Angel has the case of...the Sniffles.
Dun Dun Daa
Max walked back to the germ infested room with a tray crowed with toast, a cup of coffee and gummy bears piled high daring to topple over to the floor.
She kicked the door open strode in taking one last breath of none-germy air.
'Your toast.' Mas said putting the tray on top of the sick saplings feet, not hiding the aggravation increasing ion her forehead.
Angel removed the pillow from her face, took a tissue from the tissue box and blew her nose. Sir Box of Booger Tissue the 84; Max named the tissue box. She had lost count of how many boxes Angel had went through after 18 and decided to count form 80. That was five minutes ago, and five minuted from that time frame four tissue boxes have been mobbed and raided of their flatten, soft, deflated tree trunk bark and now Sir Box was in need of a new heir to ive Angel's nose the attention it needed; Sir Box of the Booger Tissue 85.
‛What is that?' sniffle sniffle cough
‛It's what you wanted. Now eat it.' Max said.
‛Thats not what I wanted. I asked for cake. This isn't cake!'
‛Stack the toast on top of each other and put the gummy bear on top. See, here, watch.' and she did just that, taking the tray on her lap and rearranged everything. ‛See, a one of a kind cake.' Spreading her arms out seeming too proud of her handy work. Angel looked at her giving her the are-you0kidding-me-look.
‛Oh, I'm not touching that.' Max gave her a hard stare.