Breakfast

Breakfast… it’s the only thing me and my brother can’t agree on. There is a rule in our house,  the last one to the kitchen has to make the other breakfast. I quietly climbed down the ladder of my bunk. BANG, I opened my door and there he was. We both gave each other a stink eye, and it was on. We sprinted to the kitchen like headless chickens, but I didn’t see the pile of carters smelly underpants and tripped. “I’ve lost” I whimpered. I got up and made him a jam toast. “NO”, he said “I like marmite.”