Five minutes in the life...

You have not seen a fashion show until you've seen one invented by two five year old boys. Instead of hoop skirts and fairy wands, it involved a Home Depot tool set. They carefully aligned the plastic wrenches and screwdrivers to form the sides of the runway. I fitted Brent into his tool belt, and off they went, drills and hammers in hand.

They talked me into one trip down the lane, over my pleas that I was just one of the judges (there's only so much I'm willing to participate in before 7:30 in the morning). I wielded the drill like a champ, the perfect compliment to my frumpy green nightgown du jour. I was awarded 1 million points from Alex, and 238 from Brent, which allowed me to go anywhere in the world I wanted. Yippee!

I finally convinced them that I was better suited for the audience, and settled in to watch the performance. Unlike most traditional fashion shows I've glimpsed, this one bore an obstacle course of nuts and bolts that required special ninja moves in order to progress. Suddenly Brent broke free of the runway, and offered me a selection of magic potions - love, sun, water, and jungle. It took me two guesses before I picked the 'right' one, and I was handed a bright orange T-square.

He turned around and gasped. "Alex! What happened!?"

Alex was spinning on the floor, the once neat walls of the runway now scattered. "The builders came in while you were gone Brent. They're destroying everything!!". Brent had an expression of disbelief, "You mean our team?" "No" Alex said, "The bad guys!!".

Brent stood in a hurry, hands raised in horror. "Hold on to your underpants!! The bad guys are here". They both reach into their pajamas and literally hold their underpants while making a couple quick trips around the room, whimpering in mock fear.

At this point, the part where I comprehend what's going on goes to low visibility. They scurry about, with dramatic hand gestures and various sound effects. There concoct an impromptu magical fight scene - fire beams shoot loudly from their fingertips, bombs explode around their feet.

Brent plays dead in the middle of the floor, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. I intervene to get them to gear back the violence, suggesting that they go talk to the bad guys instead of resorting to bombs and lasers. Brent slowly rises up. "I-am-the-ghost-of-Brent. I-cannot-hear-people-talking-to-me" and takes off slowly, arms in true mummy fashion in front of him, walking with a zombie limp. Alex shrieks "Hold onto your underpants!" and feigns horror. Brent loses character focus and chides Alex "I don't HAVE any underpants, ALEX. I'm a ghost. REMEMBER!". You can almost hear the 'duh!' that he left off the end. "I am the ghost of all things poopy!" he exclaims next. And at that they both giggle from deep in their bellies and lose all sense of the game.

And another day begins...