Deciding against scalding him with chili, I walked over to the sink and reached around Joey to retrieve the bottle of green washing-up liquid. Without a word, I retrieved my stool, set it down behind him, and quietly climbed on top of it. Reveling in the drama I was about to inflict, I unscrewed the top, ripped his cap off, held the bottle over his head, and dumped the contents of the bottle on top of him. The minute the green slime plopped onto Joey’s head, his entire frame stiffened.
