A house’s wife was beating a bowl. The bowl was for mixing only, not all this violence. It began to spatter its batter at her. ‘Easy does it,” the bowl suggested to the woman, who just smiled and beat its batter even harder. The batter bubbled and foamed from the bottom of the bowl over the rim. The Santa on the wife’s apron became alarmed. It already had coffee stains on it and did not appreciate more wet on its dry. Then the Frigidaire began to growl. The wife just said “OK” and laughed at it. She continued to beat the bowl. A hairline crack appeared and the wooden handle broke away from its spoon. The canisters shook off the shelf, assuming the worst. When the entire house began to tremble and the floor slid out from under her, the woman’s family knew they’d have to order takeout.