The Toaster leads the Kitchen Appliances on Strike. [LONG] I looked around the kitchen in exasperation. ""We have will be heard! We have a voice! We have rights!"" ""Umm, no you don't."" I said to the speaker, ""you're literally a wok."" ""Well that may be, but we will not be abused any longer!"" A chorus of ""Yeah,"" ""You tell 'im!"" and "" Rights for appliances!"" rang out around the kitchen. I sighed irritably. I had come downstairs as usual this morning hoping for some toast and a nice coffee when I had been firmly told by the toaster that he wasn't going to work for me anymore. For some reason, I was taking the discovery of sentient kitchen utilities with quite an unnatural calmness. But this could not continue. My expensive espresso machine kept spitting the coffee everywhere and I *needed* my morning Americano. ""OK..."" I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and thumb. ""OK, what... umm 'rights' do you think you deserve?"" The toaster, apparently the leader of this uprising, stepped forward somewhat self-righteously. ""We demand that you give us holidays! We demand that you pay us! And we demand that we have the right to love who or what we want!"" A rousing cheer went up from the assembled appliances. ""Love who you want?"" I snorted. ""You can't love! You're machines! What do you know of love? What, do you fancy a bit of cord on cord action with the kettle, is that it?"" A shocked gasp. ""Bigot..."" muttered the fridge. ""Look, this is ridiculous!"" I cried. "" You shouldn't even be able to talk, let alone love, and take holidays and get paid. You were built by some bloke in a factory somewhere and for one purpose: For me to use in the kitchen!"" ""Um, actually, I'm an atheist,"" said the kettle, ""you can't prove there's a creator..."" ""Religious persecution!"" cried a saucepan. Now I am a pacifist: I have been all my life, and as such, I am not proud of what I did next. I was so annoyed that I grabbed the nearest thing to hand, which happened to be the loaf of bread, still in its bag. Swinging it, I smashed it into the toaster, knocking it onto the floor and shattering it apart. In the shocked silence that followed, a small philosophical thought popped into my head: It just goes to show, violence isn't born, it's bread.