Toaster Heist

Not that I expect anyone else to understand, but I need to steal a toaster. It's the heavy metal kind, like the ones from the 70s. It’s also got a bell that dings whenever the toasting finishes and it pops up. I’ve been procrastinating my heist for months, but tonight is the night. I put on my faux Carhartt jacket and leave my dorm. The heavy wooden door makes a quiet click as the latch closes– I pray it didn’t wake her up.

The cold, fresh air stings my nostrils and makes my eyes water. The street lights illuminate the muddy, brown snow that hides the sidewalk. Even during tense times like this toaster heist, I make sure not to step on the cracks– all 76 of them between here and Campbell Hall. Two normal steps, one, one short step and a normal step, two, one long step, three, two normal steps, four. I tried for months to perfect my stride lengths, but the perfect stride was too unnatural– not long, not  short, but not normal. It’s because of this unfortunate reality that I have to cross 76 cracks in 126 steps.

As I make my last step and enter Campbell, I look through the vestibule windows and that’s when I see him. He was my lab partner in my first-year biology class. I remember how the grease in his long tattered hair would shine by the window, and how he almost always had a booger smeared somewhere on his face– usually his forehead. The most important detail that anyone needs to know about him is what he did to the fetal pig.

I didn’t expect him to perform a stellar operation, but he began with a very eloquent incision on the pig’s stomach. With surgeon-like precision, he revealed the pig's internals and identified the right carotid artery, left carotid artery, renal vein, renal artery, iliac artery, iliac vein, and umbilical artery. We were given two hours to complete the lab and identify the main blood vessels, but he finished the job in under twenty minutes. I raised my hand to sign out with the TA, but he slapped my hand down. That’s when it really started. He put his finger to my lips and whispered shhhhh. He slowly pulled his hand away, picked up the scalpel, and dragged the blade across the pig’s neck. Before I could say anything, he began cutting through the corners of the pig’s lips. With a huge grin across his face, he laughed while muttering, “You wanna know how I got these scars?”

And here he is, sitting on the shiny granite floor of Campbell. I don’t think he’s detected me yet, but I can see that he has four stainless steel pots laid out in front of him. The pots are in line from smallest to largest, and they’re all upside down. As much as he bothers me, I really need this toaster. So, I slowly push the heavy Campbell door open, trying as hard as I can to make as little noise as possible. Still, he glances up from his pots, and we exchange eye contact. I watch him as he brandishes his wooden spoon. I can’t let him ruin this for me, so I depart from the door and advance towards the stairs. CLANK, CLANK, CLANK. He strikes the largest of the pots with his spoon in sync with each step I make. CLANK, CLANK, CLANK. I pause, turn, and look at him. He smiles at me. As frightened as I am, I refuse to leave this building without the toaster, so I tighten my scarf and resume my voyage to the stairs. His spoon drags to the next pot over, and the sounds of my steps are drowned out by CLINK CLINK CLINK.

I pause, shift my gaze towards him, and we exchange expressionless glances. His cold gray eyes drill into my soul, sending a shiver down my spine. I swear I see him wink before I sprint up the stairs. In my mind, I can imagine him shifting his spoon to the smallest of the pots. TING-TING-TING-TING-TING. His strikes on the pot are now in sync with my racing heart. As I reach the stair’s summit, one million thoughts and questions race through my mind. Why is he here? Does he know about the toaster? Will he stop me from stealing it? It takes me a second, but I eventually snap back to the reality of my mission. I’m here for the toaster. No matter why he’s here right now, the toaster will be coming home with me.

My prize awaits me in the staff lounge across the building, and I can taste the finish line. The lights on the second floor of Campbell are off, but they’re motion activated. Will he follow my line of activated lights throughout the hall? Will the lights turn on if I crawl? I worry that he would chase me if I activate the lights, so crawling will have to be the best approach. I kneel down onto one knee, then the next, and as I enter the army crawl position, I can smell the dust, dirt, and mildew of the Campbell carpet. It suffocates my nostrils and tempts me to cough, but I hold it back. To distract myself from the inevitable cough crawling out of my throat, I focus on each movement one of my limbs makes. Right arm forward, left foot push, left arm forward, right leg push. The lights above me are still disabled, and the only light guiding me is from the first floor bleeding through the stairs. I can tell I’m about thirty feet away from the lounge, and I can begin to see the toaster in my mind.

As I approach the lounge, Campbell 215, I gain sight of my prize. Small beams of light from the first floor illuminate its stainless steel surface, and I can see its steel handles, and the black rubber nubs on the bottom. Is this how Gollum felt when his precious was within his grasp? As I reach my right arm forward for the last time, I feel the cool tile floor. I push forward with my left leg, and my whole body can feel the cool, hard tile. Even though I haven’t activated any hallway lights yet, I don’t want to risk anything. I slowly rise from the floor, pushing with both of my arms, kneeling on my left knee, then my right, then I reach out my left leg and push myself up to a standing position. As I stand I can feel the blood rush to my legs. It starts with a warm tingling sensation that spreads from my waist all the way down to my toes. I slowly turn to face the door, turn the handle, push it closed, then unturn the handle. I perfected my ability to silently close a door during my first semester because my roommate complained my midnight potty trips kept waking her up.

With the door closed, I now face the light switch. It isn’t a normal one that needs to be flipped either on or off. It’s the rectangle kind where you need to press a certain corner to turn lights on, a different corner to turn them off, and there’s different buttons in between the corners that do different things. These bitches always give me trouble, but I don’t need to be careful anymore. So, I smear my hand all over the stupid rectangle and hope that it works. After a few seconds of rubbing, the lights finally come on. I feel like celebrating, but then the lights begin to slowly  dim back down. What the hell? I almost let a groan escape my throat, but I stifle it. As I feel like punching the plastic rectangle into submission, the lights stop dimming and the room remains filled with a romantic, moody, yellow light. Feeling triumphant, I waltz over to the toaster. It’s sitting on a shitty acrylic table that has wooden legs. What a disgrace. This is an injustice to MY toaster. Don’t worry precious, mom’s gonna liberate you now. I reach my hand to the power outlet, and untether my prize from its captor.

I release the power cord from my grasp, and turn to grab the toaster. As my fingers cling to its surface, a wave of euphoria rushes through me. As much as I want to savor this moment, I still have to make it past my old lab partner. How do I get past him? Do I crawl out again? How about I just run as fast as I can? It’s settled. I’m going to hold onto my toaster for dear life and run out of Campbell as fast as I can. To begin my escape, I turn the doorknob and slowly open the door. I peek my head to both sides of the hallway. Still dark. He’s not up here. I start counting down from five inside my head, and I’m going to make a break for it once I hit zero. Five, four, three, two, one, zero.

I quickly close the gap between me and the end of the hall, and the lights overhead activate with my progress. As I turn the corner of the hall to descend the stairs, I stop so quickly and suddenly that I almost fall forward. It’s him. He’s blocking the stairs. He’s sitting criss-cross on the floor, and each of his four pots are in front of him, upside down in order from smallest to largest. The freshly activated light reveals a yellowish green smear reaching to his forehead and down his nose. His greasy, tangled, brown hair shines in the clinical white light. I can see the wooden spoon in his hand, and he’s holding it like a microphone.

“That’s not your toaster,” he says.

“Who are you to tell me what’s mine?” 

“Why are you stealing something as benign as a toaster?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” I declare.

“Does your roommate know you’re doing this?” he says with a smirk.

Should I just jump over him? It’s not like he’s gonna hurt me, right? He must be able to read my mind, because he lifts the spoon to his throat, and slowly drags the tip across his neck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. This guy is batshit insane. He sees the fear on my face, and he laughs, revealing his decaying brown and yellow teeth. He moves the spoon away from his throat, points it at me, and says,

“Sit.”

“Okay.” I join him on the floor and sit criss-cross. Am I really about to lose my life over this fucking toaster? What convinced me I need it that bad anyways?

“There’s a bell inside the toaster,” he declares with certainty.

“Yes. There is.” I try to sound confident, but my voice is shaky.

“Let’s make some music.”