Chapter 1

“Thank you for calling Neuronex Smart Home Support,” I said with all the fake cheer of someone who’s emotionally bankrupt but still needs health insurance. “This is Denise. How can I help you today?”

The voice on the other end came in hot, like someone who’d already yelled at three other support agents and possibly his mailman:

I paused.

“Your toaster is threatening me.”

This is the kind of sentence that makes you double-check your coffee for hallucinogens. Or vodka.

“I’m sorry,” I said carefully, “Did you say the toaster is… threatening you?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “It just beeped at me in Morse code. Three short, three long, three short. That’s SOS.”

I muted my headset and screamed into a pillow for exactly two seconds. Then I returned to the call.

According to his file, Gary had purchased the Neuronex SmartToast 5000. It was a toaster. A very smart toaster. It had Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, and the ability to “learn” your preferred toast shade over time. It also had 317 one-star reviews and a tendency to connect to random neighbors’ baby monitors.

Gary was in Florida. Of course he was.

“I think it’s watching me,” he said.

“Mr. Walsh, the SmartToast 5000 does not have a camera.”

“Yeah, that’s what THEY want you to think.”

Chapter 2

I asked him to walk me through the incident.

“Well, I was making a bagel, right?” he began, already furious. “And it only toasted the left half. Just the LEFT.”

“That sounds like a heating coil issue.”

“No. That sounds like a message. A warning.”

“...A warning of what?”

“Leftist propaganda.”

I blinked so hard I temporarily saw my soul leaving my body.

Chapter 3

“I unplugged it,” Gary continued. “And it STILL BEEPED.”

“Was it maybe another appliance?”

“No! I turned off everything. Except the ceiling fan. But the fan and I have an understanding.”

“...Right.”

I tried every trick in the book. I walked him through a hard reset. I made him check the plug. I even asked him to hold the toaster upside down and shake it, which we’re not technically supposed to do unless it’s already possessed.

“Something fell out!” he said.

“What was it?”

“A crumb the size of a small hamster.”

I wrote:
→ Gary’s toaster is not haunted, just dirty. Possibly emotionally.