Paddington and the Breakfast Chaos

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The next morning, after his first night in the big city, Paddington Bear awoke full of curiosity and with a slight rumbling in his stomach. He had slept on the sofa in the Browns' living room, which was so soft he'd almost forgotten where he was. Only the gentle rattle of the trams outside reminded him that he was no longer in Peru, but in the middle of London. Mrs. Brown had kindly explained to him the night before that she had to be out early in the morning, and Mr. Brown had advised him to simply help himself in the kitchen. That sounded very tempting to Paddington—except no one had ever explained to him what awaited him in an English kitchen. So he padded curiously through the hallway, straightened his hat a little, and carefully pushed open the kitchen door. "Oh!" Paddington exclaimed in amazement. There were entire cupboards full of supplies, shelves full of glasses, and the refrigerator hummed mysteriously, as if it had something important to say. On the table lay a basket of rolls, next to it a jar of orange marmalade, sparkling like amber in the morning sun. "This looks like a good start to the day," murmured Paddington contentedly. He reached for a roll, which was admittedly a bit unruly, and decided to cut it open. But the knife he pulled from the drawer was sharper than he had imagined – whoosh, it slipped, and the roll bounced to the floor, while the marmalade tipped suspiciously. Paddington bent down hastily to rescue the roll, knocking his hat against the jar. A sticky, golden gush poured across the table, dripped down the chair legs, and finally landed in a shiny puddle on the kitchen floor. "Oh, marmalade really does have a life of its own in England," Paddington observed, trying to limit the damage. He fetched a tea towel – but no sooner had he picked it up than his paw got caught in the handle of the teapot, and it clattered off the shelf. A torrent of steaming hot water poured across the tablecloth, making the bread float and turning Mr. Brown's newspaper into a small paper raft. Paddington was determined to save the day. So he put the bread back on the plate, pushed the teapot aside, and boldly grabbed the toaster. "A toast makes any breakfast worth it," he said hopefully. He put two slices in, but unfortunately, he forgot to turn the control down. After a few moments, it began to smoke, and a pungent smell spread. Paddington stared in horror at the black plumes of smoke billowing from the toaster. In his desperation, he grabbed the jug of water on the windowsill and boldly poured the water in. There was a hiss, steam, and spark until the toaster finally gave up.