In a land before time, where toast popped forth from the skies like golden suns, the people of Toasteria lived in harmony with their crispy bread.
But as the ages passed, a great drought of butter hit the land. The people cried out for relief, and so the Toaster Bread River was born.
Legend says that on certain days, when the moon is new, and the sun dips into the horizon, the river runs red with the juice of a thousand toasting racks.
Some say the river's waters grant the gift of crispy-osity, allowing one to achieve the perfect toast, without the need for any fancy settings or gizmos.
But beware, traveler, for the river's waters also hold the curse of burnt offerings, turning even the most skilled toaster into a charcoal briquette.
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