Each movement she made was a slow and deliberate one. Her head swiveling to catch each twinge of her hands as they unfolded the butter from its wrapper. Much like a newly released butterfly from its cocoon, the block of butter was revealed. Her eyes stared at its uncovering as if enchanted by a spell.
Hungry, stomach growling, the smell of toasted bread filled the air. It was only a matter of moments before the glorious "kichunk" of the toaster would release its captive slices.
Carefully, her fingertips lifted the toast from its cage to be placed on the flimsy cardboard plate. She then drew the butter knife from its allotted slot in the silverware drawer preparing to use it with great abandon.
Ever anticipating the burst of joy that would envelope her taste buds the moment buttered toast filled her waiting mouth, she sliced through the butter block to grab enough yellowy goodness to layer a thick spread of heaven all over the toast.
Alas! The pat of butter, so assuredly meant to be spread on hot toast, would not move. Getting stuck on that first dollop, the bread began to rip apart rendering the fair maiden to tears.
"Damn you to hell evil butter!", she cried.
