An octogerian once bought
an Art Deco toaster,
he’d seen one advertised
beside an old poster.
He plugged it in to make a snack,
said to himself, “I’ll be right back.”
So, popped in a slice,
pushed down the ornate lever,
then recklessly threw open the fridge,
withdrew some favoured butter.
What was reckless about that?
Well, he didn’t hear the low crackle
the toaster a danger, like a livewire fence,
all in all, an electrical menace.
The bread began to burn,
then it started to quite smoke,
but did this alert the old bloke? Nope.
His dog was just a gasping
as grey smog became fire,
giving anxious tail wagging signals,
as flames grew somewhat higher.
The mutt decided to act,
and grabbed his forgetful master,
hoping to avoid a looming disaster.
But, alas too late,
dark fumes were now furious.
The toast a blackened crisp,
and his owner shocked unconscious.
So, the canine opened the fridge
and debated what else to partake,
he was a dog of practical means,
even in a little disaster had time for steak.
But, just as he licked his lips,
who should appear upon the scene
a self proclaimed queen,
Black Cat Without A Name,
a neighbourhood villian
who stole other’s meals
no matter how much they complained.
No Name began with the roast,
then rounded off with the toast,
ate the blackened bits with gusto.
all the time she’d been contemplating,
plotting from the antique pine,
well, she would eat anything that feline.
