I got out a glass, left the cupboard door ajar, and poured some milk. Mom jumped up, closed the cupboard and sat down. I got a plate, left the door open again, got a knife, didn't shut the door. Mom’s eyes bugged out. How long could she last?
One, two, three . . . She death-gripped her coffee. My toast popped; I brought my plate to the table, leaving the bread out.
Four, five . . . Mom's eyes twitched.
Six, seven . . . I left crumbs in the butter. Gurgling came from her throat.
Eight . . . Oops! Butter dolloped onto the table.
Nine . . .Inspired by
Who will help me.
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