Moldy Cheese

Billy is an optimist, Stevie is a pessimist, and Henry's a genius. They're nine.

The fridge door swung open. It was mostly empty, but only mostly. There was a round of cheese sitting in the center of the middle shelf. 

"It has an afro." Billy commented. It was all he could think. The cheese was gloriously moldy. It looked like a hedge, or a small dog.

"I'm not eating that." Stevie said. 

"It probably tastes better than it smells."

"It smells like garbage and dead snails."

"It'll taste like puke then." Henry said, "Anyway, the mold has to be advanced in its growth before it shows; for it to be this populous..."

"What're you talking about?"

"Yeah, what are you talking about?"

"Put moronically, there's more mold on the inside than on the outside."

"Like a jelly donut."

"Yeah, but with mold."

"But with mold, yes."

"I don't like jelly donuts." Billy said. 

They stared at the cheese. 

"I'm trying to think of a good metaphor," Henry said, then turned to his compatriots, "any ideas?

"It has an afro?" Billy suggested. 

"Metaphor? As in?"

"To the uneducated, a metaphor is a comparison."

"You sound like a teacher."

"If you have something to learn, I  am teacher."

"He sounds like my math teacher."

"My history teacher is a pig."

"Maybe he'd like to have the cheese then."

"Billy, Stevie was using metaphor."

"No I wasn't."

"You were. You compared your math teacher to a pig."

"He is a pig."

"That's how you phrase metaphor; there's nothing to indicate comparison like there is within simile."

"Stevie's teacher's an actual pig Henry." Billy said. 

The boys were silent for a moment.

"Maybe he would like the cheese then. Perhaps we should close the fridge."

"Nah."

"Since when are pigs allowed to teach?"

Billy shrugged. "Dunno."

"Since Mr Hanson bought a pig." Stevie said, and walked out the back door.