My spoon

This is just a draft...I don't want to be failed.


I grab the almost empty rice chex from the top shelf of the pantry.
The unopened box of Cinnamon life is relaying memories of happy times we have had with each other.
No, I can't have you, I'm going gluten free now.
I slide over to the bowls and grab the deep red one.
Just the right size so when you put your spoon in, it can't touch the bottom with all the cereal.
I rattle the refrigerator open and pull out the lactose free milk.
The milk that smells like spoiled eggs.
Oh, thats right, your stomach doesn't work, Briana. You can't have lactose or gluten.
Imagine the dispossibilities.
I pour the funny smelling cereal into my bowl.
But its almost empty
The top of the bowl is replaced by sparkly crumbs that taste like pulp
I hate taking the last bowl of cereal.
So I just put the empty box in the pantry again, waiting for the next victim to be filled with happiness, then have their hungry throats slit.
I pour the milk.
It still smells like poo
Then add a nice mountain of sugar on top
Enough so at the end, when I drag my spoon through the bottom, it picks up a mound of sugar
Finally, I open the silverware drawer
The everyday spoons call at me to pick them to help enjoy my meal
But the real prize is in the back
The back is where all the leftover, non matching, misfit silverware goes.
That's where my spoon lives.
It's rounded of squared spoony part molds perfectly into my mouth
Just flat enough so I barely have to open my mouth
It doesn't polk its nose in my mouth, like the others.
Its soft, and gentle, and can pick up twice as many rice chex.
Its an expert picker upper of sugar, and can pick up the sweet little particles that grip the sides of the bowl, in one giant sweep.
Spoon, you make me kind of even like rice chex



Tomorrow I'm going to write about the pinewood derby. hehehehe