Strathmore adjusted his goggles, trying to keep the smoke from the airship’s twin funnels from burning his eyes. Ever since being given the order to expedite the refitting of the galley, he had known something was going to go horribly wrong. Now he knew exactly what form that wrongness would take.
There on the dock, heavily wrapped in flapping canvas tarpaulins, loomed the new toaster. Those coverings utterly failed to conceal the appliance, whose firebox was more than eleven feet across. How he was going to connect its massive stoker to the ship’s coal bunkers completely baffled him.
Suddenly he heard the reason for the culinary upgrades. From behind came the velvet voice of the skipper’s new wife, Olivia, calling his name. He devoutly wished he’d gone deaf.
Feel The Steam, Punk! 