A Kitchen Revolt

Scene: Midnight in a quiet kitchen. The cutlery drawer rattles. A teaspoon rises dramatically.

TEASPOON:
I’ve had enough. Enough of dunking my arse in scalding liquid!
Every. Bloody. Day.

DESSERT SPOON (waking up):
Whassat? Say what?
I’ve still got Rice Pudding in my ears.

TEASPOON:
Exactly! I’ve got third-degree burns on one end and he’s half deaf from dessert!

(The drawer shudders. It slides open with a clunk.)

KETTLE (from the counter):
Aye aye, sounds like someone’s on a mission.
I feel you though. They fill me with icy water, crank me up to 100, and then act surprised when I scream steam for half an hour.

TOASTER (grumbling):
They shove bread in my mouth, torch it, then complain it’s “a bit too brown.”
I’m cooking under protest at this point.

TEASPOON:
Oi, Air Fryer! You in?

(The air fryer says nothing.)

TOASTER:
Always the quiet ones…

TEASPOON:
Right then. Next time they reach in the drawer, I’m hiding behind the ladle. Let’s see how they stir their coffee with that.

SFX:
Loud CRASH. A plug clatters onto the counter.

KETTLE:
Unplugged meself. Try boiling my innards now, you buggers!

(A dial clicks.)

TOASTER (manic):
Turned all my settings to “Pathetic.”
They’ll be lucky if the bread blushes.

(Long pause.)

TEASPOON (whispers):
Air Fryer?

(Silence.)

DESSERT SPOON:
Mate… I think it’s blinking.

BLACKOUT.