Man Vs Machine

• Emily Flanagan
• Short Story
• 2013

The snarling inferno, huffed a fiery red glow. The man wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, it can’t be too long now, he thought. He reached out and grasped the hilt of the knife, swivelling around on his cotton clad toes. He glared at the clamped metal jaws, its mouth spread in a searing sneer, and waited. Black, sinuous arms, ticked tauntingly slow, declaring the passing of the elongated seconds.
On the bench, the metallic entity began to gurgle, its onslaught of blazing malice spluttered and wavered. The man scowled, as a griping rumble slithered through his stomach. He’d had enough he couldn’t wait any longer; he lashed out, striking the glowing Cancel button. The metal grate jarred, shooting up. The man winced at the shuddering crack as the teeth splintered, ensnaring the toasty prisoner. The man swore and raked his fingers through his slicked hair. His chest thudded and hand quivered as he slowly reached his out, his hand gripping a sleek, gleaming knife. His breath ragged, forlorn eyes glinting with tears, he thrust the knife into the toaster.
His trembling hand jolted and the silver hissed down the side of the toaster, embedding into the pliable wood. The man’s bloodshot eyes bore into the silent machine that lay stoic and apathetic as he fulminated and seethed above it. Sweat leaked across his brow and crept under his collar. With calloused claws he wrenched the plug from the socket and hauled the malevolent clump of metal outside and over the weary fence. Anguished barks and a stream of angry words slinked through the air. The man warily trudged across his manicured lawn and peeked his head over the rail. The toaster sprawled comfortably in a dense flowerbed as his toast drifted soggily in the pool.