Disclaimer: No, really, I don't own these people.

Prompt: Temper

Genre: Humor/Drama

Pairings: Mentions Jim/Trixie

Rating: K

Summary: Mart is upset when he thinks that there aren't any cinnamon rolls left.

Cinnamon Roll Rage

"Morning, sleepyhead," Trixie greeted her brother cheerfully as he plodded into the kitchen, yawning.

Mart glanced at her with a hint of irritation in his eyes. "Why are you so perky? You're normally just as grumpy as I am in the mornings."

Trixie smiled sweetly at him. "First of all, it's Friday. Secondly, I'm staying over at Honey's tonight. Thirdly, I heard that we're going to get Mr. Freeman in math today as a sub. And, lastly, my favorite brother and my boyfriend are coming home this weekend. There's simply no reason for me to be grumpy." She paused, and then added ruefully, "Plus, I went to bed early last night."

Mart only half-listened to her. He wondered briefly why she was spending the night at Honey's, but then he decided it must have something to do with Jim coming. Then he realized who she said was going to be her substitute teacher. "You get Freeman today?"

"Yep," she answered smugly. "Which means no math for us since he's usually pretty clueless about the day's lesson. Yay!"

"Lucky," Mart muttered, walking over to the oven. He saw that Trixie had a cinnamon roll in front of her, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on his own.

He was shocked when he opened the oven and saw that it was empty. "What?!"

Trixie had been watching him, and now her eyes danced with amusement. "What's what?"

"There's nothing in there!" Mart sputtered.

Trixie felt her lips twitch. "Uh-huh."

"But—you—why don't I get a cinnamon roll?!" Mart exclaimed indignantly.

"Who said that we get cinnamon rolls?"

Mart scowled at her. "Don't play dumb, Trixie. I can see that you're finishing one right now."

"Oh. Right," Trixie replied, glancing down at her plate.

Mart waited for a few seconds, and then he prodded, "Well?"

"Well . . ." Trixie repeated in confusion. Then she remembered his question. "Oh. I don't know. I just grabbed one that was in the pan."

Mart attempted to clutch his short blond hair in his hands. "Why, oh why, is this happening to me?"

Trixie snickered. "Mart, my dear almost-twin, it's just a cinnamon roll. You can always eat something else."

Mart rounded on her, and she could see that his blue eyes were flashing angrily. "Trixie, maybe you don't understand, but I can't just 'eat something else.' I came in here and saw that you had a cinnamon roll, so naturally, I assumed that I would get one. That means that all that I've been thinking about for the past two minutes is how good a cinnamon roll is going to be. I can't just decide to eat something else when I got my heart set on a cinnamon roll. That would mean betraying both my heart and all cinnamon rolls everywhere." He scoffed. "Not to mention that the idea of eating something else is ridiculous."

She stared at him in bemusement. "Okay, fine, whatever. Don't eat something else. Go hungry for the morning."

"Gah! Now why would you say something like that?" Mart cried. "The mere thought of going without sustenance for the morning is ludicrous!"

Trixie groaned and rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless. Fine, do whatever you want. Why should I care?"

"You're no help at all," Mart grumbled.

"I never meant to be," Trixie retorted as she got up and placed her dishes in the sink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go finish getting ready for school."

"What am I going to do?" Mart moaned to himself after his sister had left the room. "I'll be doomed if I do eat something else, and I'll be doomed if I don't eat something else."

"Good morning, Mart," his mother greeted him as she strode into the kitchen. "Why are you just standing there?"

"Oh, Moms," Mart said in anguish. "There are no more cinnamon rolls left!"

She gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean? Surely Trixie couldn't have eaten all of them."

"Well, apparently she has, because there are no more in the oven," Mart responded.

"Yes, there are no more in the oven." Mrs. Belden paused. "But there are some in the microwave."

It took Mart a moment to process what she said, and then all he could do was gape at her. "What?"

"I moved them to the microwave," Mrs. Belden answered, determined not to show her amusement. "There should still be plenty left."

Mart stared at her for a few more moments, and then he made a mad dash toward the microwave. Sure enough, inside there were several more cinnamon rolls. "Oh, what a relief." He reached in and grabbed one of them, sticking part of it in his mouth without bothering to get out a plate.

"Mart, use a plate and fork," his mother admonished him. "You aren't an animal."

Mart moaned with pleasure as he swallowed. "You don't understand, Moms. There were a few heart-stopping moments where I thought the worst. I needed to taste them to be sure they were real."

Mrs. Belden just lifted a brow. "Whatever you say, dear."