TOAST FOR BREAKFAST

Well, why not? So I sharpened my elbows and headed down the block to the big Chinese department store, in search of the cheapest toaster money can buy.

It was a Saturday -- shopping day -- which means the sidewalks were especially like a mosh pit. But with my goal of purchasing a toaster, I had achieved a zen state and was not to be thwarted. I would simply fly above the crowds, just like people routinely do in Chinese movies, if it became necessary.

Seven dollars and two bruised ribs later, I was back on the street with my brand-new "Bunny" toaster. Made in China, of course. Father would be proud.

Next stop, breakfast.

I tucked the toaster under my arm and headed for the food store to buy some bread. But then it occurred to me that I could use my new appliance to toast Pop Tarts.

Up till that moment, standing in the bread aisle of a supermarket in Hong Kong, I hadn't thought about Pop Tarts for decades. But recently I had begun craving the kinds of things I used to bring on grade-school field trips as a child. Things like Planters Cheese Balls, six-packs of vanilla puddings, even those weird, pale Vienna Sausages in a can. (Which, by the way, are readily available in Hong Kong.) Comfort food, I guess.

Anyway, I walked out of the store with three boxes of Pop Tarts.

For the rest of the week I tried to cook Pop Tarts for breakfast. But it didn't really work out. The tarts turned out to be extremely crumbly -- they kept breaking into tiny pieces whenever I tried to remove them from the toaster in their toasted state. Maybe they'd been sitting on the store shelves for too long.

Finally, after a week of this, I ran out of Pop Tarts and decided I was through with the breakfast experiment.

The toaster, however, wasn't through with me.

A few mornings later, while I was pulling on my shoes, I smelled something burning. I thought to myself that a neighbor must be burning some toast.

But then, I realized with horror--the smell was coming from within my own apartment.

I raced to the kitchen, only to see smoke pouring from my Bunny toaster. A week's worth of crumbled Pop Tarts had somehow shorted out and caught on fire.

Here's a word to the wise: If your toaster ever catches on fire, do not lean directly over the toaster to try and see what’s happening inside. I did this--and at that very instant, a flame leapt up at my eyeball so fast it was as if it had just been waiting for an eye to appear there.

I jumped back in apprehension and dread. My fire alarm exploded in a cacophony of beeps. Another jet of flame shot from the Bunny toaster. I feared a Pop Tart inferno, yet I recalled that you can't throw water on an electrical appliance unless you want to electrocute yourself. What should I do?

Thankfully, the toaster solved that problem for me--by blowing a fuse somewhere and knocking out the electricity with a massive BANG.

Of course, it wasn't an inferno. It was simply some crumbs smoldering in a toaster.

But meantime, doors in the hallway started opening and closing, and I could hear the voices of my Chinese neighbors expressing curiosity and alarm. Apparently, my toaster had blown the electricity not only in my apartment, but in the whole building. The chorus in the hallway grew, until finally someone knocked on my door.

I felt a dizzy spell coming on.