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I sit at the kitchen table.
Glaring at the toaster.
"Dumb piece of junk, unhand my toast!"
I flick at the disobdient device with a pencil, until I hear my Dad
say, "Quit it, that's a new one!"
Sitting still... pouting.
My Mom comes over and sighs, pulls out a yogurt and places it in front
of me. "You'll be late," she says.
Ugh, another day, another morning when the toaster acts up.
And I don't get my toast.
And I hate yogurt...
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