Okay, so SOS is interwoven. Noted. They seem quite proud of the fact, even though you have no idea what it means. Dad’s pretty happy about it all, even though he has no idea that the grill is now picking up transmissions from Sputnik and reflecting them into his head. Wife’s happy, too, although she appears to be some sort of chameleon bred to blend in with SOS boxes and squeeze-bottles of French’s mustard. Daughter is incredulous as well, but happy no one is looking at her deformed right hand, which is not only elongated but ends at the wrist.

Never in the world was a grill that clean if it had been used. Unless you doused it with SIZ and aimed a flame-thrower at it.