Schiff was on TV. Kit got excited. Too excited. So excited... that she couldn't hide it. And she lost control. And kind of liked it. And then we had sex. And Schiff watched from the TV.
When I went to pour my cereal, I noticed that my lower half was irritated. I scratched it and continued to pour the cereal, wondering if I should put on my pants. No, there wasn't time for that. I was hungry.
So I stared at the cereal, gazing into the milkless pile of wheat and sugar. I couldn't decide if I should use two percent or whole milk. That was when my hand picked up a conveniently placed peace dollar error coin that was on the table. I would decide with fate.
Just as I was about to flip, the dog in my house began to whine.
When did I get a dog anyway?
I opened the fridge door and found that I only had one choice of milk. So I opened the cap. My hands twisted the plastic with such finesse that it came off easily. I placed the round and scored cap on the surface of the wood table, my skin rubbing against the carved oak for a moment. I then tilted the milk jug, one single peeping droplet beginning to stream down until--
'WAIT!' a very familiar and sensual voice cried out.
It was too late. The cereal was now floating amidst the pearly white fluid from which a cow had producted from it's teets.
'That milk,' the voice said, melancholic this time, '... it's bad.'"
Slow motion: the milk carton, falling effortlessly through the air. Tumbling on to the cool tiled linoleum...
Milk, spattering all over my feet and the floor... arching out, oozing out into a puddle of brightness.
My jaw hung for a moment and a single tear ran down my face.
My breakfast... was ruined.
'Why!?' the beautiful mistress screamed. She stormed into the kitchen area, this time, her face covered in a mask of anger and pity. 'You must clean this up!'"
I turned away to hide my pain. I could not do it. To do that would admit that I had ruined my own breakfast. Instead, I ignored her orders.
'Excuse me!' she yelled. I felt a sting against my cheek and traced her hand with my eyes as it pulled back from my face.
I had done it this time.
My own fingers rubbed against the hand-shaped red mark that was now forming across my skin.
I kneeled down, the spilt dairy product getting closer and closer to me.
I looked up to see that I had left a towel laying on the table at some point. It was then that I whisked it from it's resting spot and gently laid it upon the wet mess.
'I'm sorry,' I said, my voice emotionless and distraught.
Would I ever eat breakfast?