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.