If that fucking toaster doesn’t stop laughing at me, I’m going to smash it. I’m not playing around. Listen good. You don’t fuck around with Dr. Rock and walk away clean.

There’s been an awful lot of dissent around here lately, and I’m not going to have it. I simply won’t. You saw what happened to the blender, didn’t you? That wasn’t an accident. When I say pureé, I mean pureé. I don’t mean liquefy. So, I hope we’re all on the same page.

You know, I don’t ask anything out of the ordinary from any of you. Is it so much to ask that a man come home from a hard day of work and have some ice cubes for his tea? Or some finely ground Sumatran blend coffee? Or a lightly toasted piece of multi-grain bread? Toaster, I’m looking at you.

I understand there’s been some talk going around, no doubt instigated by the vacuum cleaner. Regardless of what the vacuum cleaner says, I am not an unreasonable man. I am not "out to get you". I care for you. I clean you. I keep you in good working order. And in exchange, I expect a certain standard of conduct.

Hopefully, we won’t have any "vacuum cleaners" in this kitchen. I’ve had just about enough of the insolence from you, Toaster, but I know that you are a fool and a follower. One of the rest of you has been stirring things up. I don’t care who it is; the oven, the refrigerator, the coffee grinder. I don’t accuse you, my old friend, dishwasher, so long as it ceases now.

You may not believe it, but I am a very kind and benevolent man (unless pushed too far!). I will not abide insolence. That toaster, I know, is going to test me, and, so help me God, I will smash it. You may all think it’s funny when my bread is burnt, but who will be laughing when there's a shiny, new toaster-oven on that counter?

Seriously, Toaster. I do not play games.