...pearance of a corkscrew.
“Honey,” he whispered, “the neighbors!” She withdrew her massive arms to a normal looking size, squeezing his cheek.
“I just miss you when you’re away at work,” she said, turning away. “Come on. You must be hungry.” He followed after her, shaking his head happily at her bright demeanor.
“What have we got to eat?” he asked. She was right, he was hungry.
“Not much, I’m afraid. I still have to run out to the grocery store and, what with Dash’s metabolism over 100 times normal, he empties out the cupboards just about every day.” She opened the cupboard and stepped aside, and Bob saw she was right: it was almost totally empty. The only thing left was a dusty old box of Bran Fibers. Ugh. But he was an adult now, and he couldn’t eat sugary cereal all the time anymore. His recent adventures against Syndrome had helped him lose a lot of weight, and he couldn’t bear the thought of working it all off again.
“That’s fine, sweetie,” he said, trying not to show any disappointment at making the mature, but boring, decision. She poured the cereal into two bowls, added milk, and set it down on the table. “When do we need to get the kids from school? I’m not usually home this early.”