Alex woke up to the scent of burnt toast—only it wasn’t their toaster. The appliance sat lifeless, its crumb tray empty. They cursed, slapping the side. Nothing. ‘Come on, you piece of—’ The doorbell rang. It was the mailman, holding a package addressed to “The Occupant.” Alex took it, only to find a bag of sourdough slices. “For your… toast?” they muttered, eyeing the bread like it owed them money.
The oven whirred to life, but the dial was stuck on broil. Alex jammed a slice in, only for the smoke alarm to wail. They yanked it out, charred and black, and tossed it into the trash. The cat, Sir Fluffington, watched from the counter, tail flicking. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Alex said. The cat blinked.
Next, the stovetop. Alex grabbed a skillet, but it was buried under a pile of mismatched socks. They dug it out, only to realize the burner was broken. “Of course,” they groaned. A knock. It was the neighbor, asking if Alex had seen their lost parrot. “Nope,” Alex said, slamming the door. The parrot squawked in the distance.
Desperate, Alex tried the microwave. It beeped, but the turntable was stuck. They poked it with a spatula, triggering a spark. The smell of burnt plastic filled the air. Sir Fluffington leapt off the counter, knocking over a jar of jam. Purple goo splattered the wall.
By noon, Alex ate cereal with milk that had curdled into gelatin. Sir Fluffington purred, licking jam from his paws. “You’re a menace,” Alex said, staring at the broken appliances. The cat yawned, then knocked over a vase. Alex sighed. Some days, they thought, life was just a series of bad decisions—and one very judgy cat.
