Brand New Digs, Same Old Toxic Waste
Once upon a time, there was someone who had a PC connected to the Internet without a firewall to intervene. Software being what it is, this PC was soon a web server. Soon after, the Nuclear Toast moved in. Later, a new speed bump appeared on the information superhighway.

This speed bump grew and prospered. Like road kill, it began to attract... something. Life Was Good™.

One day, as the sun was shining and the birds were singing, the evil Overlord saw the little backwater occupied by the server. For nefarious reasons known only to his dark heart, the Overlord cast the firewall of death about the server. Cut off, the home of radioactive toast withered.

The Nuclear Toast knew his time was short. All those infobahn flies needed some rotting HTML, or they'd buzz off to another site. Faster than a steroid-pumped Olympic sprinter on Ex-Lax, the Glowing One cast about for a new stretch of cyberpavement for his speed bump.

Then, like a ray of sunlight through a storm-darkened sky, a savior appeared on the horizon. [Cue angelic music.] The electronic community known as GeoCities opened its virtual arms and offered sanctuary. The new Toast Host. And the price was right.

The Toast looked around, found a neighborhood with appropriately low property values, and staked a claim. Passing the rigorous entrance requirements and a kidney stone, he surveyed his new homestead. The dawn of a new era glowed on the horizon. Or was it just a fire down the street? Either way, the Toast relished this new fixer-upper. He worked with renewed energy.

At 23:18 Pacific Standard Time on February 28, 1997, control rods backed slowly out of the core, the Toast Reactor restored power, and rejoined the grid.

The flies returned.