Gus called his little sister Lizzie over to the kitchen table.
“Smell this,” said Gus. He handed her an open plastic bag.
“Why? What’s it smell like?”
“Table cheese,” said Gus.
Lizzie grimaced. “No.”
“Seriously, you gotta smell this.”
“Why? What is it?”
“Just smell it,” pleaded Gus as he waved the bag under his own nose. “It’s crazy.”
“I don’t think so. Tell me what it is first.”
“Just smell it. It’s alright, I promise.”
Lizzie studied Gus carefully. She was naturally skeptical of anything her brother promised.
“Where’s it from?” she asked.
“It was at the grocery store.”
“Since when do you buy stuff at the grocery store?”
“I didn’t say I bought it, I just found it there,” said Gus.
“You found it?”
“I don’t know,” said Lizzie.
“Come on, it’s not gonna kill you. It hasn’t done anything to me.”
“Says you. For all I know, you’re immune. Or maybe that stuff made you what you are today, a mutant.”
“At least I’m not a girl,” said Gus, sticking out his tongue. “Are you gonna smell it, or are you a chicken?”
Lizzie couldn’t stand being called a chicken. She glared at Gus and slowly leaned toward the bag.
“Ew! That’s awful! What is it?”
Gus laughed. “It’s my toe jam collection.”
Lizzie grabbed her nose. “You big jerk! Mom,” she called as she ran out of the room.
Gus called back to her, “I’m just kidding. It’s table cheese. Don’t tell mom. Lizzie!”