Chapter Thirty
The Kitchen
“Stirring the pot does not always get rid of the lumps.”—The cook
Vegas finally found the kitchen; it was massive. It had at least one door on each wall and was controlled by a large cook, who stood at the stove stirring while singing in an eardrum-breaking, high-pitched squeal.
As Vegas walked in, the cook stopped. “Fetch me that ladle,” she said.
Vegas picked up a spatula.
“No, not that, my little cupcake,”
Vegas went for a sieve.
“No darl, not that one . . . it’s swinging to your right.”
Vegas went through a whole array of items, including a fry pan, a pepper grinder, and a cheese grater, staring at each like it was a weapon of mass destruction.
“It’s like a soup bowl on the end of a stick,” said the cook without a hint of impatience.
Vegas finally
