"Ah, I weel just relax by the fire for a leetle while before I go to bed," said Presse-puree to himself as he settled into a leather armchair in the library.

"Here, I brought you some hot cocoa," Chef David said as he walked in with a tray of Oreos.

"Thank you," said Presse-puree suspiciously, "Why are you limping?"

"I dropped a jar of truffles on my foot. Since you never use them, the jar was full."

"What ah say ees, when you have ze cocktail weinairs, why use ze truffles? Nobody notices."

Presse-puree took a sip of the cocoa and spit it out.

"What are you trying to do? Keel me?"

"I thought you liked cocoa with cinnamon and nutmeg. I got them from your own spice rack ... What's wrong?"

"Oh, oh, nothing."

Presse-puree bravely took another gulp, and washed it down with Oreo cookies.

"By the way, your spices were all out of order again. I re-alphabetized them for you."

Presse-puree said nothing. He reached for another cookie.

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