“Mom, do we still have that thing in the fridge?” I make a virtual scan of the revolting rot that could be lurking in our refrigerator.
“The one that makes that stuff you drink?” she prompts.
“Oh, you mean Scott? Why, yes!” After all her expressions of disgust, I’m pleased that she is showing an interest.
“Can I take a picture of it? My friend doesn’t believe we have something that gross in our refrigerator.”
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