Strawberry Milk

This is one of my very distinct memories:
In the kitchen with its tall island and its huge fridge
We open the fridge door craving the goodies inside it
all the food calling our names
The temptation overpowers us from all directions
But one stands triumphant of them all
The strawberry milk calls our name, and we quickly
give in to it

What could go wrong

The adults have gone and the two little twin children
a boy and a girl grab the strawberry milk
and set it on the island
The boy grabs the biggest knife he can find
The girl holds open the plastic, making a path for the
knife to follow
Nothing can go wrong the milk is here; and there is
no one to stop them, just one little sheet of plastic wrapping

What could go wrong

The boy’s hand cuts what he thinks is the plastic
and a shriek fills the air
There is blood all over and the girl’s hand has been
deeply cut; she looks at her hand, tears streaming down her face
One diagonal bloody gash across her fingers look up at her
“But I thought I cut the plastic,” argues the little boy terrified
The adults come in and scold the little boy
After the girl has been cared for the boy turns to the Strawberry milk
it’s triumphant face mocking him as if trying to communicate with him

What could go wrong you ask

Anything