Now Ron could hear the deep rumble of the Imperial Zeppelin's mighty engines, and it was getting louder and louder. "We've got about five minutes!" said Benny, starting to clatter about in the Soup Shack's kitchen. Ron got involved in the panic, first putting the spoon in his jacket pocket and his comb in the cutlery tray, and then running around between the tables like a fool.
The sound of the zeppelin was very loud by now, and the pots and pans in the kitchen were all vibrating or swinging on their hooks. Then the tables started shaking and one of the chairs actually fell to bits. Some spoons left out on the tables stood up and did a frantic jig, and a can-opener performed a whirling, high-kicking Cossack-dance. Salt and pepper pots tumbled like skittles and threw out their contents in curvy white and beige arabesques. Cans of food in the cupboards spun like tops and the letters on the menu board were jumbled-up to spell out terrible obscenities. The floorboards screamed as their edges strained against each other and the walls and ceiling wobbled like sheets of cardboard jelly. The room then started to become dark and Ron and Benny went to the window and looked out. The Imperial Zeppelin was now hovering just five or six metres above the ledge outside the Soup Shack. It was very, very, very big.