My friends, Freddie Yauner is a nutjob, absolutely... but he's a nutjob with a dream. A pretty lame dream. A dream of building "The Highest Popping Toaster In The World". And here it is. It uses high-pressure CO2 and a mechanical arm to blast your toast through the ceiling and kill the woman in the apartment above yours that you swear must run on the fucking treadmill directly above your desk all day long. I mean, really? She doesn't have a patio? That thing doesn't fit in her carport? There isn't still that "outside" I've heard so much about, where people can run in the wild? That's it, I'm going up there and screaming at her until she cries. UPDATE: Dammit, she distracted me with a loaf of banana bread and I forgot what I went up there for. I think she's a witch.
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