"Alright, I give up," Rodney barked, flopping into the seat opposite John. "Who pissed in your wheaties and how do you want me to make them pay?"

John poked at his cereal without looking up. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Have you seen yourself lately? Even your hair is depressed!"

"It's nothing. Just..." His spoon scraped against the bowl as he mindlessly chased the last mushy remains of breakfast. "Never mind."

"What, I'm just supposed to wait until you go postal?"