In a world, in a continent, in a country, in a state, in a county, in a town, in a house, in a kitchen sat a very small toaster, good for toasting only one piece of bread at a time. The yellow wire that would connect it to the wall was spilt open at one point, and the plug was a bit bent, but it was still possible for one to plug it in and use it. Even if it did pose a great risk.

That is exactly what Wilma Herbst did, plug in the toaster. Then she took a piece of whole-grain wheat bread and put it in, and walked away. Bad move, Wilma. For when the toaster was turned on, it sent a spark of electricity throughout the whole kitchen. Items jumped many feet in the air and appliances vigorously did what they were made to do without being turned on. Then, the toast in the toaster popped.

During all of this, Wilma had gone unaffected by the blast, also completely unaware of what was going on in the other room. Now, this part isn't exactly important to the story, so all the details won't be listed, but down to the bare minimum, she had to leave for a family emergency. Actually, she had no family. Except her boyfriend, who was driving her to hospital.

Her water broke.

Anyways, back to the now singed kitchen. For while, everything was still. Things that shouldn't be moving that had been moving now weren't. Except for the food.

Slowly, all edible substances that had been in close proximity of the toaster were starting to rise. Not like bread rising. No, like a zombie rising.

Suddenly, faces began to form on the toast, butter, eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, and French toast. They were moving, talking about whatever food talked about. A cape was forming on the back of the toast, and a mask on the butter, as well as melting on top that made it look like hair.

"Butter Boy!" shouted the toast.

"Yes, Super Toast?" the butter shouted back. The toast, now known as Super Toast, squinted suspiciously.

"Something is not right in the fair city of Counter-Top," he stated, and spun in a slow circle.

"Counter-Top? Is that really what we're calling it now?" Butter Boy asked.

"No time for your normal adolescent attitude, Butter Boy! Trouble is afoot!" Super Toast yelled and flew off. Butter Boy followed.

"What? We don't even have feet," he stated. The two super heroes flew on until they got to the small suburb of Pantry Town.

"Look around, Butter Boy. What do you see?" Super Toast asked. The sidekick did as he was told.

"I see the citizens of our fair city going about their daily lives. Wait! Where are the pancakes? And the eggs?" Butter Boy questioned. Super Toast put on a quizzical look.

"Exactly. You see, I have been following the movements of the eggs for days. I believe they have taken the pancakes hostage, and are now plotting to use their knowledge of syrup to make some sort of maple poison, to destroy the human race," he said. Butter Boy just raised an eyebrow.

"For days? We've been alive for what, three minutes? Where is all of this coming from?" he asked, utterly confused.

"As I said, this isn't the time, Butter Boy! We have to save the pancakes. Those eggs have plagued me with their horrid scheming for years now, and tonight will be our last, great battle. Though it pains me to do so, I'm afraid the only way to stop them once and for all is to destroy them, once and for all," Super Toast stated, over-dramatically. Butter Boy just sighed.

"You said 'once and for all' twice, you know," he muttered as they flew off to the suspected hide-out of the evil eggs. It was located in the most terrifying of all the districts, Dishwasher Village.

Super Toast knew it was their hide-out for sure, for as the heroes approached it, scrambled egg guards stepped out from behind the silverware tray. Butter Boy used his incredible cool-vision, the exact opposite of heat-vision, to freeze them. He and his higher up walked further into the cleaning machine.

"A-ha! So you have found our lair! Well it is too late, Super Toast! The pancakes have already told us all we need to know!" One of the eggs shouted.

"You'll never get away with this, Egg Lord!" Super Toast shouted back.

"Ah, but we already have! Soon the poison will be completed, spread into every maple syrup container on the planet, and wipe out the human race!" a different, smaller egg proclaimed. Finally, Butter Boy decided to speak up.

"And how exactly do you plan to get the poison into the syrup?" he asked. The eggs were speechless. They hadn't thought of that. Super Toast smirked.

Now that the eggs' spirits were completely crushed, they were easy to capture, and were not killed, just thrown into jail for life. Jail, which was located in the marvelous borough of Lazy Susan. The pancakes were freed, and life went on in the whole city of Counter-Top, and all the surrounding lands. Finally, the heroes could rest.

"Well, Butter Boy, after such a long time of crime fighting and bad-guy busting, I'm not sure I'll be able to adjust back to civilian life," Super Toast said, lying in the toaster, A.K.A. the Crust Lair. As usual, Butter Boy had no idea what he was talking about.

"Since when is seven minutes a long time?"