It was a usually seen situation in the Tennyson RV: young Gwendolyn attempting to do something that requires concentration while her cousin Ben bothers her. What made this one different was the considerable number of soda cans strewn across the floor.
"Ben, I'm trying to write a story here. Could you stop being gross?"
"Really? I'm saving the world again. And no, I can't."
"I'll have you know there's a burping contest in Ten-nessee, and I don't in-ten-d to be number ten in it."
She rubbed her forehead. "How did I know it was a matter of time before you made bad ten puns?" She glanced at the floor. "You shouldn't drink so much soda, it's bad for you..." And did a double take. "And besides, that's MY soda!"
"Well, not anymore."
"You jerk!" She quickly got up to investigate the fridge. "That's the last can, too! What's wrong with your soda? Why do you have to take mine?"
"Calm down, will you? It's just soda."
"JUST SODA!? Ben, I will kill you if you drink that last can!"
"Fine, fine, you can have it."
"Gimme!" She snatched it out of his hand. "Eww, you backwashed!"
"Ooops. Well, I guess that makes it mine, then."
"Ben, you don't understand. I need my soda!"
"Hey, you're the one who said it was bad for me. You'll live."
No more than ten hours later was she a nervous wreck curled up on the floor.
"So cold... cold without... soda... cold soda... need... soda.........."
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