‘Where’s the milk?’
‘In the fridge where it always is, except when you forget to put it back.’
‘There’s no cereal in this box.’
‘There’s another box in the cupboard.’
‘This is Rice Krispies …’
‘I don’t like Rice Krispies, I wanted Coco Pops.’
‘I couldn’t get Coco Pops, Spar only had Rice Krispies.’
‘Why didn’t you go to Tesco?’
‘I didn’t have time. Just imagine they’re Coco Pops.’
‘How the hell do I do that?’
‘Travis, for fucks sake, you’re thirty two, a fucking grown up! Try to act like one.’
‘I’m just saying … I don’t like Rice Krispies.’
‘Well, you’ll just have to lump it. What a sad specimen of an Australian you are! What about all that bush tucker? Witchetty grubs and all that? and you’re moaning about a plate of Rice fucking Krispies?’
‘Is it too much for a man to ask that he should have a proper breakfast before getting off to work in the morning?’
‘GET OUT YOU BASTARD!’ The cereal bowl went flying through the air in the direction of Travis’s head but twelve years of marriage to Jane had taught him, if nothing else, how to avoid airborne crockery. It was made of plastic anyway. Grabbing his uniform jacket, Travis was out of the door and into his red ford focus as quick as lightning, off down the road in the direction of Kildoran in a cacophony of crashing gears.
‘What time is it?’ Brenda asked Helen who was standing at the window.
‘0730.’ she replied without as much as a sideways glance at a clock.
‘Jane has just thrown Travis out.’
Prompts: breakfast, argument
by Jane Jones