BobWrites

“Where is it?”
“Where's what?”
“My last Fig Newton!”
“I guess I ate it.”
“You what?”
“I said I guess I ate it.”
“My last Fig Newton?,” I shouted.
“Yup” he answered quietly, “I ate it.”
“I brought six Fig Newtons. Three for you and three for me. You ate four and I only had two!”
He began a dramatic demonstration of counting on his fingers.
“I can't argue with your math, it's right on,” he replied smirking.
“How could you?”
“It was just sitting there. I didn't know you wanted it, and I didn't realize you were keeping count.” After a pause he added, “And I didn't want it to get stale.”
“It was perfectly fresh. I opened them just yesterday.” My voice quivered with anger.
“Why are you so upset? It wasn't even a perfect Fig Newton. One edge was broken off. So it wasn't even a whole one.”
“It's the principle of the thing!” I insisted furiously.
“Oh! I didn't realize Fig Newtons had principles.”
“Very funny!,” I growled. Tomorrow you'd better bring six Fig Newtons with four of them for me.”
“No. Tomorrow I'm bringing Oreos. I've already bought them.”
“I don't like Oreos!” I objected.
He brought Oreos.
He and I are no longer friends.