SWNOVELXO Chapter 147: An episode of the Golden Spatula
Both girls jumped like the cupboard had just growled "Boo!" and pulled out a knife. Max nearly threw the entire bowl of melted chocolate at the ceiling, while Caroline dropped the tongs with a clang.
"Did that cupboard just TALK?" Caroline gasped, already backing toward the hallway like it owed her rent money.
Max held her spatula like it was a blessed crucifix. "Oh my god, Caroline. It's a ghost. It's him. The stalker! He DIED and now he's come back to HAUNT US. I told you! Yellow teeth means unfinished business!"
From the cupboard came a lecherous voice, muffled but far too enthusiastic.
"Mmm. Smells like sugar and chocolate in here. Are you ladies cooking for Daddy, or is it just foreplay?"
Max shrieked and flung a handful of flour at the cupboard door. "Unclean! BEGONE, FOUL SPIRIT!"
Caroline hissed like a cat and waved the steak knife. "Max! Call Alex! Get the priest! Where's the salt?! I think I have sage in my purse!"
"I KNEW that pineapple had bad energy," Max wailed. "It was a curse! A cursed tropical demon fruit!"
The cupboard giggled.
Yes. It giggle-snorted.
"I'd love to help stir your batter, sugarcakes," the voice said. "Just let me peek at your buns..."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT," Caroline said, jabbing the air like she was fencing. "You are not peeking at ANYONE'S buns unless you're a licensed baker!"
"I vote we set the kitchen on fire," Max whispered. "We collect insurance and move to another city under new names."
Caroline crept closer to the cupboard. Her hand hovered over the handle.
"I'm gonna open it," she said.
Max grabbed her arm. "Don't! That's how girls die in horror movies, Caroline. First, the dumb blonde opens the door and then WHAM! possessed by a pervert ghost, or just kuakkkk!" She made a hand sign around her neck.
"I just wanna see," Caroline said.
"No! What if it's like The Ring? What if it crawls out and drags you inside? Just imagine, living in a cupboard with a pervy ghost as a ghost."
The cupboard spoke again.
"Go on, sweetheart. Open me up. Let Daddy show you how to preheat your..."
"Okay! NOPE!" Caroline spun on her heel and backed away, flapping her arms. "Not opening that. Nope. Never. Ever. That cupboard is canceled."
Max grabbed the pot lid and held it like a shield. "We live like this now. We just tape it shut and cook everything in the bedroom."
Then the front door clicked open.
Alex walked in, grocery bag in one arm, his phone in the other.
"Hey, ladies," he said casually, stepping into the room. "I brought ice cream and.... Why are you two armed like you're in Home Alone?"
Max pointed the spatula at the cupboard with a trembling hand.
"It's haunted."
Caroline nodded. "It made several inappropriate baking-related remarks."
Alex blinked. "What?"
The cupboard let out another sultry chuckle.
"Oh, baby. Is that Daddy's voice I hear? Mmm. Come closer. Let me whisk you real good."
Alex paused. Then sighed. Then facepalmed so hard it echoed.
"Goddammit. That's the magic spatula."
Max and Caroline stared at him like he'd just confessed to dating a broom.
"I'm sorry," Max said. "Did you just say magic spatula? Because that sounds like something a preschooler made up while drunk on frosting."
Alex walked over, opened the cupboard without fear, and reached in.
He pulled out a glowing golden spatula. It shimmered like it had opinions.
"There you are," He muttered. "I told you to shut that filthy trap of yours."
The spatula whined. "Oh, come on, boss. I was just having some fun. That blonde was cooking without the proper amount of salt, and that boobelicious red lips used 0.4ml of extra vanilla extract in the dessert."
'This motherfucker!' Alex thought as he wondered if he should snap it or just bury it somewhere.
Caroline backed into the counter. "You got a cursed kink spatula?!"
"Is that a battery-operated toy? But how the hell is it speaking? Wait! You are pranking us with one of those high-tech props, right?" Max said very quickly with a grin, unsure of what expression to make in this situation.
Alex let out a long, soul-weary sigh as he put the bag on the kitchen island. The kind that said, 'I didn't sign up for this, but now I'm stuck babysitting sentient kitchenware with a porn addiction.'
"I was gonna prank you with it later," he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. "Maybe wrap it up in a velvet box and gift it to you for Christmas. Put a tag that says, 'For when your oven isn't hot enough.' But noooo, of course it breaks out early. Of course it talks."
Max pointed at the thing like it had declared war. "That's not a spatula. That's a perverted horcrux."
Alex gave Max that glance.
"Ok. Don't get mad, I couldn't help but read your unpublished book collection. But that's not the point," Max quickly pointed at the spatula. "That perv... Kill it."
Caroline nodded, eyes still wide. "It catcalled us from a cupboard, Alex. A cupboard. I've seen horror movies. This is how demonic infestations start."
Alex held up the golden spatula by the handle. It shimmered with a faint, supernatural glow. The kitchen lights dimmed for no reason other than drama. The spatula gave a low, appreciative hum.
"Ohhh yeah," it said. "Grip me like that, Daddy."
"Do you see?" Caroline cried, waving a dish towel like a white flag. "It's possessed! We need an exorcist! Or a flamethrower!"
Max stared at it in stunned horror. "You've been hiding a talking utensil that hits on people. Why?"
Alex looked her dead in the eye. "Because it makes the best food you've ever tasted. Use it to flip an egg, and you get something that makes Michelin chefs cry. Stir soup with it, and it makes grown men write poetry. Fry chicken with it, and you'll have the best fried chicken in the world."
Caroline blinked. "And the price is emotional damage?"
"It's like cooking with Gordon Ramsay's libido," Max said, slowly lowering her spatula-shield. "That voice is gonna live in my nightmares."
"Sweetheart," the spatula said to her, "you put me in brownie batter and I'll show you the true meaning of dessert."
Alex bonked it on the counter like a misbehaving remote.
"Quiet mode. Now."
The spatula made a rude sputtering sound and went still.
"Where the hell did you find that cursed thing?" Caroline asked.
"Tokyo. When I was filming Lost in Translation. A little side shop off the alley behind a ramen place. Old man said it was cursed by a lustful cooking spirit who died mid-simmer."
"That tracks," Max said. "This feels very Tokyo. Also slightly French."
Caroline crossed her arms. "So you just brought it home? Like a normal souvenir? Not thinking, 'Hey, maybe my kitchen shouldn't have a horny utensil with opinions?'"
"I didn't know it talked at first," Alex defended. "The glow gave it away. I used it once. The pancakes were so good I cried. Then it whispered something about syrup and whipped cream and... I threw it in the cupboard. I meant to throw it in the river but forgot."
"You forgot about the sexually aggressive magical spatula?" Max deadpanned.
"I've been busy."
Max walked over, cautiously poking it with the end of a wooden spoon.
"Does it bite?" she asked.
"No," Alex said. "But don't stir anything while wearing a skirt. Trust me."
Caroline took a few steps back. "That's it. I'm not touching it. Magic or curse, it doesn't matter."
Max peered at it, curiosity winning over fear. "You sure it doesn't bite or anything like that? I mean, dang! To think that magic is real. Wait! You sure it's magic? Like, sure sure? Don't get me wrong, but it kinda sounds unbelievable right now."
"Yeah, who would believe in ghosts and magic, right?" Caroline said with an awkward grin.
"And a moment ago, you two were screaming ghost," Alex said with a little chuckle. "Well, don't think too much and give it a try. Think of it as a battery-operated spatula."
"So... if I made cookies with it, they'd taste amazing?" Max asked.
"Like heaven," Alex said. "Assuming heaven also whispers filthy things about your dough."
The spatula, still glowing faintly, quivered in anticipation.
Max narrowed her eyes. "Alright, pervy spatula. One chance. You get one bake session. If you disrespect me, I swear I'll bury you in sea salt and curse your mother."
The spatula purred.
"Show me your batter, baby."
Alex sighed again. "That's your problem now."
Max reached for the mixing bowl. "I'm about to bake the cookies of the gods."
Caroline raised a hand. "And I'm gonna go update my will."
Alex poured himself a glass of water and stared at the cupboard where the spatula had been hiding.
"I need new hobbies," he said to no one in particular.
From the bowl, the spatula whispered, "You need me, Daddy."
"Well, I'll go get changed and put the ice cream in the fridge before it melts."
Alex made a tactical retreat to his room, muttering something about needing a change of clothes and a life with less enchanted cutlery. He closed the door behind him with the slow, solemn dignity of a man walking away from his own war crimes.
Back in the kitchen, Max and Caroline stared at the glowing spatula still resting in the mixing bowl. It wiggled slightly, as if flexing.
Caroline took the bag and began to fill up the fridge with ice cream cups and tubs. "I'm still not convinced it's not battery-powered. I've seen weirder in women's nightstands."
Max leaned over the counter and peered at it like it might try to jump. "To think this weird little shit gave me a jumpscare. It's so embarrassing."
The spatula wiggled again.
Caroline took one step back. "It's wiggling. Spatulas do not wiggle. I'm sorry, but that's not normal. Just throw it out the window."
Max shook her head slowly. "Alright. No. I refuse to be bullied by horny kitchenware. This is my kitchen now."
"You mean Alex's kitchen," Caroline corrected.
"Semantics," Max waved her off and rolled up her sleeves. "I've baked in worse. Remember the time we made cupcakes in a toaster oven during a blackout while rats fought in the corner for a Cheeto?"
"That was my worst birthday," Caroline muttered.
Max gripped the spatula.
It shivered with glee.
She scowled. "You make one more dirty comment, and I swear I'll use you to scrape gum off the sidewalk."
The spatula was silent. For now.
Caroline hovered near the fridge like it was a bunker. "I still say this is like the start of a bad fairytale. Girl meets magical spatula. Spatula talks dirty. Girl ends up cursed and becomes a sourdough loaf."
"Oh, please," Max said. "Worst case? It burns the cookies and moans weird things. I've heard worse things in the back room of a music concert."
Max scooped dough with the spatula.
It glowed brighter.
The smell hit almost immediately.
Warm vanilla. Brown butter. Chocolate so rich it probably had a trust fund. Max blinked. "Okay. Not gonna lie. This smells like Alex's hugs and this sensation... Yep! Raw orgasms."
Caroline crept closer, sniffed, and her pupils dilated. "Okay. I hate it. But also... I want to eat six of those and cry into a pillow while wearing a soft sweater."
"I haven't even baked them yet," Max whispered.
They stared down at the raw dough like it had summoned childhood memories and healed trauma. The spatula purred.
Caroline narrowed her eyes. "It's definitely magic. And horny. Hornily magic."
Max prepared everything and placed the tray in the oven, wiped her hands, and turned back toward the counter. "We're gonna eat one. Just one. If it makes us levitate or speak fluent Italian, we'll reconsider."
From inside the oven, the scent grew stronger. The air shimmered. Somewhere in the distance, a violin softly played.
Max leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "I'm calling it. This spatula is cursed, enchanted, and possibly French."
Caroline nodded. "So just like most pastry chefs."
At that moment, Alex returned, now dressed in black joggers and shirtless. He carried a towel over his shoulder and a faint smell of his expensive body wash. "Smells good." He stepped behind Max and wrapped his arms around her waist like this was a cooking segment on a very adult version of Food Network.
He leaned in and kissed her neck first.
"Mumm~" Max let out a small gasp that she immediately tried to cover with a fake cough. Too late. Her knees were already plotting treason. 'Shit! Pick me up and fuck me on the table. I've been a bad girl.'
Alex turned her gently and kissed her full on the lips. Max kissed him back as her fingers traced his biceps. Their tongues danced against each other for a moment into a sloppy kiss, before they stopped.
"Wow," Max whispered. "Either that cookie smell's got aphrodisiac powers, or you really missed me."
"I live with you," Alex said, brushing her hair back. "But yeah. I missed you." [They started living together after that stalker incident.]
He turned to Caroline, who stood near the fridge, blinking like someone caught in an unexpected soap opera scene.
"Come here," Alex said, voice low but warm.
She blinked twice. "Oh. Are we... doing this now?"
"Yes," Max said, already pushing her forward. "Hug him, woman. Share the shirtless magic."
Caroline laughed awkwardly as she walked up, and Alex pulled her into a kiss too. Softer this time, a warm press of lips and a hand resting lightly on her back. Caroline's arms instinctively came up, resting on his shoulders. For a moment, it was just her and him, and the warm comfort of safety wrapped in affection.
When the kiss ended, she blinked up at him, clearly flustered. "Phew! Ok. If we kiss anymore, I might just jump on you."
"Not now, blonde," Max didn't miss a beat. She slid in, pushed Caroline gently aside, and immediately pressed both hands against Alex's torso.
"One... two... three, four..." she counted aloud, her finger tapping each ab. "...five, six, seven, eight. Yep. All here. Fully accounted for."
"Max," Alex said with a grin. "Are you doing an ab roll call?"
"Yes. I have to make sure they're all present before dinner. For legal reasons."
Caroline raised her hand. "Can we also acknowledge that he's the only man alive who can make sweatpants look like a tactical weapon of seduction?"
"You should've seen him shirtless with a knife," Max said, gesturing wildly. "He looked like a sexy cooking-themed assassin."
The oven dinged like it wanted in on the flirting.
Max turned and squealed. "Cookies. Let's see if the pervy spatula delivered."
Caroline stepped in like a judge on Top Chef: Magical Bakes Edition.
Max pulled the tray out with a flourish. The cookies were golden perfection. Slightly crisp at the edges. Soft in the middle. Steam curled up like a love letter to carbs.
They each grabbed one and bit in.
Caroline's eyes fluttered. "Oh. Oh my god. I'm ascending."
Max's knees buckled slightly. "Alex. Marry me, right now. I'm pretty sure this cookie just unlocked my sixth sense."
Alex took a bite and raised an eyebrow. "This tastes like happiness."
The spatula, from the bowl, whispered smugly, "Told you. Daddy delivers."
Max pointed at it with the half-eaten cookie. "You're still on thin ice, buddy."
"To think magic is real," Caroline sighed.
"Just keep it a secret," Alex said as he looked toward Max. "Especially you, Max. Don't babble out about it anywhere."
"I promise, I won't. Now, time for dinner, moneybags."
...
[POWERSTONES AND REVIEWS PLS]
Support link: www.patr eon.com/UnknownMaster
[6 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers] [No double billing.]
---