Dressed in a pair of jogging shorts and a ratty t-shirt, Jon made his way down to the kitchen and made his own breakfast. Which, in Jon's case, consisted of pouring about a half a box of Rice Krispies into a big bowl and drenching it with a quart of milk.
Jon was both groggy from oversleep and famished. Which may explain why he sat the rock down to get the milk and then kind of forgot about it.
As he munched his way through the Snap-Krackle-Pop of The Most Important Meal of The Day, his mom came in. She shook her head as she surveyed the damage. How one boy, making himself one bowl of cereal, could turn a kitchen into a war zone was beyond her understanding, but Jon always seemed to. "Jon," she said in loving exasperation, "Please try and pick up after you finish eating, all right?"
"Mrflfm," Jon replied through his Krispies.
His mom rolled her eyes and began picking up a few stray items - the empty milk jug, a dirty spoon, a strange looking rock, and yesterday's newspaper. "Sometimes," she said, "I wish the house would just clean itself!"
Jon's eyes went wide as he realized what had just happened. "Mom!" he exclaimed, spitting out a mouthfull of cereal. "Don't..."
The rock in his mom's hand glowed and flashed, and she and Jon were compelled to look away. When they looked back, it was a scene out of a 1950's cartoon. There were servomotors and tiny robots and automated scrubbers all over the place, cleaning and mopping and tidying up. In seconds, the entire kitchen was as spotless and clean as a model home's.
"What?!?" she exclaimed. "How - what - what is going on?!?"
Jon could only gulp.
