The Twinkie
As my brother and I walked into our house yesterday, we were talking about school. "How was your day?" I asked. "Good," he replied. We walked into the kitchen and began searching for a scrap of food to eat. But to no avail. We hunted through the cupboards, only to find an old jar of Fischer Not-so-Favorites collecting dust. I opened the fridge, hoping against hope to find a good sugary product. Then I saw it. A box containing creme-filled Twinkies! I lunged, grabbing, ripping, tearing. When I finally got the box open, I stared at the contents. Only one remained. I checked to see if my brother had not seen my discovery, but it was too late. He dropped the old plate he had been licking and ran toward me. I fumbled with the wrapper, panic setting in. I finally managed to rip the small bag, but he was upon me. He grabbed me by one arm and groped for the Twinkie. Luckily, my arms are longer than his, and I had a second to think. I twisted around, thus momentarily putting my arm out of his reach. By digging my thumb into the wrapping, I was able to expose half of the Twinkie. My brother could sense that he was losing the battle; tears of frustration welled up in his eyes. I lodged the first half of the Twinkie in my mouth. Suddenly, and completely without warning, my brother tried to throw me off balance by lifting his feet off the ground. Surprised by this, I released my grip on him. Wrenching free, he made his final assault. But it was too late. The Twinkie was submerged beneath my lips, and my primal instincts were satisfied.
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