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X  ________                   ____  ___     The Parable of the Inherent     X
X  \______ \   _   _ _ __ ___ \   \/  /          Holiness of Toast          X
X   |    |  \ | | | | '__/ _ \ \     /             -------------            X
X   |    `   \| |_| | | |  __/ /     \             by Random Tox            X
X  /_______  / \__,_|_|  \___|/___/\  \                                     X
Xxxxxxxxxxx\/  Blender Corporation  \_/xxxxxxx[DBC007(SBTD)-RT.920929]xxxxxxX

     
     While meditating and making a small talisman during an autumn equinox
ritual, Reverend Doktor Random Tox was asked as to the nature of his amulet
by a young seeker.

     "Does this amulet represent the Most Holy Blender to you, oh great one?"
the seeker asked.

     "It represents the passing of the seasons, the rotation of the earth
beneath the brilliant stars above and the changes of nature -- and it
symbolizes eggs and Toast." Reverend Tox replied, thinking back to his
breakfast that morning, one of the few breakfasts he has had time to eat in
his brief life.

     "I see." said the seeker, appearing pensive, yet showing some confusion.
"But what is this you say about Toast?"

     Reverend Tox proceeded to illuminate the young inquirer as to the holy
nature of Toast and burnt crumbs, and how they link the universe to our souls
and spirits, leading nature forward with firm, bold footsteps.

     "Toast parallels the cycle of the seasons, and in fact the seasons
follow the cycle of Toast. As the Toast slowly becomes warmer, the days
become colder. Ask your science teacher about heat conduction and he will
verify this, for everything need not be mystical. The Toast browns, as do to
the leaves on the mighty trees, from the elm to the oak, from the towering
redwood to the newly planted dogwood sapling. As the Toast deepens in shade,
the trees likewise deepen, and adopt earth-tones (which are quite popular
this year, and I hear plaid is coming back). The Toast darkens even more as
you forget about it, and there is nothing you can do to halt the process,
save for unplugging the Toaster, which symbolizes the halt of the seasons,
and the death of the world. The seasons are likewise unstoppable, and to
cease their turn can only mean that the gods themselves have left us.

     Nights darken and come earlier, and as the Toast burns, blackens and the
little crumbly bits fall off, so do the leaves on the trees, no more than
crisped, darkened parodies of their former selves. The black crumbs of Toast
collect at the bottom of the Toaster and leave a burnt, charred smell in your
kitchen as the fallen leaves collect in the streets of cities and hamlets
across the globe and begin to rot in their own special brown morass of
bacteria and lack of chlorophyll.

     "Your Toast becomes a blackened, inedible charcoal crust, and then the
leaves are bare, the world barren and covered with a warming blanket of snow.
You attempt, in vain, to disguise the repulsive nature of dying, benighted
Toast with a plethora of jams and sugars. Yet, beneath the coating of
flavorful pleasure, the foul, besmirched Toast remains, and the earth remains
beneath the snow. You eventually give up trying to eat it, tearfully
surrendering to the inevitable cycle. The Toast sits untouched, cooling, and
the earth grows warmer as the Toast releases the heat taken, signaling the
return of the temperate days. It is then you realize you will never in your
life eat this piece of Toast.

     "Spring comes about and in despair, you crumble the Toast and throw it
out your window for the birds. From all across the land, hundreds of newborn
birds and squirrels flock to the Toast in an effort to eat what to them is no
doubt a wonderful treat, however stale, black and sticky it may be. The Toast
has then provided nourishment for these little creatures, which are now happy
little animals. They shall then proceed to live out fruitful lives until they
are cruelly shot and killed, only to be sold as bits of feathers and fur, a
piece of skin and a yummy meal for a hungry man. And for what?  Pieces of
green paper with pictures on them.

     "This man, well fed on happy little animals, plants majestic, sweeping
fields, filled with amber waves of grain. The wheat is harvested and pounded
into white dust called flour, made into bread, which you throw in your
Toaster, and thus ensure the perpetuation of the seasons. There initiate,
does this answer satisfy you?"

     "Yes, oh wise one. But what about eggs?" the initiate asked.

     "They go very well with Toast, either scrambled or fried. I put them on
top of my Toast, and sometimes I eat cheese with it too. A truly excellent
breakfast." With this, the Reverend Doktor Random Tox ate pieces of cake, the
ritual proceeded, and a good time was had by all.


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 xX  Copyright (C) 1992 by The Durex Blender Corporation and Random Tox   Xx
xX          All Rights Reserved. Text used with kind permission.           Xx
xX                                  * * *                                  Xx
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 xX                  The Eleventh Hour BBS 617.696.3146                   Xx
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