The Toaster's Existential Crisis

Agnes had a particularly unenthusiastic Tuesday. Her toaster, a relic from the age before planned obsolescence became a personal hobby for manufacturers, decided to emit a plume of smoke rather than a piece of toast. She stared at it, then at the charred bread. 'Well,' she mused, 'it certainly achieved a state of non-bread.' Her neighbor, Brenda, peering over the fence, inquired, 'Everything alright, Agnes? Smells a bit... toasted.' Agnes, without turning, replied, 'Indeed. The bread has completed its existential journey from grain to carbon. I suppose it's a form of progress, if one values entropy.' Brenda paused. 'Right. So, you're getting a new toaster?' Agnes sighed, a tiny wisp of resignation. 'One must, mustn't one? Though I expect similar theatrical performances from its successor. They all aspire to be tiny, domestic dragons in the end.'