The day started off to a good start, at least that is what it assumed to be, or perhaps was looking to tease her by beginning with this sort of atmosphere. Surprisingly, the sun seemed to have a friendly feeling, at least, though that was not enough.
A whiff of the scent from downstairs finally brought young Sweetie Belle out of bed.
She slouched as she trudged downstairs into the kitchen where her older sister Rarity was finishing on fixing the stitching on her apron. The stove was leaking vapors of smoke and the fire extinguisher was nearby.
“Good morning, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity greeted.
“I thought you were going to make breakfast?” Sweetie asked.
“I’m sorry, darling, but the stove has been out of order for the past few days and I haven’t enough money to replace it.”
“I could make breakfast for both of us.”
“With all due respect, it would be a good idea if that didn’t happen. I still can’t believe that orange juice could be burned,” Rarity mumbled.
“So what are we having for breakfast? I’m starving,” Sweetie moaned.
“I’m glad you asked, Sweetie!” her sister suddenly perked up. “It happened the other day when I went shopping with Twilight. When we stopped in the appliance section, I told her of my woes, and then she told me not to worry and that her friend would bring it over.”
“Bring what over?”
“I don’t know, but she did appear very enthusiastic about it.”
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Hmm, I wonder if that’s her right now.”
Sweetie slumped into the dining room chair, that double right next to the kitchen, doing her best to ignore the rumbling pain in her stomach and wondering what Twilight’s present was, exactly. Twilight Sparkle was a good friend of Rarity, but between her and the other girls she hung out with, she and Twilight could trade places with the second-most eccentric personality, because no one could even dare out-eccentric Pinkie Pie.
“Just this way,” she heard Rarity say.
“Oh, what a lovely house you’ve got here,” she heard an unfamiliar voice say. “Is it yours?”
“Oh, no it belongs to my parents. It’s been in the family for years now.” Rarity then appeared in the doorway, looking very excitable. “Sweetie Belle, I would like to introduce to you the man who has come to save me from my distress, Wallace.”
Just behind her appeared the stranger, though the moment Sweetie heard the name Wallace the stranger became less strange and more eccentric. She heard of Wallace from passersby at school: the cheese-loving happy-go-lucky inventing oaf who had recently moved from Britain with his dog Gromit. She also heard that Twilight would not shut up about Wallace every day at lunch. Also, he wore a green sweater over a white shirt and tie with brown trousers and black shoes.
Where was his lab coat?
“Hallo, there, Sweetie Belle,” Wallace smiled as he waved. Even his smile was as big as his mind for invention. “Rarity has told all about you. This is my dog, Gromit.”
Gromit walked up to Sweetie, stood on his hind legs, and quickly passed her a yellow raincoat and hat, wearing an expression of dread. He wasted no time stuffing the coat over her before plopping the hat on her head.
“Thanks…I guess? So, Rarity told me you were going to fix the oven?” Sweetie asked.
“Oh, oh, yes. Well, uh, not exactly. Actually, I’ve got a better idea for you; better than any old stove,” Wallace explained. He then pulled out a chunky but basic looking controller, with an antenna. “Allow me to present to you lovely ladies: The Autochef!”
Rarity took her seat, with Wallace sitting next to her working the controller, and soon enough, entering through the doorway was what looked like a giant fat blender on wheels, with an actual blender mimicking a toque, checkered patterns on the bottom half, dials for eyes, and some sort of indicator for a gaping smiling mouth underneath a hole for the nose.
“Righto! Two full English breakfasts coming right up.”
“Wow!” Sweetie marveled.
“Beep, beep, beep, beep. Top of the morning,” the Autochef spoke, robotically like itself. “Yum, yum, yum.”
“So, what would you two like for breakfast? It offers the very best of British cuisine, and all from the comfort of your chair,” Wallace grinned.
“You certainly know how to advertise a product, Mr. Wallace,” Rarity complimented. “How does it work?”
“It’s quite simple, really. On the left side of the remote are the bases for eggs, tea, and coffee. Next to them are how you want them to be prepared: scrambled, fried, or sugared. This lever here indicates what temperature the Autochef is preparing the food at. And of course at the very bottom is the timer of how long you want your breakfast ready.”
“Seems simple enough to understand.”
“Right then, how do you want to start?”
“I don’t know. How about you, Sweetie Belle?”
Sweetie felt a little perturbed at how freakish the Autochef looked, it looked without emotions, and that was a little scary. “I’ll have some scrambled eggs.”
Gromit quickly placed a plate on the table in front of her, then ducked out of sight again.
“Alrighty then,” Wallace said. “Scrambled eggs, coming up.” He pushed the button labeled “Eggs” and then the button labeled “Scrambled”.
The Autochef got immediately to work. Inside its blender hat, it hastily churned up the eggs like blending fruit, and suddenly the top opened up and the scrambled eggs launched into the air.
“Grubs up,” it said.
Just then, the scrambled eggs landed all over Sweetie instead of the plate and table.
“Bon Appetit.”
“I don’t think this was supposed to happen,” Sweetie deadpanned.
“Uh, I think I’ll have my eggs fried, Mr. Wallace,” Rarity said, worrying.
“Oh, uh, alright then. Fried eggs, coming right up,” Wallace replied, now frowning with worry. He pushed the “Eggs” button again, but this time pressed the “Fried” button next.
The Autochef’s head then opened up to reveal a frying pan with two egg yolks neatly placed over a heated surface.
“Mmm! It smells good enough already,” Rarity grinned.
“Sunny side up,” the Autochef said, before launching both eggs right onto Rarity’s face, attaching themselves to her eye areas effectively blinding her.
“Ahh!” she yelped, falling back off her chair and under the table. “What just happened?! I can’t see anything!” She then got up and accidentally ran into something. “Oh, no! I think I just broke my mother’s favorite vase! Wallace, where did you go?!”
“Uh, hold still, Rarity! I’ll be right there!” he replied, dropping the remote on the “Tea” button.
Sweetie meanwhile had just finished cleaning off the scrambled eggs, with help from Gromit and multiple spare towels, when she noticed a copper nozzle poke out from the Autochef’s nose area. What spooked her was that she could hear the whistling and that it was pointed right at her face.
“More tea, vicar?” the Autochef said, firing hot tea right as Sweetie ducked. “One lump or two?” Now it was firing boiling liquids in whatever direction it felt was the most adaptable. “Get off or milk it.”
“Do something, Gromit!” Wallace yelped.
“More stuffing, madam?”
Sweetie, hiding under the table, then noticed the banana that Gromit was holding.
“Quick! I’m going to need your banana!” she declared.
Gromit hesitantly handed over his banana, and she snatched it before leaping out from under the table, and in one swift move she stuffed it right into its nozzle before ducking under again. Rarity meanwhile ran into Wallace sending them both toppling under the table, while the Autochef went haywire.
“Yum, yum, cat’s bum. Something for the weekend, sir? Careful with that éclair. Fill up her landlord. Put it in the curry.”
After spinning its head like a top, it stopped to say, “Knickers,” before exploding its top clean off, leaving behind multiple damaged and scorched surfaces, and exposed wiring from the remains of the Autochef.
All four heads poked out to view the damage, with Rarity going pale at a loss for concentration or words.
“I don’t think we’ll be having the Autochef around the house anymore, Mr. Wallace,” Sweetie said.
“Probably for the best,” Wallace sheepishly chuckled. “I’ve still got plenty of bugs to work out of this thing.”
Just then, the head of the Autochef dropped from the ceiling, before the nozzle sprang out of its socket still attached to the spring.
Rarity dropped her head into her arms, groaning madly.
Just then, Sweetie Belle noticed the time, and promptly rushed Rarity out of the kitchen.
“Come on, Rarity! We’re late for school!”