People ask me how I come up with these zany stories for my blog. Well…
#1 I don’t come up with them, they happen.
#2 I remember enough detail in all of my adventures to write full stories. That’s why a book is in the making.
#3 Something silly just happened moments ago, funny enough for me to write, yes, another Davis Family Adventure. Let’s call this one…
The Billion Dollar Brownie
At the time I’m writing this, the nation, no, the world is waiting to see who, if anyone, is going to win tonight’s Mega Millions Lottery, totaling a whopping $1 Billion!
I can guarantee you that 9 out of every 10 houses are chatting about what they’d do with that money (whether they bought a lottery ticket or not). Our house was no exception.
As we talked about all of the places we would go, in addition to the people we would curse out, I stared at her, watching her eat a brownie from the batch she made yesterday. I was sour because although I cooked dinner for everyone, she saw fit to heat up a brownie for herself and not make one for me.
Realizing that she wasn’t going to make me one, I turned on Hulu to continue my binging of the show “Lost” (yes, I know it’s old, but I’m just now getting into it. I’m on season 5 of 6). She realized that was her cue because she wasn’t watching it so she grabbed her things and made her way for the stairs.
“So you’re really not going to heat me up a brownie and bring it with some milk?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t do that, even if it was my birthday.
“Nope,” she said flatly.
“You suuuure?” I asked.
“Yyyyyep,” she quickly answered before looking up at the slip of printed paper I pulled out of my wallet.
“That’s right,” I said, nodding my head up and down victoriously. I bought a lottery ticket. You were just fantasizing, but I spent $3 and very soon, I’m gonna make this a reality. So when you see me on TV at the press conference, by MYSELF, claiming my winnings, remember it all started with the simplest request: A basic brownie, microwaved for 10 seconds…
…and a cup of 2% milk!
Not being one to ever give in to terrorists’ demands or at the least, doing me a favor, even after my kick-ass meal, she turned up her nose and walked up the stairs, not looking back.
I got up from the couch and walked to the main floor bathroom to wash my hands before pausing to hear her voice. She was speaking at half-volume upstairs, hoping I wouldn’t hear.
But I did.
“Kevin,” she half-whispered down the hall to my son. “Run downstairs and make your father a heated brownie with some milk, please. Hurry up before he makes it himself!”
She still ain’t gettin’ no money…
And just like that, another Davis Family Adventure is born.
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