He wasn't sure why - A Poem

Kyle asked how much it cost for a small chocolate milk.

He wasn't sure why he asked. 

He didn't like chocolate. 

It was too sweet.

He didn't like milk.

It was too cow uddery.

He didn't like chocolatized milk. 

It was too much like a combination of the previous two things.

He didn't like small sized things.

If something is desirable why not get a large version of it? 

He didn't like paying for stuff.

It cost money.

He didn't like the word 'cost'. 

It sometimes sounded like 'caused' to him.

He didn't like causing things.

Because then he'd have to take responsibility.

He didn't like taking responsibility for things, because he thought taking things was tantamount to stealing. 

He didn't like questioning people.

Because that would require requesting an answer.

He didn't like requesting answers because that was tantamount to intrusion.

He didn't like intrusion.

Because it reminded him of things that are uddery.

No he wasn't sure at ALL why he asked how much it cost for a small chocolate milk.

But the young cute redhead waitress with the adorable smile, sweet generous eyes, and amply visible bosom answered anyway. 

She really is good at her job.

I can see why we hired her.