"Don't gulp your food," Rosy said. "It's Charlie's turn to drive you."
In his high chair, Timmy scooped up handfuls of oatmeal and heaved them over the port side.
When Charlie came to the door he had a gift-wrapped box for them. It looked heavy. He gave it to Rosy and slipped on one of Timmy's oatmeal bombs and flew headlong into the couch.
"Happy wedding anniversary, you two," Charlie said, picking himself up. "When are you going to fix my fence?"
Rosy weighed the box in her arms. "Charlie, that's real sweet of you and Beth. Let's open it now, George."
"We're late," Charlie said. He wiped his shoe on the rug. "Come on, pal."
They took the freeway out of Sunnydale. Downtown the clock on the Trojan Life & Casualty building gave them four minutes to get there.
"What was in that box you brought?" George asked.
"A pressure cooker."
"Oh, no."