This had been the kitchen of tomorrow, only yesterday. The Plutoluxe decor, guaranteed to last 24,000 years, had oxidized from white to grayish yellow with olive spotting and had recently become unstable, cooking food left out on the counter and causing guests who sat in the chairs to appear in X-ray, a bit awkward. The Cryomagic magnet fridge was ten years old and had gone out of phase, giving foods a tart, cancery taste. And the fusion cooker had developed a wormhole, exchanging entrees across galaxies; a green bean casserole might go in, but out would pop a Giant Berenician Dungdaddy, which is not good hot.

From Go, Mutants, p. 8

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