Breakfast

96
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EN-US
JA
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The kitchen smelled of burning toast. The toast climbed out of the toaster, crawled across the butter, and slid onto the plate. The man, who preferred toast dry, picked up the plate and chucked it against the wall as hard as he could. With a crash of surprised porcelain the plate fell screaming to the floor. As for the toast, it clung to the kitchen wall, held there by the thin layer of margarine that had replaced the butter in mid flight.

Scholarly interpretation
What do I look like, your therapist?