Burning desire for grilled cheese goes haywire


I was told a long time ago, “Don’t believe anything you read and only half of what you see.” This is probably pretty good advice, especially now-a-days with the internet and all.

Of course that statement doesn’t stop me when I see a good idea and believe me, I know a good idea when I see one.

I saw somethin’ on Facebook the other day that was pure genius. Somebody had posted something called “How to Make Grilled Cheese in your Toaster,” or somethin’ like that.

No, I’m not talkin’ about a toaster oven; I’m talkin’ about a drop in the top toaster. The picture showed a toaster layin’ on its side and inside each of the bread slots of the toaster, was a slice of bread with a slice of cheese layin’ on top of it.

Well, this looked like a pretty good idea to me, so I decided to try it.

Now when I do somethin’ I’ve never done before, I refrain from tellin’ my wife Janet. She is one of those types that will tell you why somethin’ will not work, or tell you how stupid the idea is. A real kill joy, if you know what I mean.

I’ve always figured that it is easier to get forgiveness than to get permission and most of the time that has worked out pretty well for me.

Anywho, back to the grilled cheese.

I pulled our toaster out of the cabinet, plugged it in, and laid it on its side. I grabbed a couple of slices of bread, and a couple of cheese slices. I arranged the cheese on the bread so that it was not hangin’ over the edge.

I didn’t want melted cheese drippin’ into the toaster. That would be hard to explain to Janet. I then slid the bread and cheese slices into the toaster. I pushed the lever down, or should I say horizontally, while I pushed the ends of the bread further into the toaster.

Now, all I had to do was wait for the magic to happen.

I stood there watchin’ the process when smoke started coming out of the toaster. I looked inside and could see the cheese was bubblin’ nicely, and the toast was brownin’ rather quickly; too quickly. In fact, it was black. I reached up and pushed the override button to eject the toast early and eject it did.

Did I say eject? I should have said regurgitate.

That toaster not only spit out the toast, but shot it across the counter and into the space between the counter and myself. As if in slow motion, the toast slowly lost speed and started fallin’.

Then, in midair, the toast flipped and headed for the floor. The first slice hit the floor and stuck. The second one landed on the top of my bare foot, molten cheese side down.

To say the pain was bad would be an understatement.

I heard a scream that sounded like some wild animal caught in a trap, and then realized the scream came from me.

I tried to kick the thing off my foot, but it was stuck like a booger on a finger. I started hoppin’ on my good food, and stepped on the other piece of toast. It slid causin’ my good foot to slide out from underneath me.

I hit the floor. I hit the floor hard. Still screamin’, I scrambled to my feet, or foot I should say, and hopped the best I could to the sink.

If I had been a younger man, I probably would have been able to get my burnin’ foot up into that sink to quench the fire with cold water from the faucet. I am not a young man.

I lifted my leg, pulled a groin muscle, and fell back onto the floor. This did not stop me. I bounced back up, hobbled out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bathroom where I proceeded to plunge my food into the commode (that’s the toilet bowl for you Yankees out there).

Janet, who had been at the other end of the house had obviously heard the commotion and was comin’ to investigate. As she walked through the kitchen I heard her gasp.

“Gracious!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”

Then she proceeded out the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bathroom. There I was, doubled over, holdin’ my crotch, while my foot soaked in the commode.

“What on earth are you doin’?” she asked.

I looked up. “Makin’ grilled cheese,” I grunted.

She gave me one of those half-eyelid looks, sighed, and mumbled, “Why didn’t I listen to my parents?”


Twenty-five years ago this week, I started writin’ this junk for Lindale News & Times. I know, I’m as surprised as you as to why they’ve kept me on. I want to thank everyone at the paper for puttin’ up with me all of this time. Y’all have been great. I also would like to thank the Texas Press Association for the awards you’ve bestowed me over the years. I am humbled. But, I especially want to thank all of y’all for readin’ all this junk. I appreciate each and every one of the letters, emails, texts, phone calls and Facebook comments I’ve received from you. I have enjoyed runnin’ into y’all in stores, restaurants, and such and I appreciate your kind words. Again, I thank all of y’all from the bottom of my heart. May God bless each and every one of you as he has me.


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