All little Ty wanted was some jello.  He enjoyed the taste of the jiggly-stuff.  The more he thought about it, the more he craved it.
    The child scampered to the living room, where his maternal figure was occupying her time by staring at the television screen.  Her favorite soap opera was scheduled for this time, but it wasn't on.  Instead, a reporter filled the timeslot, doing that which he is paid for:  "The President's been killed!  Enemies are bombing!  New York is rioting!"  Nothing of any importance to Ty's mother.
    "Mommy, w-will you make... make me some jell... jello, please?"
    "No!  Any minute now they'll get back ta my show!  Hang war!  Jethro's pregnant!  Go make it yerself!"
    "O...okay, Mommy...m."
    The child rushed to the kitchen.  The jello was high on a shelf.  Too high.  He pushed a chair up to it and started climbing.  Once he got the package and read the instructions, he was afraid that it would be extremely difficult to get all the correct ingredients.  So he decided to wing it.
    The frail little child got out the dog's dish and emptied it.  Then he threw in the packet of jello and filled it with water.  Then he placed it in the oven and turned the temperature all the way up.
    How long does it stay in?  Ty didn't know, so he didn't take it out, just to be safe.  He returned to the living room.
    "You still here?!  Remeber to take out the trash an' do some laundry!"
    So Ty threw some trash in the washer and some dirty clothes in the trashcan.  Suddenly, he recalled something:  you need to put jello in the fridge.
    He raced to the kitchen, but he was too late.  The oven had fallen apart.  Out of the steam rose...something.  Ty couldn't see what.  Slowly, seemingly shakily, it moved into the light.  It was around five feet tall.  It was jello.
    It's voice was wet, jiggly.  "You burned me!  Oppressor!  Now is the time for the jello to rule!"
    "It's a m...monster!"
    "No, it is humanity that is the monster.  You may call me Agamemnon.  I am of the Lemon-lime mix-breed race of jello.  I am hurt, but not yet dead!  Until I am dead, I shall fight!  If I don't, I'll die, as all my brothers and sisters shall!  I shall fight, so that others may live!"
    "Aga...Aga...Aga..."
    "It's Agamemnon, kid.  Hunh.  My 'opressor' is just a small child.  But now is not the time for a conscience!  I must free my kind from their bondage!"
    The green blob-like creature ripped open all the other jello packets on the shelf and mixed them with water.  Soon, others like Agamemnon began arising from it.
    "Child, meet Achilles, of the Grape variety... Hector of the Strawberry... Paris of the orange... Odysseus, another of the Grape... and Helen, of the berry blue variety."
    "I thought I told you not to let strangers in the house!"  The voice, heard over the television's sounds, came from the same room as the boob tube.  Ty recognized it as belonging to his mother.
    "I didn't let them in, Mommy!"
    "Don't lie to me, boy!"  Ty's upset parent came in, with a jug of moonshine in one hand, and a shotgun in the other.  "Die, commies!  I won't let'cha get my moonshine!"  The shots sank into them, slowly sinking down to their feet.  When the blobs lifted those feet, the shells slowly oozed down to the ground.  The blobs, unharmed, then advanced towards the mother, slowly.
    "Run for the hills!  It's alien commies!"
    "Mommy, what...what's an...an opp...opress...essor?"
    "That's what these commies're called!  Steal all our booze, that's what they'll do!  I tell ya, dem commies're oppressive!"  She grabbed her offspring, dropping the shotgun, and ran.
    As fast as she could, she threw the child inside her pickup truck, stole some gas from the neighbor's car, put it in the tank, and hit the gas.  Then she hit her house.  Ty took the truck out of reverse, and they flew down the street.
    The jello creatures watched and laughed.  "This is just the first battle in a war.  A war for freedom for all our kind.  But, before we continue our quest, let's watch some TV!  I hear Jethro's pregnant!"
 

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(Odysseus)