Porridge

Sent by my old friend Barry:

Baby Bear goes down­stairs and sits in his small chair at the table, he looks into his small bowl. It is emp­ty. “Who’s been eat­ing my por­ridge?” he squeaks.

Papa Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair. He looks into his big bowl, and it is also emp­ty. “Who’s been eat­ing my por­ridge?” he roars.

Mom­ma Bear puts her head through the serv­ing hatch from the kitchen and yells, “How many times do we have to go through this with you idiots? It was Mom­ma Bear who got up first, it was Mom­ma Bear who woke every­one in the house, it was Mom­ma Bear who made the cof­fee, it was Mom­ma Bear who unloaded the dish­wash­er from last night, and put every­thing away. It was Mom­ma Bear who went out in the cold ear­ly morn­ing air to fetch the news­pa­per, it was Mom­ma Bear who set the damn table, it was Mom­ma Bear who put the frig­gin’ cat out, cleaned the lit­ter box, and filled the cat’s water and food dish and now that you’ve decid­ed to drag your sor­ry bear-ass­es down­stairs, and grace Mom­ma Bear’s kitchen with your grumpy pres­ence, lis­ten good, cause I’m only going to say this one more time.

“I HAVEN’T MADE THE %@#$*%# PORRIDGE YET!!”

Cyn is Rick's wife, Katie's Mom, and Esther & Oliver's Mémé. She's also a professional geek, avid reader, fledgling coder, enthusiastic gamer (TTRPGs), occasional singer, and devoted stitcher.
Posts created 4255

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Related Posts

Begin typing your search term above and press enter to search. Press ESC to cancel.

Back To Top