I awoke early with a scratching pain in my throat. It was drier then the desert. I ran to the bathroom to splash some water in my face, when I remembered the water bill was way too high, and I couldn't use the water until I had paid it off.

I quickly ran to the kitchen to see if we had some juice or some cold water in the fridge, but what to my wondering eyes should I see? My worst enemy, the edible liquid drained from a cow and forced down my throat since I was but a boy. Milk. It was the only thing in the ENTIRE house that was in liquid form which was cold.

I thought I could tough it up and last the whole without a drink, until I swallowed my saliva, and it hurt like hell. My arms were crossed as I glared down at the huge jug of milk in the fridge, which gleamed up at me and told me to drink it for relief. I struggled for while, and unfortunately, I gave in.

I grabbed the jug of milk and began to chug it, trying not to taste it. Just my luck, my younger brother Alphonse just happened to wake up just at that moment.

He walked into the kitchen, but stood in the doorway, watching me chug down the milk. I noticed him there, then stopped. We glared at each other. He crossed his arms, and smirked.

"Al, it's not what it looks like!"