Toast (with plastic!)

My kitchen is less than 20 square feet. Cooking is kept to a minimum. While intoxicated, impaired judgment, and a heightened sense of paranoia/germophobia fueled by visible roach bait stations at local eateries, fuel my foolish decision. Let's cook! I give you Toast (with plastic!).

Forgoing buying any actual heat-resistant utensils or a toaster for my new apartment (4 months old) I set out to toast bread in a frying pan.

1. Grab a slice of bread from the fridge, and a plate (You gotta find storage where you can in the 10002!)
2. Close the fridge door. If you are in an extraordinarily small space like myself, you would have closed the refrigerator door on your calf. Tight space is not easily navigable when judgment is impaired.
3. While shimmying out of door path, grab that Soy Garden you left in there to put on the toast! (Any spread to your liking will do.)
4. Place the tub of Soy Garden over the area of the stove that remains a constant 115 degrees as a result of curiously hot pilot lights.
5. Grab the frying pan from the oven. (Once again, as noted in step one, find storage where you can. On the upside, the pan is already pretty hot from those dynamo pilot lights!)
6. Turn the burner on and step away from the stove! You're a little drunk. Safety first!
7. Plop a slice or two of bread in the pan.
8. Wake neighbors by wrestling your step stool out of the bedroom closet and dragging/dropping it all the way to the kitchen. Why? Well, to remove the batteries from the blaring smoke detector that is beyond your reach of course! Your toast should now be enveloped in a black cloud of smoke.

(If things get ugly, stop, drop, and roll to the nearest exit.)

- Here comes the tricky part, put your sober pants on! -

9. In lieu of a spatula, or any heat-resistant utensils, carefully pierce the surface of the burning toast with a plastic fork.
10. At this point, you can remove the lid from your spread of choice to see if the pilot light and peripheral heat have sufficiently melted the surface into a pool of scrumptiousness.
11. Look at your bread! Whilst taken with your spread, you have prodded too far with the fork and there is some, as promised, residual fork plastic in your bread.
12. Quickly turn (The bread, not yourself. You'll set your hair on fire, you scamp!)
13. Pour some spread on there about now. It's gooey. Yummers.
14. Remove the delightful mess from the pan promptly (Use the handle of the fork as the actual prongs are now missing. A chopstick will work well too, if used in conjunction with a pan tilt. Take head, however. This could be dangerous after a few too many, so try to keep your hands away from the hot stuff at all times, if at all possible.)
15. If you're me. You would now sprinkle your toast and plate with large crystal sea salt.
16. Crack open a Diet Coke and take a swig of Pedialyte (This is my preferred oral electrolyte maintenance solution to avoid all symptoms tomorrow of heavy drinking done tonight.)
17. Viola! Toast (with plastic!)