Later That Morning
The clink of utensils.
The soft bubbling of a kettle.
The subtle but ever-present scent of toast—just slightly burnt, because [Mother] insists "it adds flavor."
Sunlight slid lazily through the kitchen window, brushing the corners of the table like a golden cat curling up for a nap.
His Mother from outside the Tobey's room
"Tobey, come for breakfast!"
Tobey, sitting cross-legged on the floor, nose buried deep in a book labeled Advanced Cell Biology 1—which, let's be honest, shouldn't be in the hands of a five-year-old unless you're actively trying to summon a biotech apocalypse.
"Yes."
His Mother, her voice now less gentle summer breeze and more *divine judgment bouncing off hallway walls
"Fast. Everyone is waiting."
Reluctantly, Tobey closed the book—like he was parting with the secrets of the universe—and shuffled over to the dining table.
He sat down.
And immediately… the air shifted.
"How was the book?" His father while sipping from a steaming mug like the man who definitely knows something you don't
He blinked
"You know?"
His Father, calmly
"Yes indeed."
Tension.
Thicker than the syrup on the pancakes.
And just as sticky.
"…Did you free the cat from the wardrobe? And… the shed stuff. Is that yours?"
His Father, sets cup down with an audible clink, because drama is hereditary
"Yes, I freed Bella.
And no. The shed? It doesn't belong to me.
Technically, it doesn't belong to anyone in this house."
His Mother, smiling sweetly—but with eyes sharper than freshly whetted kitchen knives
"Bella—" (clears throat) "You both have some explaining to do."
And like synchronized swimmers tossed into shark-infested waters—
Tobey and Father, in shaky, harmonized voices
"Yes, ma'am."
His Mother, with the tilt of her head that signaled incoming doom
"So… what about Bella?
What did you do to her?"
His Father, hands raised like a man mid-police interrogation
"Hey, don't look at me like that! I just freed her from Tobey's wardrobe."
Tobey – internal monologue
"What can I say… what can I say…"
"Young man, why did you do that?"
"Umm… she was wandering around the house in the dark, so I figured—hey, maybe she needed company.
So I… yeeted her into the wardrobe.
With the other demon."
A moment of silence.
His Mother, blinked once.
Then burst into laughter—deep, rich, and very much "this child is mine, unfortunately."
She wiped a tear
"Oh, you little gremlin."
(still laughing)
"Fine. You want to lock up guests?
You're cleaning the house today."
"Awwww, why me…" Tobey in despair
He turned to Father, hoping for some mercy, some salvation—
Instead, Father responded with a smug grin that said, "You did this to yourself."
"Why should I be the only one who suffers around here?"
Oh, he was plotting something.
You could feel it in the air.
Like a villain monologue simmering just behind his innocent expression.
His eyes narrowing
"Dad, where did you learn to throw pens like—like throwing knives?"
His Mother, sipping tea without missing a beat
"Pen?"
Him with subtle trauma
"To be precise… fountain pen."
His Mother, another sip, unbothered
"That's new. I never thought about it before."
(turning slightly to Father)
"Dear, I'd like to know—how exactly did you learn that?"
[Tobey – in his mind]
"She's not even surprised.
Does she know something I don't?
Is this… normal in our house?!"
His Mother, smiling sweetly
"I know you're good with throwing knives."
Boom.
Mental explosion. Right between the eyes.
"She knew?! he mentally collapsed
I thought he just liked darts!
You know—like a normal suburban dad?!"
"And you're good with guns too. How?"
His mother throws Boom number #2.
Tobey's unusual soul left his body and filed for early retirement.
Him – mentally screaming
"GUNS?!
What is this?!
A spy family?! A secret assassin agency?!"
His Mother, puppy dog eyes now activated, totally ignoring Tobey's meltdown
"Tell me how, dear."
But Tobey wasn't done.
Oh no.
He had one card left.
"By the way… he pinned me to the wall."
The temperature dropped.
The shadows stretched.
The aura… shifted.
His Mother, still wearing the smile of a well-mannered angel, now radiated demon energy like an overboiling kettle.
"…Honey. Do you have something to say?" In cutesy voice while her eyes glowing red
Tobey – internal triumphant music begins to play
"Mission completed."
Father – visibly sweating
"About that… he entered my room at night.
I thought it was an intruder."
Oh look, a lie.
Smooth. Fast.
Served warm, with just enough seasoning to pass as truth.
Ah yes, the Father of Lies.
No wonder Tobey's so gifted.
"Is there is stupid written on my face. Do I look like someone who would believe that?" mother in disbelief
Father, trying to recover, raising his mug like a defense shield
"No, no… you are beautiful. As always."
"Aww, thank you."
(sweet pause)
"But I'm not dumb."
She sipped her tea.
And dropped the hammer.
"Your punishment is to cook dinner tonight."
"…When was the last time I cooked?" father questioning
"When we were in Sector A." while she sipped her tea
Tobey: "Wait—you know how to cook?!
No. I'm not even surprised anymore.
And what is Sector A?!"
him, squinting, now suspicious
"You both need to tell me about your past."
Father, sipping calmly
"…That's a story for another day."
[Narrator, deadpan]
And somewhere in the heavens, the gods laughed.
Because if you think this is just a family comedy…
You're not paying attention.