The final slice

I’d been looking forward to it all evening, that last slice of apple pie, left over from Sunday lunch. And there was double cream in the fridge. It was a big fat slice with crumbly bits and apple oozing out. I would treat myself. That and a hot chocolate. We BW’s now how to live. I heard the munch thunder downstairs. I had a nasty feeling, a sixth sense that there might be competition for that last slice. I waited and debated whether to check. I hesitated then strolled casually into the kitchen. The Munch wasn’t there. I felt relieved. Then I heard the ping from the microwave. The utility door opened and there was the Munch with my slice of apple pie.

“What are you doing?” I asked as politely as I could.
“Having this apple pie, what does it look like?”
“I was going to have that actually” I said as reasonably as I could.
“Well I’m having it” He brushed past me and grabs a plate from the kitchen loaded with cookies.
I put the kettle on. At least I could have a hot chocolate.
“You can make me one as well” this shouted from the top of the stairs. The door to his room slams. I swear. Lilly who had been hanging around in the hope that a little something might fall on the floor slunk off and hid under the table. She has been around when I have sworn before.
I slam the mugs down on the work surface and spoon liberal amounts of hot chocolate into the mugs. To the munch’s I add sugar. A lot of it. Its not much of a revenge but its a start. He doesn’t like his chocolate to sweet. I take the thick sickly brown drink up to his room. “Thanks” he grunts and takes a sip. “Nice one, thanks dad, its really good.”
There must be a cat to kick somewhere.
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