RE: Make a Story Shop!
Pokemaniac: Here it is, your request, but I made two versions. You can choose between the two.
Version A:
Crying over Spilled Milk
I vigorously descended down the stairs. It was morning, a Saturday morning and it was a routine of mine to have milk every morning and every night. Entering the kitchen I opened the fridge for a carton of milk and getting a glass cup near the sink.
Slowly pouring the liquid in, placing it down on the counter top on the table. My pet dog had just entered. It was a Labrador retriever with golden like fur, it was reaching adult hood now. I took my hand and scratched its ear lovingly, it responded with a pant and thumping of its tail.
I slowly stood up, but something happened. My hand somehow knocked the glass cup over. My reaction wasn’t quick enough or my shock was a bit long, the whole glass tipped over, spilling the liquid inside on the floor, barley missing my dog.
The liquid quickly fell on the floor, making a splash as soon as it made contact with the hard tiled floor.
“Calm down, there probably is some milk left in the carton,” I thought forgetting the spilled milk. Grabbing the carton I looked inside to find that there was nothing left. I put my hand over my pale face, trying not to be upset or cry over spilled milk.
Version B:
Crying over Spilled Milk
I was in my carton container. I hated this pitiful,paper like, box. I was beverage for humans to feast on me. One by one my friends left, being fed on by those humans. I just barley survived.
Outside of the carton, I had found out was another interior layer. A cold like room with other foods and beverages. Passing my days, counting the days where I soon will be next. Truth be told, it was irritating, waiting for such a demise to happen.
It was until one day, my carton interior was pulled out of the frosty room. Troublesome it was my demise. I was tilted over and placed into another interior, a see through one. Once the pouring was done I was placed on a surface, probably a table top. A creature had entered the house. It had golden blond fur, with eyes that could pierce anything with just one glance.
That low life human scratched its ears, making the creature happy, almost making a smile. Its end part was thumping on the tile floor. The human slowly went up, but just when he did, his hand knocked on the glass interior. Before knowing it I was tilted and now falling.
When I hit the floor with a loud splash, the human had looked in the carton, while I lay there forgotten and useless, before spending my last few seconds of life, I had cursed the human, but he obviously didn’t hear me. I was just spilled milk after all.
