And in the end, she was more upset by the orange soda than the empty milk carton.

“Bert, please?”

“Christ, relax,” he turned back to the television.

Dropped on the head, it had to be true. Even their blind, epileptic golden doodle was more reliable than he was.

Family first, yeah right.

“Get me a drink.”

Helene stared at her hands- a cheap manicure and white knuckles.

“I’m thirsty”

Kisses only come after.

“Let’s hurry up, now.”

Maybe not this time though.

“Now, Helene.”

“Orange soda?” her voice shook softly.

“Please baby, don’t make me do this.”

Quinn squirmed against the table legs.

“Run.”

Terrified, Helene galloped across the kitchen, flying over half finished cereal bowls.

Under the fridge Quinn gnawed quietly on a piece of forgotten jerky.

“Vixen!” Worried brows smoothed out when she stumbled over an empty milk carton.

“X chromosomes, goddamn.”

“Yes, but what will you drink Bert”

“Zilch.”