Brick sat on a cloud with his brothers, “Booorrrrriiiiiinnnnngggg…”
“Yeah… Hey, wanna go push old ladies into the traffic?” Butch asked.
“We did that yesterday,” Brick said, rolling his large, red eyes.
Boomer said nothing and only glared at the two of them. THEY weren’t the ones that got hit on the head with a cane by one of those stupid old ladies.
Brick sighed, looking down at Townsville below, trying to think of something devious to do that they hadn’t already done in the past week.
“We could steal the mayor’s pickles,” Butch suggested.
Brick gave him a sidelong look, “That’s stupid.”
Butch stood on the cloud, fist ready, “Well, I don’t see you coming up with any ideas, Frankenstein.”
“That’s Ein, ugh, nevermind,” Brick said, exasperated.
Boomer was still glaring at them when he spotted three familiar streaks in the sky below their cloud. He slapped them both on the back and pointed.