Parchment paper covering a rectangle, no label, no markings. Marfud didn’t even notice that, though, as has he snatched up his neighbor’s package. If they can’t keep track of their deliveries, he will. The crinkled paper dropped as Marfud’s giddy hands played out the silver casing. A toaster -boring. Marfud had a toaster, and toasters were cheap; this one did not look like an exception. It didn’t take long for Marfud to find this toaster’s new home in the dumpster on the adjacent road. Next time Marfud hoped the neighbors ordered something more worthy of his diligent surveillance of their porch.
With the disappointment of the toaster behind him, Marfud could re-begin his planning. Well, to say Marfud ever stopped planning would be a disservice to his devotion to scamming. A scam was never more than a hop skip and a jump in his mind. Despite being a loyal member of the symbolic church of con, Marfud always felt the perfect scam; the one to propel him up through the social classes was always out of reach. That night he was planning out how he could sell expired tuna cans as tuna with the ‘heavy metals removed.’ It was a somewhat of a lackluster idea that failed at keeping him awake.
Upon waking, he began the automation of his morning routine. First, grab his toothbrush, sometimes with toothpaste on it, give a few half-hearted brushes, spit, move downstairs. Then, eat coffee, I mean drink coffee, I mean make coffee and toast with some vegemite. Wait…Um. Marfud falling out of his drowsiness, stared with slack jaw at the one black toaster and the other silver toaster. Marfud was not a superstitious man nor a particularly logical man. He lived his life by accepting what happened and rejecting what didn’t. Marfud accepted that he had a magical toaster, a magical silver toaster. Time to make some money!
Marfud liked older people; they were nice to him and gave him their money. That’s why Marfud went to sell his great new toaster to the older lady he followed home from the park. To no surprise, the older lady, Margarette, already had a toaster. Oh, but not a toaster as grand as this one, not a silver toaster, not a toaster that toasted as well as this one. It was a weak argument, but for some reason, despite his somewhat seedy appearance, people could always get swept away in Marfud’s excitement. Marfud was excited when he sold things, and he was unsure why, perhaps the money that awaited him, or perhaps no reason at all. Margarette, proud of finding a toaster that could be so moving, willingly paid out. Marfud, having done what he set out to do, giddily went home to await the arrival of his magical toaster. Maybe, on the way home, he would even find another magical appliance waiting at his oblivious neighbor’s house! Marfud took turns between watching his neighbors porches and his kitchen counter. Both returned no results to his disappointment. Marfud, hoping the magic occurred in the morning and not that he had mistaken a regular toaster for magic one, went to bed early. He was not disappointed when he woke up to find three toasters on his counter the next day.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Not only did Marfud have a toaster that loyaly returned home to him, but it could also reproduce.
It was not long before Marfud woke up to find toasters overflowing from his kitchen. As promising as the opportunity looked, Marfud now had two problems: dozens of missing toasters do not go unnoticed; soon, Marfud would not have enough space for the newly arriving toasters. So Marfud decided to open a toaster store; all of these people with missing toasters would need new toasters after all.
Marfud, now moving up in society, found a lovely cozy storefront and gave his profits thus far as a deposit. The day after buying the property, Marfud, upon waking, headed downstairs to admire his toaster collection, maybe shine a few and make some vegemite toast. Marfud’s kitchen was empty.
[to be continued]