Lefty was frozen, holding onto the mop handle which helped him guide his janitor's cart. He had to be hearing things.
"Hello? Who said that?" Lefty wanted to be wrong, but the toaster responded.
"The kettle did. She's right, y'know. We all shut down these days. Something about energy efficiency. It's a shame. We used to have such a turnt-ass time once you all left for the day. Sometimes we'd rage until 6 in the morning and the first employee in the next day would have a heart attack at all the mess," the toaster started clicking the toast-release up and down to signal laughter.
Lefty's heart wasn't made for this kind of panic. He breathed and placed his hand on his chest, but the beating just kept quickening. Cortisol coursed through him.
"Well, jeez. Don't be too upset." The toaster tried to calm him. "We make it work. We're older now - we couldn't party like that any more even if we wanted to. You have to make adjustments as your circuitry degrades."
Lefty shook his head and looked away from the toaster towards anything else. The toaster gave up.
"Well, alright, then. Have a nice night! ...asshole..." The redness in the heating element began to fade.
Lefty really needed to sleep. He shook his ass awake and set to work so he could go home to his Wanda and rest with her. He dipped his mop into the bucket and squeezed out the excess water on the squishy plastic circle that did that. He plopped the mop dreads on the linoleum galley floor and began the rhythmic sway that evenly wets the floor.
He settled into the groove of it and was halfway done mopping the room. But then the fridge said something.
"There's still some hummus and cheese in me. You better take it if you want - it'll go bad over the weekend."
Behind the fridge, the low-tumbling sound slowed and eventually stopped. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling bagan to snap off one by one around Lefty in a rolling checkerboard pattern.
It happened so fast. There was only one left stopping Lefty from being totally in the dark. The cleaning wasn't done, but his hands shook and he had lost the rhythm. He put the mop back in the cart, scurried over to the fridge, creeped it open, and grabbed the half-eaten hummus and plastic-wrapped cheese.
Then, he got the fuck out of there.