Deanna Biloski

It was a peculiar day in Elowen Eldridge’s mystical household, and the air was filled with the sound of laughter and the scent of brewing potions. In the midst of the enchanting chaos, Old Marg, the ghostly housekeeper from a bygone era, found herself face to face with a modern contraption—the dreaded electric kettle.

“Back in my day, we just boiled water over the fire,” Old Marg muttered to herself, eyeing the sleek, shiny kettle as if it were a mischievous spirit waiting to pounce. “None of this newfangled wizardry.”

Elowen, noticing Old Marg’s distress, floated over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Marg, dear, it’s just a kettle. No need for the theatrics.”

But Old Marg was not convinced. She went through the stages of kettle grief. First, there was denial. “I won’t use it. I refuse. It’s a contraption from the netherworld, mark my words.”

Then came anger. “Why can’t we stick to the old ways? What’s wrong with a good, reliable cauldron?”

Bargaining followed. “Perhaps we could summon a water-heating spirit instead, like a fire salamander. That would be more to my liking.”

Depression set in. “Oh, the world’s gone mad, and so have I.”

Finally, acceptance arrived, but it was a reluctant one. “Fine, fine. But I’ll need help. This kettle and I aren’t going to get along without some magical assistance.”

Elowen gathered the peculiar household residents—Whiskerwinxs, Tomte, and even Alice Mosley, the young and enthusiastic girl with her bottle-thick glasses. Together, they formed a kettle intervention committee, determined to help Old Marg overcome her fear.

Whiskerwinxs, the grumpy Siamese cat, hissed at the kettle for good measure, Tomte offered his gnome engineering skills, and Alice chirped in with her youthful wisdom about the wonders of modern technology.

The committee gathered around the kitchen, Old Marg eyeing the kettle like it was a coiled serpent ready to strike. Whiskerwinxs, showing a rare moment of affection, rubbed against her legs, a feline gesture of support.

Tomte, with his trusty wrench, inspected the kettle. “It’s harmless, Old Marg. Just a bit of electricity and water magic.”

Alice, holding her cellphone with cupcake expressions, demonstrated how simple it was to use. “See, it’s like summoning a cup of tea with the touch of a button!”

With hesitant nods and mutters of ancient curses under her breath, Old Marg finally approached the kettle. She waved her ghostly hands and muttered incantations from a bygone era, adding a touch of her own magic to the electric ceremony.

To everyone’s surprise, the kettle rumbled to life, water bubbling and steam rising. Old Marg, with a mix of pride and relief, poured the hot water into a teapot.

“Well, I never thought I’d see the day,” she said, sipping her tea with a satisfied smile. “Perhaps there’s something to this modern wizardry after all.”

The peculiar household erupted in cheers and applause, and even Whiskerwinxs gave the kettle a disdainful but approving glare.

Old Marg once fearful of the kettle now was pleased by the new addition to her kitchen. Now if only Elowen could convince her that the vacuum wasn’t going to suck her up, things in the house would be able to move closer to the 21st century.