Fish and the chocolate milk of August Eleventh
Fish was sitting at his computer when his stomach began to rumble. He tried to think of what night time snack he could eat. He looked over to his scanner, on which stood a box of generic poptarts. He decided he would devour them. The generic brand seemed to make his mouth dry, so he went downstairs to get some chocolate milk. The dishwasher was open, so he put all the clean dishes away, and got out a cup and spoon. He pulled the milk out, and looked for the Hershey's syrup. He couldn't find it. Panicked, he checked the recycling bin and trash, to see if it had been finished off. It was nowhere to be found. He went back upstairs and asked his mother if they had any chocolate syrup. "Oh, we do, it's in the basement, because we made homemade ice cream." She said, rubbing her stomach, as if she could still taste it. It's not like Fish wanted any or anything. Fish sighed.
"Alright." He said, going back downstairs. He just pulled out a coke and headed back up.
"Did you get it?" His mother asked.
"Uhh... No? It's in the basement, where grandma sleeps, and she has to work tomorrow. I don't want to risk waking her up just for some chocolate milk."
"She's asleep?" His mother barked.
"Well, I would imagine, since she works tomorrow, and it's like, eleven." Fish said in a soft tone.
"She goes in at three, for like, an hour." His mother argued, rolling her eyes.
"Whatever." Fish said, storming into his room. Why did his mother have to argue with him about everything?
I JUST WANTED SOME ******** CHOCOLATE MILK
scream
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