20 June 2008

“Beautiful spoon,” said the Spork. “Don’t run…”

“I won’t…” the spoon murmured back.

How it happened, the spoon did not know. The spoon found itself pinned helplessly against the coolness of the blue ceramic bowl. Its silvery end being probed by the spork’s own. It let out a whimper.

The spork hushed the younger utensil. “Don’t be afraid,” it whispered soothingly. “I won’t hurt you.”


Yes, there is kitchen utensil slashfic. Rule 34 strikes again.