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"I want cow ice, wife."
Emma blinked, tilting her head like she wasn't sure she heard right. "...Cow ice?"
Morro nodded with the utmost seriousness. "Yes. Cow ice. I require it immediately."
Emma pressed a hand to her forehead. "Morro, do you mean ice cream?"
"No." Morro crossed his arms, huffing like a stubborn five-year-old. "Cow ice. The frozen milk of cows, churned into sweetened delight. Cow. Ice."
Emma's lips twitched, fighting the urge to laugh. "...So, ice cream."
"NO." Morro stomped his foot. "Not ice cream. Cow ice." He leaned in closer, whispering as if revealing some dark secret. "Ice cream is just cow ice that got... corrupted with sprinkles."
Emma actually snorted at that one. "You're telling me the entire dessert industry has been lying to us, and what we call ice cream is really... corrupted cow ice?"
Morro nodded gravely. "Exactly. I demand the pure version. Find it."
Emma threw her hands in the air. "Where on earth am I supposed to find uncorrupted cow ice, Morro?"
Morro narrowed his eyes. "A farm, obviously. You have five minutes."
"FIVE MINUTES?!" Emma yelped.
That was the exact moment Annie walked in holding a carton of plain vanilla ice cream. "Hey, anyone want—"
