Mitchell plans. Matthew improvises.
Together? Chaos every time.

Mitchell lined up the fireworks like a field commander preparing for battle. “Nobody touch anything. I’m getting the hose,” he ordered, already planning a safe and spectacular show.

Pop! Zip! Bang!

The bush went up in flames.

“MATTHEW ALLEN!”

Matthew stood there, lighter in hand, guilty grin plastered on his face. “What??? I’m 5-0 and the bad guy ran into the bush. I had to fire my… whatever this is.”

A Roman Candle erupted, spitting fireballs in all directions. Mitchell hit the ground, grabbed the hose, and unleashed a spray—soaking Matthew instead of the flames.

Mitchell, dodging sparks, yelled over the chaos: “Of all the ones, why did my one have to be that one?”

Matthew, dripping wet but still smiling, shrugged. “Technically… I saved the neighborhood.”