Nipper stepped into the kitchen and looked around the room. A small table lined with spices in neat rows sat in the center, and along the back wall was an L-shaped counter with shelves above it filled with cans and boxes. A wood-paneled refrigerator hummed beside a shiny chrome oven. Colorful fruit hung in wire baskets.

Smelling the hot dogs and the pie at the front door had already made Nipper hungry. He was doing his best to stick to the script, but the delicious aroma of boss-level grilling and national-award-winning baking was a major distraction.

He took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.

He was there to get the ring.

To get the ring, he had to find the ring.

To find the ring, he had to find the back porch without finding a parrot.

To find…

…himself alone in a kitchen now, surrounded by food, was distracting!

“Time…out,” he said, sounding a little like a sports announcer.

He was in a kitchen, all by himself. Snacks were everywhere. There was nothing to stop him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t consider eating.

“Pickled crabmeat with oysters,” said Nipper, reading words on a shiny copper can close to him on the counter.

Okay. Pickled crabmeat and oysters were some things he wouldn’t consider eating. Probably. At the very least, they wouldn’t be his first choice. He kept looking.

A thick paper bag with a clear plastic window rested on the counter. It was the kind of bag that usually had fresh-baked cookies inside. He read the label.

“Sea urchins?” said Nipper in surprise.

He shook his head and moved on to a row of big glass jars. One looked like it was full of powdered chocolate. The other looked like brown sugar.

“Hot chili…cumin,” said Nipper, reading the labels on the jars.

He shook his head.

“Nope. Not today,” he said to the jars, as if they could hear him.

Nipper crossed to the other side of the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. Something flopped out onto the floor. It looked like the end of a fire hose. Nipper bent down to get a closer look. It was a long, gray, rubbery tube. One side was lined with rows of suction cups.

“A tentacle?” Nipper asked.

He rose to his feet and peered into the refrigerator. It was stuffed with a huge gray shape. Two basketball-sized spheres wobbled at eye level. They seemed to stare at Nipper like two big mysterious eyeballs.

They were eyeballs! A whole boiled giant squid filled the refrigerator!

“Ugh,” said Nipper, shaking his head.

There was no way—no way—he would ever consider eating that! He was pretty sure.

He closed the refrigerator, irritated. Where were the tasty snacks? Where was the food that not-double-triple super-evil kids liked to eat?

A flickering light caught Nipper’s attention. On the other side of the refrigerator, an old lightbulb dangled from the ceiling in a small walk-in pantry. The tiny room was lined with shelves, but they were empty…except for one shelf at Nipper’s eye level. In the center of the wooden shelf stood a single box, about the size of a cereal box. It showed photos of graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate chips. Purple dots sparkled on the surfaces of the crackers. Letters made out of candy canes spelled out the words:

PEPPERMINT S’MORES COOKIES

Lower down on the box, words appeared in a yellow burst:

…with Pop Rocks!

“That’s more like it,” said Nipper.

He smiled and picked up the box and shook it.

It was empty.

“That figures,” Nipper said.

Then, snap!

Somewhere inside the thick wooden shelf, there was a sound like a sprung mousetrap. Before he could say “Holy cow-a-bunga! What’s happening?” the whole pantry, with Nipper inside it, dropped like a bag of rock salt.