The Watterson kitchen was a symphony of barely-contained chaos that Tuesday morning. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating airborne crumbs and catching the frantic glint in Nicole Watterson’s eyes as she whirled between countertop disasters. One hand snatched charring toast spewing smoke like a tiny locomotive, while the other jabbed desperately at the overflowing sink faucet, now crowned by a teetering volcano of iridescent dish bubbles.
The jarring BRRRRING! BRRRRING! of the ancient wall phone sliced through the din like a fire alarm. Nicole stomped towards it, dodging a rogue meatball Gumball throw across the linoleum. Snatching the receiver, she pressed it to her ear, puffing a stray strand of frazzled orange hair from her face, her voice a breathless mix of forced cheer and simmering panic.
"WATTERSON RESIDENCE! ONE MOMENT! please stand by….”
Thunk! She slammed the phone down on the counter without waiting for a reply, lunging back towards the sink where the bubbly mountain now threatened an avalanche.
"PUT THE SPRINKLES BACK! GUMBALL! THE MEATBALL IS NOT A BALL!…well it is"
she bellowed, snatching a dirty saucepan lid as an impromptu shield against the encroaching suds. With a sigh that could wilt flowers, she scooped the receiver back up a second later, her voice suddenly, unnervingly bright. "...Hello? Yes, Nicole Watterson speaking?"
