“He looked in the fridge at lunch and spied a Kit Kat bar belonging to someone else in the office. He considered stealing it before he stopped himself.
“I’m not that hungry,” he thought.
“Don’t just leave it,” whispered the beard, voice now past adolescence. Jude reached for it again, threw it to the ground, and stepped on it for no reason other than to peeve the owner. He put it back into the fridge with a sinister grin on his face.”
Twelve eager eggs; Seven scintillated stock cubes; four favourable milk drums; other such objects; On a Saturday morning they all waited expectantly in the basket to see the land beyond, the new world.
It forked out a lot of knives to be a knife this fork, not to mention all of the spooning in between. But as you may have drawn from my addressing of it as a fork, it still didn’t quite feel like a knife.
“Step into my fortress,” says the microwave, the evil auctioneer, conductor of particle transportation. And many did.
The brush watched a lot of daytime television. Too much some might say. It worked during the day, you see.