discovery of all time –
Mommy just-out-of-the-shower ankle water!
I am not sure just what Mommy does in the shower but the other day I found Dixie Chicken licking her ankles the moment she stepped out – she seemed so enthralled I decided to participate.
Holy Grumpy Cat! Yummy yummy water!
This water is incredible. Much better than toilet #2 at 4;23 AM and most definitely better than “French nobleman” or cemetery water. I have never been to Fiji but I am certain it is better than their water, too.
I tried the small puddles she left on the bathroom floor but it was not the same. I am pretty sure Mommy just-out-of-the-shower ankle water can increase brain activity while also stimulating weight-loss. It may also cure shortness and help you win American’s Got Talent (not The Voice though). It is like a double rainbow in a bottle!
Mommy is going to have to spend much time in the shower in order to meet bottling demands but she should be willing in order to contribute to the growth of Toast, LLC.
I have patents, trademarks, and territorial rights to file. I will be a busy Toast but it will be worth it.
First I will purchase all intellectual property claims from Dixie Chicken for one of the Greenies in my hidden stash. It is a small price to pay. I have to act before she realizes what she has stumbled into. She is not business savvy like Toast. Perhaps I will put her to work on the production line.
That is all.
I am Toast. This is my post.
I often find that I have to retrain Mommy. She is not very obedient and does not take instruction well. Tonight was such a night.
At precisely 10pm I alerted Mommy and Daddy that it was time to go to bed by jumping out from under my home-theater blankie and barking three times (the universal signal for 10pm bedtime), then went to the back door for pre-bed tee-tee. Sometimes Mommy and Daddy forget that we have to go to bed at 10pm and I have to remind them but tonight they did not give me any trouble.
After pre-bed tee-tee, I went upstairs and waited for them in the bathroom – they tend to wander in there before bedtime and I have coax them back out. If I had people treats, I would use them because sometimes they do not listen. It is very frustrating.
Mommy put the Fluffer Wolf to bed and Daddy carried Dixie Chicken upstairs as he does every night. For reasons unknown, Dixie Chicken will not go up or down the stairs at night on her own. Only during the daytime. She waits at the bottom until Daddy picks her up and brings her to the top. He does this without charging a toll – I would charge a toll. Dixie Chicken can be a burden and should be punished.
When everyone was finally upstairs, I had to go and retrieve them from the bathroom no less than five times! I do not understand why they have to be so difficult. When they finally emerged, I waited patiently by my bed for Mommy to properly fluff and position my bedtime blankies. She reached into my bed, quickly shuffled them around, then said goodnight and climbed into her own bed.
I stared at her in utter disappointment.
I have spent ten years training her to properly make my bed and she still gets it wrong. How is this possible? What does a Toast need to do?
I am going to write it down. I will make a list. Here is my list:
– Remove all blankies from my bed
– Shake each blankie for no less than thirty seconds to ensure all creases are removed
– Arrange the blankies in order from darkest to lightest, then begin a hole count
– Return blankies to my bed based on hole count – those with the most holes should be placed toward the back to allow for nightly hole creation which must start no later than 10:15
– Blankies should be folded three times (not four, that would be silly – it must be an odd number)
– Red blankies must always be on top
– Blue blankies must be under red (unless there is a green one, then blue should be on top)
– If the temperature is to be below 73 degrees, I require six blankies
– If the temperature is to be above 76 degrees, I require three blankies
– If Dixie Chicken is using her brown blankie, then I should have my purple blankie
– If Dixie Chicken is using her purple blankie, then the brown blankie should be folded and placed on top of her bed
…that completes Monday’s list. The Tuesday procedure is just as simple. I do not understand why this has to be so difficult for her to complete.
That is all.
I am Toast. This is my post.
Normally the home theater is my favorite room in the whole house. It’s dark and quiet. I have a big comfy couch and my favorite blankie with the correct number of holes. I have spent hours in there contemplating all that a Toast has to contemplate (which is substantial) with Mommy and Daddy sitting next to me. Dixie Chicken sits between them and the Fluffer Wolf lays on the floor because he is not permitted on the furniture under any circumstance. Occasionally I have to remind him of this.
Sometimes Mommy sprays Bitter Apple. I do not like Bitter Apple.
Sometimes there is Movie-Time.
Movie-Time is a special time because Mommy and Daddy turn off all the lights creating the perfect environment for not only contemplating but also pondering. While I am good at contemplating, I am an excellent ponderer. Movie-Time allows me to ponder for at least two hours which is the perfect amount. I can’t solve all the world’s problems if I don’t ponder for at least two hours and most definitely not if I don’t contemplate. Maybe half the world’s problems but not all.
Mommy and Daddy then started a movie called “Pet Semetary”.
This family moved in across the street from Herman Munster. I imagine they got a good deal on the house.
Herman Munster then immediately told them that the road eats pets. I have many reasons to fear the Big Outside but hungry streets never crossed my mind. This is worse than the Hungry Eyes problem first identified by a wise man named Eric Carmen more than thirty years ago.
While contemplating (and sometimes pondering) I have thought about world hunger, but I do not have a solution to feeding hungry streets or hungry eyes, nor do I think we should have one; maybe they should stay hungry.
The family’s feline gets smooshed by a truck and has to go to the big farm in the sky so they take it deep into the woods of the Big Outside and bury it. Then it comes back! Zombie Cat!
Dead cat = good cat
Undead cat = bad cat
Toast is very good at algebra and this is a very bad equation.
Then their little boy gets smooshed by a different truck and they bury him in the same spot of the Big Outside and he comes back as a zombie!
Zombies are for killing, not making more. This is a horrible idea.
The zombies are mean and they kill Herman Munster and the mommy and… I could no longer watch. I went to my room and hid.
I bury much in the Big Outside. What if the things I buried come back as zombies that want to kill Toast?
There are toys, ice cubes, bones, blankie pieces… so much. I bury much.
I could go outside and dig everything up – I keep a detailed map. But what if it already turned into a zombie?
Zombie ice cubes could be waiting in the trees!
I’ve been preparing Mommy and Daddy for the zombie apocalypse, what if I actually started it? What if it starts with zombie ice cubes? How do you kill a zombie ice cube?
I am never ever going to the Big Outside again. If Dakota the Fluffer Wolf and Dixie Chicken go out and don’t come back I will know what happened. I’m pretty sure zombie ice cubes can not get up the stairs to my room – maybe they’re not in the trees either. I do not know.
Why would someone make a movie that teaches people how to make zombies? This is not responsible.
I am no longer sure Mommy and Daddy are fit to pick Movie-Time movies any more. There will be a stern talking to.
3:18 AM tee-tee time is canceled until further notice. I am too frustrated to discuss this right now.
That is all.
I am Toast. This is my post.
Something is afoot in the dwelling.
From the safety of Designated Hiding Spot #34 (located behind the couch on the first floor) I just watched Mommy and Daddy pull Dakota the Fluffer Wolf from the big outside into the living room. There is another leak in the sky and water is falling all over the yard. The wolf had been playing in the mud for some time with Dixie Chicken until his recent discovery and retrieval.
They then tried to wrap him in a large towel but he quickly evaded capture and hid under the piano. This proved to be a poor decision because Mommy and Daddy surrounded him and pulled him out. He brought much mud in from the big outside and apparently planned to store it here because he shook it all off. I am unsure as to how he plans to retrieve it.
Mommy and Daddy are no longer using their inside voices.
Standing perfectly still (because nobody can see me as long as I don’t move) I watch as they pull the Fluffer Wolf past me, up the stairs and through the Great Wall of Wood to the second floor of the dwelling.
It has been some time since the wolf was permitted on the second floor, this is highly unusual. I do not appreciate Mommy and Daddy making such a decision without first consulting me. Had I known, I would have taken the time to hide my toys. I had just finished taking weekly inventory and they were still arranged in alphabetical order on the floor.
While normally I would not pursue the wolf, I cannot leave my possessions at risk. I’m going in…
Okay, I’m back.
I relocated my toys to Designated Hiding Spot #17 (under Mommy and Daddy’s bed).
They have moved the wolf into the bathroom. I cannot accurately describe the noise coming from the Fluffer Wolf but I will attempt it: If Mariah Carey were to rollerblade into Beyonce while both were singing the national anthem, then stepped on each other’s feet repeatedly, it may sound similar. Here is an example.
Cautiously, I enter the bathroom to discover all three of them in the small room that leaks from the ceiling with the transparent door closed. I do not understand why they would take the wolf from water outside only to put him in more water inside. In a recent review of household bills, I discovered our water bill was high. I brought this to Daddy’s attention but he clearly forgot because this is a waste of resources.
This will go into my report.
A moment later, the Fluffer Wolf burst out the transparent door and ran past me with Daddy chasing closely behind. I remained perfectly still so they could not see me. Daddy then returned with a very muddy Dixie Chicken and brought her into the bathroom.
This is a disturbing trend.
There are only three dogs in this dwelling and –
This is bath-time. Toast is not a fan of bath-time. But how could it be? I marked the last bath-time on my Grumpy Cat calendar and it has only been 123 days.
I must hide.
Mommy and Daddy are very smart and proven to be worthy adversaries with exceptional tracking skills. They have discovered many of my hiding spots and safe places throughout the dwelling. But I have one that I have saved for just such an emergency. Quickly I cross the bedroom and scurry into Dixie Chicken’s bed.
Although it is located relatively close to mine (okay, next to mine), they will not find me here. Why would I be in Dixie Chicken’s bed? There is no reason. All the good blankies are secured in mine. Frankly, her bed smells slightly of spicy Chinese food and cheese; it is not an enjoyable space. It is pure genius. Toast is an excellent hider.
Feel free to take a moment to ponder my genius.
Someone is approaching.
Perhaps if I hold perfectly still so they can’t see me –
Mommy has captured me!
Mommy has apparently developed the ability to see me even when I’m perfectly still – how is this possible?!?
I may have said something like, “Mommy, could you kindly unhand me and place me back on the floor? I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you in advance for your overwhelming kindness and understanding…”
If you were to ask her, she may tell you my words were not so polite. If she tells you this, she is lying. Toast is always polite.
Regardless, in a cruelness far more cruel than the cruelest cruel of crueldom, she carries me into the small room and holds me under the water.
I spot Dixie Chicken on the floor, covered in suds, playing with the bubbles. Does she not understand the dire circumstances of our situation?
She is clearly insane.
After hours (perhaps minutes, I may have blacked out) of this torture akin to water-boarding and the plucking of whiskers, Mommy releases me. I call back for Dixie Chicken to follow but she remains. No matter, she is dead to me.
I run downstairs only to come face to face with a soggy Fluffer Wolf standing over the garbage can in the kitchen. Apparently Mommy and Daddy had left it out and he was taking the opportunity to exact revenge for bath-time by removing the contents and spreading them across the kitchen floor.
While I would normally scoff at the Fluffer Wolf for such adolescent behavior, I’m on board with bath-time revenge. Without a word between us, I begin to arrange the garbage in alphabetical order, just me and the enemy of my enemy.
That is all.
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