Just joining us for the Hamilton Beach Toaster Chronicles? For it all to make sense, you have to first read these posts:
- A Letter to Hamilton Beach … Toaster Department, Please
- Hamilton Beach Wrote Back! Cue the Pumpkin Pop-Tarts!
- Letter #2 to Hamilton Beach (Plus an Overdue Apology to Kmart)
- Wait! Hamilton Beach Doesn’t BELIEVE Me???
- Letter #3 to Hamilton Beach (I’m a lover, not a fighter)
- Hamilton Beach Wrote Back (I can almost smell the toast. Almost!)
- Letter #4 to Hamilton Beach (How am *I* the outlaw here?)
- The Toastman Cometh!
- The 2013 Great American Toast-Off
First things first. With two identical toasters in the house, I thought it crucial that I irrefutably identify the culprit …
… and give him one last crack at his job. (A final cigarette seemed so redundant.)
He did not disappoint. (This photo was taken outside where the smoke forced us to flee.)
And then, the murder. But how?
Running down with the car?
Drowning/electrocution (Can you electrocute a toaster?)
I finally decided on a more humane method.
So I blindfolded the toaster …
… and myself …
… AND I DID IT!!!
Is this what you wanted, Hamilton Beach?
IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?!!?
(super awkward silence)
It is finished.
And now, we’ll all just have to go on with our lives and try to pretend nothing ever happened.
(cue ominous music as camera slowly zooms out and screen fades to black)