"Now it is Halloween," she says.
"What?" he asks. He is eating a quesadilla, cheese dripping down his freshly shaven face.
"I don't know what I'm dressing up as tonight." She pours herself another glass of grape juice. "I'm thinking maybe a ghost or... a ghost maybe."
"I'm going to be a crab monster. I made a really awesome costume." He shoves the rest of his breakfast into his mouth and stands up, knocking his chair over. "Don't look at me," he yells at her. He picks up the microwave from the countertop and holds it over his head like he's going to smash it. "You never believe me!"
"Fine," she says. "But I'm not cleaning it up, and I'm not buying you another one." She looks out the window. "Your carpool is here."
He stares at her unblinking. "I'm serious, Dianne. I'm serious." He shakes the microwave over his head.
Diane picks up her half-eatedn quesadilla and grape juice and slides past him into the living room. "Smash it. You're the only one who uses it."
"I use it, too," says the daughter Lily, hidden under the kitchen table.
"You do not!" he yells at her, shaking the microwave violently. "This microwave isn't for you!"
"I'm a grown woman! And it's about time you recognized my need to admit that I use the microwave." She sobs into her hands.
He closes his eyes as tight as he can. The microwave is getting heavy and his carpool honks one more time before leaving for work without him. He hears his wife start the shower upstairs and his daugter dry-heaving under the kitchen table.
"You never believe me about my crab costume!" He throws the microwave against the already dented refrigerator.
"I will be a crab, with big ass pincers and it'll be red and everyone will be impressed with my costume-making skills!"
Now it is Halloween.