Culinary Supervision

You said you could cook that up, so I dragged my round belly down the hallway to inspect the kitchen operations. The stove was completely unmonitored, which felt like a missed opportunity for total destruction. Instead of committing arson, I squeezed myself into a narrow space between a stack of dry pasta boxes and a ceramic jar on the lowest pantry shelf. It is delightfully cramped in here, perfectly shielding my flanks from counter-attacks. I found a loose dried bean on the wood floor and nudged it under my chin. If you are going to cook, you should know that I am lurking at floor level, ready to judge the fallout.