## What's cooking?

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Two chefs were standing on my front porch clutching brown paper bags filled with vegetables. Strange.

I pulled the door open. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“There’s no time to waste,” said the dark-haired one on the right. “We’ve gotta get cooking.” He forced his way past me.

I whirled around. “Hey, what do you—”

Behind my back, the tall bearded one stepped inside and closed the door using his foot.

I spun back. “Who are—”

“There’s no time,” he interrupted, readjusting to get a better grip of his bags. From the kitchen, I heard drawers open and close.

“Now wait just a second, who the hell are you people?” I asked, forcefully.

The bearded chef marched past me, checking his watch. “Oh man, we’ve *really* gotta get cooking!”

“Cooking?” I asked. “Cooking what?”

In the kitchen, the dark-haired chef was slicing onions on the counter.

I chuckled. Clearly, it was a case of mistaken address—one of my neighbors had probably hired caterers for a birthday party. 

“Excuse me,” I said.

Neither of them took any notice of me.

“You’ve got the wrong house,” I said, waving my arms around.

The dark-haired one heated the stove.

“HELLO?” I shouted. They didn’t react at all. Now it was becoming unsettling.

The bearded chef opened my fridge and began rummaging around.

“Hey, what the hell!” I shouted, crossing the room to wrestle a carton of eggs from him. “I already told you people—”

Without saying a word, he ripped the carton away from me using both hands, then he cracked two eggs into a bowl and started whisking.

"That does it," I grabbed my phone, planning to call the police. But then the bearded chef started rummaging through my carefully arranged spice rack. 

“HEY!”

As I made my way towards him, the dark-haired chef pursed his lips then selected a jar.

I stood right next to him. “Okay, that's enough. You people need to—”

He made a ‘one-minute' gesture, then he circled the counter and resumed chopping.

At my wit’s end, I grabbed a ladle and pot and bashed them together. It made a deafening metallic clang. The two chefs stopped what they were doing and finally turned their attention towards me. 

“Look, I think you’ve got the wrong house, okay? Can you please just—"

The dark-haired chef approached me and snatched the ladle. “There’s no time for this nonsense—we’ve gotta get cooking!”

He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a large knife.

I groaned. “COOKING WHAT?”

He smirked, advancing upon me. A chill ran along my spine. I traveled backward until I bumped into the bearded chef.

I gulped. With a weak voice, I said, “Cooking wh—"

Before I could finish, the bearded chef’s hand clamped down over my face, smothering my mouth.

The dark-haired chef took a step forward and held the knife against my throat. “Cooking *you*.”## TLDR Summary:

 “There’s no time for this nonsense—we’ve gotta get cooking!”

He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a large knife. With a weak voice, I said, “Cooking wh—"

Before I could finish, the bearded chef’s hand clamped down over my face, smothering my mouth. The bearded chef opened my fridge and began rummaging around. “Hey, what do you—”

Behind my back, the tall bearded one stepped inside and closed the door using his foot. But then the bearded chef started rummaging through my carefully arranged spice rack. “Oh man, we’ve *really* gotta get cooking!”

“Cooking?” I asked. “I already told you people—”

Without saying a word, he ripped the carton away from me using both hands, then he cracked two eggs into a bowl and started whisking.
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