If you were a cartoon character your face would have resembled a tomato and steam would have been shooting out of your ears. In the simplest of terms, you were fuming far more than you had ever been before.

There was only one culprit for the heinous crime- your husband Clinton Francis Barton. Although you loved the man, you weren't certain if you did anymore due to the fact that he had done something that was as good as murder in your eyes.

You stomped through your house, leaving the kitchen, clutching the remnants of the poor innocent object that he had ruined. After angrily making your way up the stairs you found Clint lying on the bed watching a movie.

"Prepare to die!"

Your words were bitter and murderous. If he could do something so heartless, gutting the man could only put him out of his misery at this point.

He looked at you rather confused, but when you threw the crumb filled packet at him, he knew what your anger was directed at. Clint's expression became bemused.

"C'mon! It was only a biscuit," he attempted to argue.

His tone tried to demean your anger and fury at him, trying to make it seem like it was a joke.

"It was the last bloody biscuit and you left the empty packet in the cupboard. What am I supposed to have with my tea?"

"We've got some pop tarts left," he offered, as though he was actually being helpful rather than being an uneducated imbecile.

A gasp escaped your lips at such a horrific suggestion. Who did he think you were?

"I'm not a barbarian!"

Why would he even think of suggesting such a thing? Moments such as this were ones that made you question his sanity and why the hell you ever married him.

Reluctantly he rolled off of the mattress, pausing the film that he had been watching. He took a step towards you, reaching a hand out to touch your arm but you jumped back too quickly.

"Why are you even so angry? It was just a biscuit," he frowned.

"How would you feel if I ate the last slice of pizza and left the pizza box in the microwave as though there were leftovers for later?" You questioned, knowing how to get him to see sense in giving him a situation he may find applicable.

He paused for a moment, his face dropping and him realising why you were so angry at his actions. Finally, he seemed pitiful and quickly embraced you in a hug before you could run away.

"I am so sorry my love, I didn't realise what pain I put your through," he sighed, kissing your hair.

"Apology accepted, but only if you go and buy another pack of biscuits," you stated looking up, trying to make yourself look innocent.

He gave you a grin, kissing you firmly.

"Of course, and when I get back I will order pizza."

~*~

Written by Charlotte.