copy. copy. copy. tote.

by chris.

"copy. copy. copy. tote. copy. copy. copy. tote."

he went through the whole room like this, pointing at each object on the tables
repeating the pattern. copy. copy. copy. tote. like duck duck goose. the objects
rolled their eyes when he came by them. he had passed each one, about ten to a
table, and about thirty tables, at least twenty times that day. it was noon.

one of the objects tried to jump up and bite him this time. it was a toaster.
it didn't realize that it was made of galvanized steel and so couldn't possibly
perform the act of closing its mouth.

he saw this happen, and he stopped in front of the toaster. the toaster had been
tote.

"you're a tote," he said to the toaster. spit hung down from his lip in a long
strand and his shirt was wet where much of his saliva had clung. he
turned his head to look at the toaster, the strand moving with his head and waving
in the air.

"so? what's tote?" the toaster said. but he didn't really say it. it's a toaster.

"totes don't bite," he said. he picked up the toaster slowly and tucked it under
his arm. his spittle clinged to it and ran down its shiny metallic side. with each
step he was chanting tote. "tote. tote. tote."

the toaster was getting a little more nervous. nobody in the past six years that
he'd been doing this, copy copy copy tote, had ever stood up to him. maybe, it
thought, this is my promotion. maybe, it thought, i get to be sold now.

he was still chanting as he took the toaster into a room away from the warehouse that
the toaster nor any other object in the warehouse had ever seen before. it was the
bathroom. an old clawfoot tub sat in the middle of the back wall. the shower curtain
had been pulled down long ago, and now only the bar and rusted rings circled above
the tub.

he took the toaster to the outlet by the sink and plugged it in, setting it down on
the counter top and pushing the lever down so that the coils inside started to turn
red.

"finally!" the toaster thought. "i'm being sold! i'm being tested!"

he went to the bathtub and filled it up with water. "tote. tote. tote." when it was
full he turned off the faucet and picked up the toaster, throwing it into the pool
of water. the coils hissed when the water hit them and sparks flew out from the
plug and the toaster tried to scream, but it couldn't. it's a toaster.

the lights flickered in the bathroom and the warehouse for a few moments. he kept
chanting tote, but louder now so you could hear it over the noise. finally the
breaker blew and the toaster was finished.

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