Septiplier One-Shots

Cereal

It was a fine day outside. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and everything was peaceful. Well everything except for the Fishbach household.
"TOM! WHERE ARE MY KRISPY KRUNCHES?!"
Stumbling down the stairs, the older Fishbach brother blinked sleepily at his sibling, "Whaa?" He tilted his head.
"Oh I finished them yesterday, sorry."
"YOU DID WHAT?!"
"Mark, calm down, it's not the end of the world. Just eat some toast."
"NO! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! I NEED MY KRISPY KRUNCHES! I LIVE TO EAT KRISPY KRUNCHES! I DID NOT COME BACK FOR THE HOLIDAYS JUST EAT THE LOWLY PEASANT BRANDS!"
"Fine, fine I'll get it later at Walmart or something. Just quiet down you're going to wake the whole house up."
Glaring at his brother the entire time, Mark popped two slices of bread into the toaster.
"I thought you loved me, Tom," he grumbled as he took a bite out of his jam-covered toast.
"I said I was sorry. Will you feel better if we go get your precious Krispy Krunches right now?"
"Yeah!" Mark nodded vigorously. "Wait, we?"
"Well, yeah, I don't want you hating me even more if I come back with the wrong brand and having to go back to waste more money over sugary cereal." The younger Fishbach, paused, silently debating, then shoved the rest of his breakfast into his mouth.
"Alright, just wait a minute."
~~
At the supermarket, there was a giant mob of people. Everyone was there, going last-minute Thanksgiving ingredient shopping. After deftly sidestepping another couple examining turkeys, Mark arrived at the cereal aisle.
"Stupid Tom, making me go get my sugary goodness all by myself. You may say that you don't know the cereal brand but we all know you're just a lazy bum." Mark complained as he scoured the shelves. There! He spied the familiar blue and yellow logo. And there's only one left! His pace started to speed up. Mark could almost taste the glorious Krispy Krunches. Suddenly, a pale hand, that was most definitely not Mark's, reached out from no where and grabbed the box. Everything slowed down. Helpless, all Mark could do was watch while his favorite cereal was snatched from right under his nose. Wait a minute. I'm the great Mark Fishbach. What the hell did that bastard think he was doing trying to take my box of Krispy Krunches?! He straightened his shoulders and raised his head higher.
"Hey! You there! With the Krispy Krumches!" Mark called out. The owner of the pale hand turned around to reveal an equally pale face.
"Me?" The pale man asked, with an obvious Irish accent and a confused expression.
"Yeah you! What are you doing with that box of Krispy Krunches?"
"Ummm... buying it?"
"Yeah, but what then? What happened after you buy it?"
"I'm going to eat it?"
"Have ever considered the fact that there are probably millions of other people, such as me, in the world that also want to eat those Krispy Krunches? And that you, are selfishly keeping those wonderful flakes of goodness all to yourself?"
"What? Dude, if you just ask, they probably have, like, tons of boxes of this in the back. You do know that right?"
Oh crap. Mark began to blubber to try to cover up his mistake.
"Ye-yeah, I knew that! I was, was, just...trying to ask if you wanted to... share the cereal with me sometime?" The Irishman laughed and walked up to a very embarrassed Mark.
"Yeah, sure you did. Here you can have this one," he pressed the box into flustered man's hand. Up close, Mark noticed that the pale guy had unusually pretty, light blue eyes. They twinkled with a playful sparkle and Mark had the feeling that he could stare into them forever. The moment ended when the Irishman turned around.
"And if you still want to share," the Irishman called over his shoulder, "the address is 42 Pine Street. But only for a limited time, so stop by soon!"
Dumbfounded, Mark stood and stared at the box in his hand for a long while before gaining his senses and walking toward the cash registers. Even then, the image of pretty, sparkling blue eyes remained seared into his brain.