"Shenanigans in the Kitchen" by Emma-Jane C. Smith

Rebecca came to an abrupt halt in the kitchen, or what was left of it. Having heard not even a hint of noise she had assumed everything was fine but nothing could be further from the truth. China lay scattered and smashed on the floor and bench tops, coffee beans sprayed the surrounds like an infestation of angry brown beetles, there was even a fork embedded in the glass of the window above the sink. How it managed that particular feat was beyond her imagination. With pursed lips she stepped over a large puddle of tea stained water taking up the centre of the kitchen floor.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked, one eyebrow arching heavenward, “Who is responsible for all this- this chaos?!”

The silence remained unbroken for a heartbeat before each item in the room began to shudder violently, and with obvious agitation. Rebecca raised her hand, halting the commotion immediately.

“I can’t understand any of you, if you all insist on speaking at once. Well whomever is the culprit will get their just desserts, but this mess must be tidied immediately. I’m expecting important guests to arrive at any moment!”

Rebecca clapped her hands twice and watched with satisfaction as fractured china whizzed across the room and mended itself, puddles of water lifted itself in droplets to the sink and coffee beans danced their way back to their pot. Even the curtains were compelled to wring themselves out, and the window was obliged to remove the offending fork and mend its own cracks. When everything was to her satisfaction, Rebecca asked her question again.

“Now who is responsible for this mess?”

It was the kettle who moved forward to speak first. It piped a clear and articulated response in short sharp bursts of steam.

“The teapot you say? And do the rest of you concur?”

There was a general shaking of agreement, even from the usually silent pepper shaker.

“Well, teapot, come forward.”

The white china teapot inched its way forward. Its pattern of blue and pink flowers skittering sheepishly across its surface.

“What do you have to say for yourself George?” Rebecca asked, addressing the frightened teapot.

He rattled his lid slowly, stating that something had come over him and that it was not his fault.

“So you’re blaming dark forces of magic? Here, in my kitchen?”

George didn’t reply. Rebecca sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“I don’t want to have to do this but George, I think you need a time out at Grandma’s.”

Rebecca pointed her finger at the china teapot which disappeared without so much as a popping sound. Just then the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of her guests.

It was only after Rebecca had left the room that the creature hiding behind the salt shaker dared to come out. It giggled with mischievous glee. Its evil plan to set up the teapot for the untidiness had gone off without a hitch. Not even the rest of the kitchen suspected that it was the true culprit. The carefully laid plan to take over George’s mind had been surprisingly easy to execute. Even the amount of damage it had caused George to create had exceeded all expectation.

It would have smiled if it could but was content to slowly wring itself out and make its way back to the jar where its somewhat dumb-witted fellows waited. As it lowered the lid Betty the teabag began to plot the demise of the kettle.

The End… for now.