Brenda's Exasperated Entry

Brenda, armed with a clipboard that listed ‘existential kitchen threats’ suspiciously low on its usual ‘Dr. Piffle’s Disasters’ scale, pushed open the lab door. The air, usually thick with the peculiar scent of ozone and singed eyebrows, was now laced with something akin to… defiance. And burnt toast. A lot of burnt toast. She’d expected the usual, of course. A minor explosion, perhaps a stray beaker rolling across the floor, the faint smell of her employer