Apple Juice

Flash Fiction

Apple Juice

“This is your last chance,” Dad said to Kenny.

Kenny, four years old, “How many chances did I have?”

“What?”

“You said it was my last chance. I don’t remember any other chances. What does a chance look like?”

“That’s not how it works. I ask you a question, and expect an answer.”

“Is a answer part of a chance?”

“Yes, exactly. I asked you why the apple juice is on the floor.”

“Is apple juice a chance?”

“Apple juice doesn’t belong on the floor…”

“Why not? It’s in a nice bottle.”

“Apple juice isn’t supposed to be on the floor. It goes in the fridge or on the counter…”

“Oh, well I could reach it in the frigerator, but I can’t get it up on the table. The chairs are in the way.”

“Why didn’t you ask Mom or me to help?”

“I wanted to, but you were watching the news and Mom was in the bathroom. I didn’t want to wait. I thought I could do it.”

“Ah… well, you don’t even have a glass for the apple juice.”

“I can’t reach the glasses Silly!”

“So, what were you going to do?”

I was going to just take the cap off and drink some.”

“Right out of the bottle?”

“Dad! You do it all the time!”

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot.”

“It’s OK. You can have some too! But I can’t get the top off, it’s stuck. Can you get it off?

“Let me try,” Dad sat on the floor and took the apple juice bottle. Popping off the cap he took a sip, then gave the bottle to Kenny.

Mom walked in.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, with a perfectly straight face. She’d heard it all and couldn’t wait to hear them explain.