They sprinted along the concrete floor, pipes rumbling, basement walls creaking.
“Oh man, you shouldn’t have done that,” the older brother groaned.
“What else was I gonna do?” cried the younger one. “You just handed it to me!”
Good point. Options had been terribly few. So, he panicked and flushed the lit cherry bomb down the basement toilet.
A costly move.
They were halfway up the basement stairs when the toilet exploded into a million shards of yellowed porcelain.
The two siblings tumbled into the kitchen in a cloud of smoke, covered in plaster and toilet water.
“Gentlemen,” said Father.
