Cold buttered toast

ani nose

I had missed out on breakfast this morning,
And I’m not of the type to do brunch,
With my nose firmly glued to the keyboard
I completely forgot about lunch.

Now by mid-afternoon I was hungry
And so, with the small dog in tow,
I wandered off into the kitchen
To see where my fancy would go.

It’s a bit of a bugger, I’m thinking,
As the cupboards all look a bit bare
And the fridge, though lit up and inviting,
Just looks back with its own vacant stare.

Never mind, there is cheese and the toaster
And that’ll do nicely, says I,
But the cheese-hound has got there before me,
And stares back with an innocent eye…

There are eggs, and perhaps I could poach them?
That is, if they’re fit for the toast;
They could have been lurking a while there
And be ready to give up the ghost.

I’m starving by this time, you’ll gather,
The toast’s going cold and won’t wait;
So the microwave might be the answer
To get the damned things on the plate.

The moral to this little story,
And there has to be one, as you know,
Is to never put eggs in the zapper…
You’ll be wearing your dinner ‘to go’.

I’d remembered their dangerous habit
And pin-pricked them, thinking them fine,
But no… they exploded regardless
With the force of an organic mine.

Poor Ani dove under the cushions,
With her nose peeking out in dismay,
And the oven’s been redecorated
With egg applied as a fine spray.

I’d forgotten, of course, till it happened
That the eggs would continue to cook,
They exploded again as I grabbed them,
And powdered egg’s not a good look….

It sticks in your hair and your sweater,
And clings like the sea to the coast;
So I had a shower for dinner
And two bits of cold buttered toast.

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email:
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31 Responses to Cold buttered toast

  1. Oh, yeah. BIG explosion 🙂 Good they weren’t green!


  2. Hahaha thanks for the laugh 😀


  3. Éilis Niamh says:

    LOL, what a bummer. Been there before.


    • Sue Vincent says:

      After the time when I let the boiled eggs explode in a dry pan years ago, you would have thought I’d have learned….;)


      • Éilis Niamh says:

        Learning and cooking don’t go together for me. Once I dumped a bunch of strawberry jam into my pasta– I thought it was pasta sauce. The pasta was not salvigeable sadly. I did learn as a kid to sniff jars of stuff before plopping contents into meals, but that just kind of slipped my mind. Then there were the two times I melted plastic. Yeah not just one, but two times! You’re not alone. 🙂


  4. Great post! Sorry about the mess. Microwaves can be vicious machines.


  5. jenanita01 says:

    Reblogged this on Anita & Jaye Dawes and commented:
    Brilliant poetry too? Is there no end to your talents…oh yes, I forgot about the microwave!


  6. alienorajt says:

    Hilarious, Sue: I actually laughed out loud as I read! With a hint of sympathy of course. xxx


  7. ksbeth says:

    Oh, I’m so sorry for all of this, but I must admit, I laughed just a bit, for it reminded me of me )


  8. Noah Weiss says:

    After the fact, you just have to laugh it off. I’ve had food become charcoal before when I have used the oven and/or microwave.


  9. hahahahahahahahahaha

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Sounds like the kind of ‘I Love Lucy” fiasco that goes on around here. Wonderfully funny poem.


  11. Darcy says:




  12. Steve says:

    You are just getting better and better.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Been there and done that. Several times. You’ve made me roar with laughter and wonder why I’m not already following you… I am now!


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