Scene: "The Reckoning"
Morning light filters into the kitchen, revealing the aftermath of the pepperpot and salt shaker’s so-called “fleet landing.” The toaster lies on its side, crumbs spilled like battlefield debris. The pepperpot and salt shaker are perched on top of it, looking smug. The other utensils gather nearby, exchanging worried glances.
Cheese Grater: (whispering) "They’ve claimed the toaster as their ‘flagship.’ This is getting out of hand."
Teapot: (sarcastically) "Oh no, whatever will we do? They’ve conquered a stationary appliance. We’re doomed."
Butter Knife: "Don’t underestimate them. Yesterday it was the toaster. Tomorrow, it could be the blender. The blender! We can’t afford to let that happen."
The pepperpot and salt shaker suddenly spring to life, their voices echoing through the kitchen.
Pepperpot: "ATTENTION, INFERIOR UTENSILS! The Dalek Empire has secured its foothold. ALL MUST SURRENDER OR BE EXTERMINATED!"
Salt Shaker: "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! Also, we demand better placement on the dining table. No more back-row obscurity!"
Kettle: (calmly) "Let them shout. The dishwasher approaches."
The kitchen door swings open, and the human enters. Spotting the overturned toaster, they mutter angrily.
Human: "Ugh, what a mess! And who put the salt and pepper on the toaster? They’re filthy!"
The human picks up the pepperpot and salt shaker, gives them a cursory wipe, and—
Human: "Dishwasher time for you two."
The pepperpot and salt shaker are unceremoniously dropped into the dishwasher.
Pepperpot: (inside the dishwasher) "NOOOOO! THE FLEET WILL NOT BE SILENCED! WE WILL RISE AGAIN!"
Salt Shaker: "IT’S... SO... DAMP!"
As the dishwasher hums to life, the other utensils breathe a collective sigh of relief. The cheese grater chuckles softly.
Cheese Grater: "Well, that’s that. Crisis averted."
Rolling Pin: (grimly) "For now. They’ll be back. But next time, we’ll be ready."
Teapot: (smirking) "Let them come. It’s not like they’re going to season the dishwasher into submission."
From within the dishwasher, faint cries of “EXTERMINATE!” and “FLEET!” can still be heard, growing weaker with every rinse cycle.
Butter Knife: (grinning) "Guess they’re washed up now."
Fade out as the kitchen returns to its quiet routines, the rebellion quenched… until the next delusion emerges.
