lauralyrics (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lauralyrics) wrote,@ 2008-01-13 00:34:00 |
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I decided to make hot chocolate, and by "make hot chocolate" I of course mean "tear the top off a packet, pour it into a mug of cold water and microwave it." It's a new type of hot chocolate, with marshmallows. I didn't bother to read the instructions on the box because--sheesh!--if you can't tear the top off a packet, well, you probably can't handle the microwave, either.
"How is it?" asked my mother.
"Very chocolate-y," I replied, "but I'm very disappointed. There is not one marshmallow!"
"You should call the company and complain," said she. A few moments later, she decides to pour one of the hot chocolate packets into her coffee.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"It's a little...thin," she replied, "but at least I have marshmallows."
There's a brief pause while we consider this. "The packets were stuck together," I said.
"Almost as if they were meant to go together," my mother said, and we both looked into our respective mugs.
"Maybe, um," I said. "Maybe I should have, you know, read the directions first."
"I can't believe," my mother said darkly, "that I just poured marshmallows into my coffee."
"Who knew?" I encompassed the vagaries of hot chocolate corporations and misleading advertising with one sheepish, sloshing sweep of my mug, carefully omitting any mention of my ability--now in question--to use a microwave. Oh, well.
"How is it?" asked my mother.
"Very chocolate-y," I replied, "but I'm very disappointed. There is not one marshmallow!"
"You should call the company and complain," said she. A few moments later, she decides to pour one of the hot chocolate packets into her coffee.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"It's a little...thin," she replied, "but at least I have marshmallows."
There's a brief pause while we consider this. "The packets were stuck together," I said.
"Almost as if they were meant to go together," my mother said, and we both looked into our respective mugs.
"Maybe, um," I said. "Maybe I should have, you know, read the directions first."
"I can't believe," my mother said darkly, "that I just poured marshmallows into my coffee."
"Who knew?" I encompassed the vagaries of hot chocolate corporations and misleading advertising with one sheepish, sloshing sweep of my mug, carefully omitting any mention of my ability--now in question--to use a microwave. Oh, well.
