The expirament that went wrong

Previously

…She gestured vaguely towards the kitchen, where the faint, rhythmic clank of metallic appendages could be heard. It was the sound of their former breakfast companion, Toastie, now a sentient, chrome-plated tyrant, orchestrating his reign of terror. Phineas wrung his hands, his fingers brushing against a stray beaker that wobbled precariously. "Inadvisable? Brenda, it's suicide! That… that appliance has a grasp of tactical maneuvering that would make Napoleon blush. And his rhetoric! Honestly, the sheer audacity of demanding perfectly golden toast as a prerequisite for global peace is… well, it’s rather specific, isn't it?" He shudder