The butter’s alarm goes off. “Barooga!” it yells, rattling the door of the fridge. “Barooga!”
“Stop that, butter,” shouts Lin, who’s about to beat Guts Man.
“There is a quantum entity shifting toward bakeable in the kitchen at this moment,” it replies. “I demand that you use me to create cake!”
“I still think your whole existence is unethical,” groans Maggie, “and I really don’t want to make a cake right now. Lin, seriously, did you have to get the psychic stuff?”
“You said psychic.”
“I said salted.”
“The entity is coalescing!” bleats the butter urgently.
“OH SHIT,” say the eggs.