Once upon a time, on a tiny island that smelled like warm vanilla cookies, there lived a boy named Ben. Flavor Island was not like other islands—it was made of candy clouds, chocolate rivers, and lollipop trees that *crackled* like fireworks when the wind blew through them. Ben loved exploring, especially when his pockets were full of gummy worms that squished between his fingers like jelly.

One morning, Ben woke up to the *squelch-squelch* of his favorite breakfast: rainbow porridge. It was so colorful, it looked like a paintbox had sneezed into his bowl. But today, the porridge tasted... *blah*. Like soggy cardboard. Ben’s nose wrinkled. "Yuck!" he said, pushing the bowl away. His spoon *clinked* against the table, and a tiny drop of porridge splattered onto his shoe. *Splat!*

"I don’t WANNA eat this!" Ben stomped his foot. The floorboards *creaked* like an old pirate’s laugh. His cheeks puffed up like two red balloons, and his hands balled into fists. A strange *hissss* sound escaped his lips—like a teapot about to explode. Ben was ANGRY. Not just a little grumpy, but *volcano-about-to-erupt* angry. His heart *thump-thumped* so loud, he thought the neighbors might hear it.

He stormed outside, kicking a pebble that *pinged* off a licorice fence. The air smelled like burnt sugar, and the grass under his feet felt prickly, like a hairbrush turned upside down. Ben didn’t care. He wanted to yell at the sky. "I HATE PORRIDGE!" he shouted. The words echoed back: *Hate porridge... hate porridge...* A flock of jellybean birds *fluttered* away, their wings leaving a trail of glittery dust.

Then, Ben heard a tiny *sniffle*. Behind a bush made of cotton candy, he spotted a little creature with fur as fluffy as a cloud. It was a Marshmallow Bunny, and it was crying. Big, gooey tears plopped onto its paws. *Plop. Plop.* "What’s wrong?" Ben asked, his anger fizzling like a soda left open too long.

The bunny hiccuped. "I-I lost my favorite carrot. It was *crunchy* like autumn leaves and smelled like sunshine. Now I’ll never find it!" The bunny’s ears drooped like wilted flowers. Ben’s chest felt tight. He remembered how he felt when he lost his lucky marble last week—like the world had turned gray.

"I’ll help you find it!" Ben said. He forgot all about his porridge. The two of them searched under gumdrop rocks and behind peppermint trees. Ben’s hands got sticky from pushing aside honeycomb vines, and his knees were covered in dirt that smelled like wet earth after rain. *Squish. Squish.* Then—*CRUNCH!*—Ben’s foot landed on something hard. He picked it up. It was the carrot! But... it was *tiny*. Like a baby’s finger. The bunny’s eyes widened. "That’s not my carrot!"

Ben’s shoulders slumped. His hands felt heavy, like they were filled with wet sand. "Oh no," he whispered. The bunny patted his arm. "It’s okay. Maybe... maybe we can share it?" Ben looked at the carrot. It *was* small. But the bunny’s smile was big and warm, like a hug. "Okay," he said. They split the carrot in half. *Snap!* It was sweet and juicy, and the crunch sounded like a happy song. *Crunch-crunch!*

As they ate, the Marshmallow Bunny giggled. "You know, when I’m angry, I hop in a circle until I’m dizzy. Wanna try?" Ben laughed. "That sounds silly!" But he hopped anyway. *Boing! Boing!* Soon, they were both spinning like tops, their laughter ringing through the trees. *Giggle-giggle!* The air smelled like strawberries now, and the grass felt soft, like a kitten’s belly.

When Ben stopped spinning, his head felt wobbly, but his heart felt light. He looked at the bunny. "Thanks," he said. "I think... I don’t feel angry anymore." The bunny nodded. "Anger is like a storm. It makes everything loud and messy. But storms always pass."

Ben smiled. He picked a daisy from the grass—it tickled his palm like a feather—and tucked it behind the bunny’s ear. "Here. For you." The bunny’s nose twitched. "For me?" Ben nodded. "Because you’re my friend."

That night, as Ben lay in bed, the sound of the chocolate river *glug-glugging* outside his window, he thought about the day. His anger had been big and hot, like a dragon’s sneeze. But kindness? Kindness was like a cool breeze. It made everything better. He closed his eyes, and the last thing he smelled was the sweet, buttery scent of the daisy on his nightstand. *Sniff.*

The end.