astreetsussserenade:

“You know” Brad said conversationally as he sat down with his coffee “There are people whose job it is to test products and tweak them until they are the ideal versions. Food scientists spend month, and sometimes years, on a product. There are focus groups involved, Ray.”

“What’s your point?” Ray asked, not looking up from the project in his bowl.

“My point, you simpleminded miscreant, is that, while I don’t know what food product that used to be before you defiled it, I am certain that this is not its intended usage.”

“Someone woke up feeling sanctimonious” said Ray as he got up to get the milk and pour it in his bowl. “My graham cracker mush is not hurting the feelings of any weakass corporate nerds, and if it is, who the fuck cares? You can’t sit here and tell me that I need to stifle my creativity, my individuality and deny myself my godgiven right to enjoy myself in my own fucking home just to placate our capitalist overlords. Seriously, homes, this is America. Land of the free and home of the fucking brave. This dish is what we fought for, dude. For my right to eat graham crackers however I damn well please.”

Brad, who’d been frozen since he first heard the words “graham cracker mush” closed his eyes in a long, slow blink.

“That dish, and you, are abominations against God and man. I regret every single one of the choices that led me to this moment.”

Ray grinned at him around a lumpy, beige, mouthful “Yeah, baby, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”