Pop up toaster . . !

14

We need a new pop up toaster? I told my wife. “What’s wrong with the old one?” “Too much pop in its up!” I said and screamed as there was the sound of gunfire and I dived for cover. “Bob! It’s only the pop up!” “I told you,” I whispered and scrambled from behind the wife.

The pop up toaster in the departmental store looked like a spaceship. “It looks like a spaceship!” I told the salesman doubtfully. “Latest technology!” he grinned. “So what does it do?” “Tells you when its ready to pop!” “Why should it tell me?” I asked, “What’s wrong with it just popping up?”

“And have people thinking its gunfire?” asked the salesman grinning at me, “do you know the number of people startled, shocked and shaken when the pop up pops up suddenly?” “You’re telling me!” I told the salesman as I glanced lovingly at the spaceship. “You want a male or female voice?” “I have a choice?” “Latest technology!” said the salesman, “just before she pops she sings out, “I’m going to pop! I’m going to pop! It brings a lot of sensuality to the breakfast table!”

“I need this woman!” I said, “wrap her up!” “It looks like a spaceship!” said my wife as I undid the wrapping from the pop up and placed it on the table. “She’s unique!” I said as I placed two slices in the pop up. “She?” asked the wife then watched the toaster curiously. “I’m going to pop! I’m going to pop!” cried the toaster.

“Oh no you’re not!” said the wife turning the heater lever higher. “What are you doing?” I asked puzzled. “I’m not having woman popping around my home!” “I’m going to pop! I’m going to pop!” cried the sweet voice. The wife switched the toaster off. “You are returning the toaster?” asked the salesman, “didn’t you like her crying out before she popped?” “I did, but the wife didn’t!” “Jealous women!” muttered the salesman, “Same problem all over! Why don’t you take the male voice? Your wife may like it!”

“What!” I yelled, “and have another man popping all over my house?” I screamed as the old pop up toaster popped and I dived for cover, “Why do you always dive behind me?” asked the wife. “You can’t be too careful!” I whispered, “I’d hate being shot by a jealous toaster..!”

 

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