It scorched layers off his Lingual Papillae.
A mere thirty seconds for the microwave to bubble his mac and cheese into molten lava.
He gulped water.
Efforts… futile. Tongue screaming.
“You okay?” She smirked.
“Hot,” He replied.
“Want milk, baby tongue?”
He had warm cranberry juice. No need for milk, ice, or her debilitating jabs.
He blew on his bowl before eating another forkful of her macaroni.
“Tasty?” She asked.
Nicely crusted…. perfectly seasoned parade of cheeses. Brilliance in a bowl.
The best he’d ever tasted.
“Its okay,” He answered. “I’ve had better.”