Hello, friends, and welcome to bedtime stories with mister Jim. Oh. I was just getting ready for bed, are you as well? Oh good, I hope you brushed your teeth and found all of your comfy things like pillows and blankets and stuffies. Oh yes, oh good. Well, as long as you have all those things ready, then it's time for our story. But first we must close our eyes so that we can travel to an imaginary world. Riley was fast asleep until a loud noise woke her up. What was that,
Riley gasped as she sat up in bed. A loud grumble sounded through her room, again coming from her tummy. She giggled when she realized the sound was just her tummy rumbling. Oh I'm so hungry, Riley exclaimed, as her tummy continued to growl. She slipped her feet into her slippers and quietly padded down the hall. Her pet cat me out and ran away as she heard the growling of Riley's tummy heading closer. Sorry, whiskers, whispered Riley. She
tiptoed down the stairs and toward the kitchen door. The hallway was dark, and so was the living room as she passed by In fact, every room in the house was dark since it was midnight and the whole house was sleeping, every room except the kitchen. Riley walked through the kitchen doorway to bright lights and the loud clanging and banging of pots and other cookware. Someone was in the kitchen cooking. It was not Riley's parents or grandparents.
Hullo there, called out the mystery cook. Come on in, I am just whipping up a midnight's neck. Riley turned the corner, walking around the counters to see who was speaking. She saw a whisk being whipped in a bowl, a pot being stirred on the stove, and a plate being washed in the sink. Could it be that there was more than one person in the kitchen, an army of cooks in the room. But no, there was only one voice,
and there was only one cook. Riley finally made it to the other side of the counter and saw who spoke to her. The octopus in the chef hat smiled down at Riley, So what are you hungry for? The octopus continued to smile at Riley as its tentacles moved around the kitchen. For being pancakes, mixing cake batter, scrambling eggs and slicing toast. Riley didn't know what else to say, so she asked, how did you get in here? The octopus laughed, ugh, you called for me, Riley, Well, at
least your tummy did. Riley's tummy grumbled again, and the octopus pointed she now, what can I get you? Riley sat down at the table that was already covered in food. She picked up a pink macaroon and popped it into her mouth. The tar, juicy flavor of raspberries filled her mouth. The octopus was still waiting for an answer, so she replied, there is so much food here already, but I guess what I'm really craving is in French toast. The octopus
tentacles got to work immediately. One grabbed a bowl while the others cracked eggs, grated cinnamon, poured milk, sprinkled brown sugar, and whisked. The tentacles moved on to slicing bread with one tentacle, dipping it into the batter with another, and dropping it on to the hot griddle with yet another. Riley watched in awe as the French toast piled in front of her in an ever growing stack. When she couldn't see around it. To the octopus in the kitchen,
she shouted, okay, that should be enough. Thank you. Tentacles reached around the French toast in front of her and sliced it while pouring syrup and dropping some blueberries and strawberries on top. Riley picked up her fork and took a bite. The bread was sweet and custardy, the syrup warm, and the blueberries plump and juicy. This is delicious, she said.
The octopus smiled and told her make sure you saved some room, and plopped down a three tier chocolate cake on the table between the macaroons and a pot of golden mac and cheese. Riley feasted on everything the octopus man made her. It was the most delicious buffet of all her favorite foods, made just for her. When she was too full for anything else, her eyelids started to grow heavy, she rested her head down on the table
and mumbled a thank you, mister octopus. Riley woke up the next morning in her room as the sunlight streamed in and the birds cheered. She didn't remember going back to bed last night. The one thing she remembered was falling asleep at the table, Riley remembered the octopus chef and ran downstairs to the kitchen. No one was in there, and everything was clean and put away. There were no signs of piles of desserts or bowls of mac and cheese. Not a single piece of French toast from the monstrous
snacks were left on the table. It must have been a dream, Riley thought. Hmm. She shrugged and opened the fridge, but inside was a plate of French toast waiting for her. Well, my friends, as we get ready to go to bed, may we close our eyes and have very sweet dreams. Good night, my friends,