Beryl examined her toast carefully and carefully

Beryl examined her toast carefully and carefully nibbled around the image of Princess Diana burnt into its crisp surface.

Then she framed it & hung it into her Toast Art gallery. After a year a splotch of mold grew & it looked more like Rembrandt's 'Old Man with Gold Chain'. A collector offered Beryl

a card when he came to view the collection, thrusting it at her before running away in blind panic. It read: "Aspergillus infection? Visit our private clinic, discretion assured!"

"Discretion? Why would I want that?" She tossed the business card into a sewer drain. "This is the age of social media! I want all my social diseases posted on Twitter, Facebook,

and LikeMyDisease.com!" She took a selfie with the soggy discarded business card in the background and was off, oblivious to the fact the business card was actually a

kettle chip. One of the cheddar flavored ones. She handed the chip to someone and said, "Just give me a call, the number is on the back." What she didn't realize was that the

phone number written on the back of the kettle chip was wrong. She'd miss-written it and in place of her own number was a number used by terrorists to trigger their bombs. When the

Number was put into my phone the police tracked me down and my life on the run had begun. I contacted her and said

it was time go if I valued my life. "Call me back when it's over," she said. I scowled and hung up. I was on my own. I had to grab a few belongings and then scram

bled outta there before all hell broke loose. I felt a tug on my shirttail. "Going somewhere?" a gravelly voice spoke. It was too late. I'd never see her again.