Ellen asked me to taste the salad dressing and a spoonful of the mashed yams, and I said “no way” both times. Then she chased me around the apartment with a piece of zucchini on a fork, yelling, “The vegetables are attacking,” until I locked myself in the washroom.
Knowing that I wouldn’t be eating much during dinner, I fortified myself on some Frosted Flakes and then walked over to Mac’s Milk and bought two boxes of Smarties. When I came home, Simon told me that the oven had just made a strange popping sound and that when he opened the door to look inside, it sounded like the elements were crackling, and then the bottom one went out and wouldn’t restart.
“We have a problem.” Ellen said.
Simon put his hand half-inside the oven and said, “It’s still really hot. All we have to do is leave
