The Persistent Toaster Problem

Arthur woke up to a distinct lack of toast. His toaster, a venerable chrome beast named 'Sparky', was simply… inert. He prodded it. Nothing. A single, ominous tremor shook the kitchen, rattling the last vestiges of optimism in his coffee mug.

"Hmm," Arthur mused, eyeing Sparky with the kind of intense scrutiny usually reserved for tax forms. "Fuse, probably."

Another tremor, more insistent this time, sent a stack of unread bills sliding off the counter. Outside, a faint, rhythmic thudding began, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a particularly large building being gently nibbled. Arthur blinked. "Perhaps," he reconsidered, "Sparky needs to be plugged into a different socket."

He crouched, his movements slow and deliberate, when a colossal shadow fell over the window. A creature, vast and scaled, with an eye the size of a municipal bus, paused to scratch an itch on the side of what appeared to be the municipal library. Dust rained down. Car alarms wailed in a symphony of despair.

Arthur sighed, a sound that conveyed a deep disappointment usually reserved for finding an empty milk carton. "Honestly," he murmured to the toaster, "you’d think after all these years, they’d reinforce the foundations better. This is getting ridiculous. Someone will trip." He tried another socket. Still nothing. The colossal creature let out a yawn that sounded suspiciously like a city block collapsing into a rather large, scaly stomach.

"Well," Arthur stated, picking up his phone, "looks like I'm having cold cereal." He dialed a number. "Hello, Marge? Yes, it's Arthur. Listen, do you know if the hardware store's open today? I seem to have a rather persistent toaster issue, and there's a dragon eating the library again. Might need a new fuse. Or a new city. Yes, the green one. No, not the one that burned down the bowling alley last Tuesday, this one's new. Splendid. Just splendid."