French Toast Fiasco

You wake up to the smell of sizzling French toast. You have to have some, but it’s coming from your neighbor’s house and the two of you aren’t on speaking terms. How do you get the French toast?

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One thought on “French Toast Fiasco

  1. Peachykeenpie

    In the midst of my sleep, I could faintly smell something familiar, something so scrumptious for a lack of better words. I knew it was the one and only thing I couldn’t resist in the morning: French toast. Franticly, I scurried out of bed and fumbled down the stairs towards the kitchen to grab a piece of the heavenly breakfast. Unbelievably, I came face-to-face with a kitchen still cluttered from yesterdays dishes; this had to be a set up.

    I sighed and moseyed over to the couch and pulled back the drapes of the bay window; I could see Rebecca cooking through the window of her house. That witch, we hadn’t been talking since last October. She broke it of with me just because she felt it was rude that I turned down the invitation to her cat’s birthday party.

    It’s a damn cat.

    Looking closely I could see that she was the culprit behind the French toast and I clenched my jaw; boy was I jealous. I had to get my hands on a slice of delight no matter what, but it was going to have to be the hard way. You see, I had quite a special connection with French toast. It was the soul thing in this world that could make me feel that innocent childhood nostalgia; eating French toast in the daylight of the morning just before school. It was pure bliss, but now that’s gone, and this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

    I began plotting: maybe I could have Lucy jump through the window and steal the plate off the counter.

    “LUCY!” I yelled from the living room; my voiced echoed through the nearly empty house.

    My black-haired Afghan Hound trotted into the living room and sat and my feet. I patted the top of her head and gave her fives.

    “I’ve got a mission for you Lucy, I need you to get the French toast for me,” I pointed through the window at Rebecca’s house. “Okay?”

    Lucy barked while I opened the window and pushed her butt outside. She trudged around for a while before walking right next to the window of Rebecca’s house. I raised my fists in slight victory just as she hunched her back and pooped under the window. Proudly, she wagged her tail and hopped back into the house; I face palmed of course.

    I rolled up the sleeves of my rubber ducky robe and huffed.

    “Gotta be a man, gotta get that toast!” I yelled whilst charging out of my window and into the open. Quietly, I tiptoed towards Rebecca’s house and crept through the window; I was going to get that toast. While being careful I stood up straight in her kitchen and spotted the plate on the counter; it was still steaming. Just as I was about to grab the plate I put my foot down causing a jingle to erupt through the house.

    A hoard of cats came stampeding into the kitchen and attacked me. Before I silently crumbled down to the floor I snatched a piece and shoved it into my mouth while the all walked over me. I tried shaking them off but they were like flies to flypaper. Despite the cat attack, I was in heaven; that single piece of joy made the sea of cats that swallowed me 10 times better. I grasped onto the counter and tried to regain my balance when I came up to see Rebecca. She had her hand on her him with a cat in the other arm.

    “Gerald…” she said.

    “Rebecca…?” I replied, French toast hanging from my mouth.

    “Can you tell I added a dash of nutmeg and vanilla?” she cracked a grin.

    In disbelieve, I sighed and laughed. All of this over a dang piece of French toast.