Writing Prompt

Meadowbrook was a sleepy little town nestled in the rolling hills of the countryside. With a population that barely reached 500, nothing much ever happened there. The most exciting event of the week was usually a debate over who made the best apple pie for the annual harvest festival. Life moved at a leisurely pace, and the people liked it that way. But beneath the surface of calm, a group of elderly residents had decided to add a little spice to their days.

The group called themselves "The Meadowbrook Mavens," a name they thought was quite clever. They met every Tuesday afternoon at the local diner, "Daisy's Delights," for a slice of pie and a cup of coffee. The Mavens consisted of four spirited seniors: Martha, a former schoolteacher with a knack for organizing things; Earl, a retired mechanic who loved to tinker; Gladys, who had once been a champion baton twirler; and Frank, the only one who still drove, albeit rather slowly.

It all began on a particularly uneventful Tuesday when Martha, tired of discussing the weather and the latest gossip, suddenly declared, "We need some excitement around here!"

Earl looked up from his pie, curiosity piqued. "What kind of excitement are you talking about, Martha?"

"Oh, I don’t know," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Something to shake up the routine. We’re not getting any younger, you know."

Gladys, who was always up for fun, clapped her hands. "I agree! Let’s do something unexpected. Remember how we used to play pranks when we were kids? Why not do that now?"

And so, with a unanimous nod, the Mavens decided they would pull a prank on the townsfolk. Nothing too serious, of course—just a harmless bit of fun to liven things up.

Their first target was the Meadowbrook Post Office. It was the perfect spot, always bustling with people picking up mail or chatting with the postmaster, Henry. The Mavens had noticed that Henry had a fondness for organization; everything had its place, and heaven forbid anything be out of order.

The plan was simple. Earl would use his mechanical skills to rig the post office bell to ring every time someone opened the door, not just once, but repeatedly, until the door was closed again. The next morning, the Mavens took their positions on a nearby bench, pretending to be deep in conversation, but secretly watching the chaos unfold.

Sure enough, as people entered the post office, the bell began to ring. And it didn’t stop. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Confused, folks held the door open longer, trying to figure out what was wrong, which only made the bell ring faster. Inside, Henry’s face turned redder with every ding. He rushed over to the door, waving his hands, trying to shoo people in or out quickly.

The Mavens chuckled behind their newspapers. The bell continued its relentless ringing until Earl, under the guise of offering help, "fixed" the bell after lunch. The Mavens laughed about the prank for days, delighted by how something so simple could cause such a stir.

Encouraged by their success, the Mavens decided to up the ante. Their next target was the town square’s fountain. Every year, the fountain was dyed blue for the Meadowbrook Winter Festival, but the Mavens thought it would be much funnier if it turned green, and not just any green—an eye-catching neon green.

One night, under the cover of darkness, Frank drove the Mavens to the square. Gladys, nimble even in her golden years, scaled the edge of the fountain and dumped in several bottles of green dye. They waited, stifling their giggles, as the water began to swirl a vivid shade of neon green.

The next morning, the townspeople were baffled. Some whispered about aliens, others joked it was the town's way of going green. The local newspaper even ran a headline: "Meadowbrook Fountain Mystery: Who’s the Green Thumb?"

The Mavens were thrilled by their success and became emboldened with each prank. They short-sheeted beds at the local inn, replaced the audio tapes at the library with recordings of them snoring, and filled the mayor’s office with balloons. None of their tricks were harmful, just harmless fun that left the townspeople scratching their heads and laughing.

The antics went on for weeks, each more creative than the last. The town was buzzing with excitement, and it seemed everyone had a theory about who was behind the pranks. Some suspected teenagers, others thought it might be the work of some mischievous tourists.

But eventually, their luck ran out. It happened at Daisy's Delights, where it had all begun. The Mavens, emboldened by their success, decided to replace all the sugar in the sugar dispensers with salt. They waited with glee as customers poured salt into their coffee, sputtering and coughing.

But Daisy, who was sharp as a tack despite her age, noticed the four old friends chuckling in the corner. She had seen the same glint in their eyes that she used to have when she was up to no good. She put two and two together.

Daisy quietly approached their table and, with a smile, said, "Alright, you four. Spill the beans. We all know it’s you behind all these pranks."

The Mavens looked at each other, then at Daisy, and burst into laughter. There was no denying it now. They had been caught.

But instead of scolding them, Daisy patted Earl on the back. "You’ve given this town more laughs in the past month than we've had in years. I say, keep it up, but maybe lay off the salt next time."

From then on, the Mavens became local celebrities, known as Meadowbrook's official pranksters. Their antics continued, but with Daisy’s blessing, they became even more elaborate. The townsfolk came to anticipate the Mavens' next move, always wondering what would happen next.

And so, in the sleepy little town of Meadowbrook, where nothing exciting ever happened, a group of elderly pranksters brought a bit of chaos and a whole lot of joy, proving that you're never too old for a bit of mischief.

“ Ready mates? TODAY IS THE DAY WE ESCAPE THIS HORRID PRISON! “

Adolf shouts out.

“ Oh come on, don’t exaggerate it, we have taco Tuesdays! “

“ Don’t ruin the moment, Elisabette. You know how he gets. “

Marissa croaks, squeezing her wooden cane.

“ Oh fine. But how do we escape then? “

“ I SHALL ENCHANT THEM WITH MY MAGIC FLUTE! “

As he says that, Adolf takes out a tiny pan flute from his pocket, and starts desperately blowing and spitting into the straws he glued together himself during arts and crafts. The two old women just looked at him confused.

“ SEE? Your enchanted! “

“ Sure… “ Elisabette answered.

Suddenly Ethel appeared round the corner with a cucumber in his hand, and walking as quick as his back would let him, he reached the group.

“ I have the perfect plan everyone! You know how cats are scared of cucumbers, right? “

“ What? “

Elisabette said.

“ Well, you know how the nurses hiss at us like cats if we don’t take our pills? So that must mean that like cats, they are also afraid of cucumbers! “

“ Ethel, that’s not how it works… “

But Elisabette once again gets interrupted by Adolf, who is still spitting in his pan flute. Suddenly Marissa snatches it out of his hand and shouts,

“ Adolf, THE PAN FLUTE IS NOT GOING TO WORK! ETHEL, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO GIVE THE NURSES THE CUCUMBER?! ETHEL!!!! COME BACK!! “

They all climb onto there wheel chairs and race after him, but they notice he does not have one cucumber, he had hidden another five in his pocket. And he was waving them at the nurses!

“ ETHEL IM GONNA KILL YOU!! “ Marissa screams furiously.

But in the end Ethel was right. Retirement home nurses really are afraid of cucumbers, just like lazy grumpy cats.

“Hey Pete did you hear that?”

Pete sighed. “Carl i swear if you farted i’ll kill you if i can grt out of this seat” Pete started shifting as if to find a good angle to push himself up.

“If i farted youd be dead by now” laughed Carl. “With great age come great power in the way of toxic waste”.

“Well spit it out then” Pete was definitely testy in his old age.

“Its a whole lot of nothin” a gentle breeze was all that could be heard. It was a beautiful day as the two friends sat on the porch in their rockers.

“Carl if you die tomorrow I may finally know peace” Carl exclaimed grumpily.

“Then who would you have fun with? Once upon a time they called us the Twin Rebel Rousers.” Carl energetically said as he fanned one arm out. “There wasnt a mother around that didnt tell their daughters to stay away from us”.

“Thanks to all that rousing i got a bum knee and im still banned from the bingo hall” Carl threw his hands up in frustration.

“I swear if you cry about that knee one more time im going to trip you. That was not my fault and you know it.” Carl started to lose his light banter. “60 years youve griped about that knee but didnt stop you from dancing at all the weddings.”

Wiping at his head Pete seemed to deflate. “Im tired Carl” he turned his head peering down the road as if searching for something. “Its just us now. The girls are gone and the kids have their own lives. The glow of life is over. “ finally resting his head in his hands.

Carl sat there dismayed at what he was hearing. Pete was like a shining star their whole life riding a course all the way through. He was moved like the wind as kids. He remembered how he stole Mrs Lucy’s fresh pie right the window. He flew down that drive dodging her pellet gun like the wind whispered the shots. The same man that threw him up to Pam’s window to sneak his first kiss. They did everything together. A life time of friendship but it was more than that to Carl. Pete was true family, from the joys of life to the burden of loss. He was there when we got the final news for Pam and when she took her final breath. To hear him finally being beaten was just too much for Carl.

Carl knew he needed to do something for his friend. A time to ride the breeze into a gale. Possibly their last dance. Leaping up surprising even his old body, he snapped a plan together.

“Alrighty Petey we gotta do something! I need you to run down to the grocer and get some confetti eggs for me” Carl buzzed with excitement.

Groaning Pete responded “You know i hate when you call me Petey, and why on Gods green earth do you need confetti eggs. Its doubtful the grandkids will come by anytime soon.”

Carl began to drag Pete out of the chair. Shooing him towards the cars. “Nevermind why i need them just go get them for me” Carl was not about to take no from Pete. Reluctantly he walked over and began the journey to town.

With his hands up high by his chest, Carl powerwalked to the shed. “I know its in here somewhere” thought Carl as he rummaged around the dusty relics. Toys and tools from multiple generations of kids. A rocking horse from the late 1800s that was Carl’s father’s as a kid. Ornate and beautiful from a generation come and gone. “Ah there she is” Carl carefully slid a case off the shelf and made his way to a work bench. Pulling the draw string for an overhead light Carl reverently stared at the cases occupent. The spud gun in all its glory. The cool kids thought it was fun to hit mailboxes with bats but we decided to take it to another level with a homemade potato launcher. Its how we became known as the neighborhood rebel rousers. A weight lifted off Carl as he stared at his memories. It was time to make a new one.

Carrying his gun case out like a trained sniper, Carl headed to get the last piece of the puzzle. He set the case down as he rolled back the cover to the second instrument of the rebel rousers. A sleek midnight blue 64 Thunderbolt with 435 horses of rebel. “Man if the boys could see her now” thought Carl. The weight returned as Carl thought of Tyler and Carter.

“Oh i know you dont think we can drive that thing anymore” exclaimed Pete. Carl jumped having been lost in memory. “That car has been on a no fly list for 50 some odd years. Surprised shes still in such good shape.“ Pete set the bags on the hood as he walked around the car reverently. Smiling he poke his head in the back seat. “Whooo if the girls could see this thing now”.

Shaking his head Pete jingled the keys “lets ride partner”.

The men sat there anticipating the engine firing. With a whoosh of power the men began to vibrate with energy as the car plopped away, as if it was urging them to ride again. Life filled the men as the fist bumped. Simultaneously cranking the windows down to embrace the wind. Carl reached back and handed Pete the case. Grinning Pete knew exactly what Carl had in mind. “Crazy old fool” said Pete as he loaded the gun with an egg.

With a whoop Carl brought the car to life. Throwing rocks as they raced down the drive. The back end of the Thunderbolt slid out as they hit the road. Pete had his arm braced in the window with a grin from ear to ear. Racing to town like two teenagers the men discussed the plan of attack. It was simple, shoot eggs at all the kids houses and any old nemesis homes for nostalgia sake. Carl practiced on trees to get some practice.

On the outskirts of town the old men turned boys began the rousing. Confetti burst into doors and windows aplenty. Even Mrs Lucy’s old mailbox wasnt safe from them. They delt more alive than they had in years. Laughing and hollering like they were teenagers again. Some of the grandkids got a show as they came peeling down the street while they playing in the yard. Theirs cheers only egged them on further. Unfortunately it wasnt long till they saw red and blue in the window. “5 bucks says Sophia called Blake on us” said Carl. Blake was Pete’s oldest grandson and was a police officer.

“Pull over now you two” came a familiar voice. Carl began to slow down.

“Let me show that boy what grandpa used to be like. Before Carl could do anything Pete leaned out the window with the laucher. Swerving while trying to keep one hand on Pete’s belt, Carl roared with laughter. He could see the explosion of confetti in the rearview as he pulled him back in.

“Now thats what im talking about Petey!” Yelled Carl. Sliding the car around onto Main Street the men got a good look at their hometown. Racing down the street grinning at the mayhem they caused. Carl looked at his best friend and smiled. As they raced put of town the two relaxed and just enjoyed the ride. Wistfully Carl looked in the backseat from the rearview. Visualize the brothers that were no longer with them. He could see Tyler with his glasses and long flowing hair. If only he hadnt gone to war he may still be with them now. Glancing over he could see small Carter with his freckled face. He was never the same after his mom passed away. Time had a way with taking loved ones away but the memories stayed with them.

“The boys would be proud of us aye Petey” said Carl.

“Oh they’d be dam proud” said Pete as he smiled at his friend.

We retired here 15 years ago, thinking that we were dwindled down and our golden years, and that we would get calmer and more peaceful and settle into life.

We didn’t. This town is so boring. It’s killing me.

My husband and I are retired federal marshals. We didn’t expect for everyone from the office to just forget about us after I retired, and he retired, but that was a long time ago. We still remember everything. The old skills come back.

The line between cop and criminal disappears after awhile. What you’re left with, after everyone forgets you, and you get so old that no one even looks at you anymore, is a lifetime of experience and nothing to do with it.

I know exactly how to steal. You can see where the cameras point when you go in the store, and go up to the counter. Wherever the blind spots are, the merchandise is free. I can stuff a lot of costume jewelry and liquor into my old lady bag. I don’t even do anything with it. I just dump it in my closet, behind the cleaning supplies.

Then I started setting fires. Just small ones, outdoor trash cans. It takes the edge off. I bring around my big purse. It has lighter fluid and three lighters, and a book matches. When people aren’t paying attention to me, I like to go to a trashcan, spray it with lighter fluid, and drop in a match. It gets attention real quick.

When I got done with the the petty theft and the fires, I started planning bigger. What would it take to kill someone? No one I know, of course. That’s how they track you.

My husband would never notice. He doesn’t put in his hearing aids. He doesn’t talk to me or look at me. I try talking to him about the good old days, but it’s like talking to a brick wall.

So I started making my way up and down the street every day, looking for targets. I couldn’t do it to a kid, or a mother. I’m not that cold hearted. But these young guys, the loudmouth obnoxious punks… I wouldn’t have a problem with it.

There’s a busy intersection near the bus stop where a lot of the local hooligans gather. I watched them from the bench down the street, and when they came my way, I approached them with my walker. It’s the one walking closest to the street I tripped with front of my walker, and he fell right into traffic. There were horns and a crush of glass and metal, followed by screams and shouting. I kept making my way down the street, chuckling to myself.

I pulled this off three or four more times before I got caught. I came home to flashing red and blue sirens in my driveway. My husband put the pieces together. Still a cop, after all these years.

I’m pretty excited for the trial. I have all my answers planned out already. This will be my turn in the spotlight.

As you get older, you get more invisible. Your life fades into the background noise of your children, followed by their children, and suddenly before you know it, you become a faint beat that occurs once per stanza in a four minute song.

I’m only 60 years old, which I know isn’t nearly as old as I think it is, but it isn’t exactly young either. I’m widowed. I live alone. My days roll by relatively unchanged, like your favorite comfort Disney movie, not particularly exceptional nor excruciating, but always with the same opening and closing credits.

Bored of my regular routine, I set out to do something. Something different. Unexpected and consequential. I began my morning as I always did, but when I went to pour my black coffee from the kettle, I paused before swiveling back around the direction I came from and found myself at my back door. I slid on my “going out” sandals, unhooked the key from the hook, and closed the front door behind me, taking care to lock up, you never know in small towns like mine.

I set out down the chalk-drawn sidewalk and slowly made my way up Elizabeth’s front porch. Elizabeth’s porch was the most pristine on the entire block. Somehow it’s white color had managed to remain bright throughout years of rainy springs and there hadn’t been a box planter unattended to since the day she moved in. Pretty pink, purple, and yellow flowers were in a soft bloom, fresh droplets of thrist quenching water, still sat upon their petals. Elizabeth must have just water them. I braced myself for the loud bang that followed when I clanged her door with the gold door handle. I jumped at the sound, as I imagine she had too, as she wasn’t expecting me.

“Meg? Did you and I have plans this mornin?” Elizabeth smiled as she removed her tulip-printed garden gloves.

I found myself entering Elizabeth’s home and removing my sandals before answering her question, “God did. For us to be alive and to live every last moment to the full of it.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in confusion at first, but as the silenece bore on, she understood, “I suppose life is too short for plans.”

“And to live it the same way each day.”

We all knew our village was small, but we did not realize how small. My eentire life in this village everyone has known everyone. We never lock our doors or cars. We never had crime before. Parents did not worry about thier kids in our little village. Once in a way a traveler would make a wrong turn on the way to the coast. The traveler would stumble into our small village and not be sure what to do. They would stay the night and the next day continue on thier way.

Today was different.All the parents were talking quietly so us kids could not really hear. They kept looking up the road out of the village. We had not had a traveler in the village in almost three months as of today. Us kids were trying to figure out whay the parents were so worried. The parents would stop talking if us kids can to close.

The next day, parents still were whispering to each other. Us kids starting trying to figure things out. One child found out there were weird things happening. The parents did not know what was causing the mischief. My parents told me to stay with my grandmother while they went to the village meeting. My friends and I just waited until grandma was taking her nap. We left the house to go to the meeting. Parents were yelling at one another saying how the mischief was getting worse. They had found things missing over night. Our village all slept about the same time.

Parents started locking the house door when we went to bed just to find the door unlocked when we woke up every morning. The parents did not like that idea. Parents worried for us kids in the vilage. If the door got unlocked during the night the door was unlocked from the inside of the home. This mean some one was leaving the house during the night. The parents thought it was us kids. We all knew it was not us, because we did not eve not listen to our parents. Parents scared each one of us.

Mischief was happening thought the week. First just the doors were being unlocked. Next parents started to realie that the horse corrals were unlocked now. Each morning e would wake up to all the horses in the village center. Lucky the horses did not run away. The parents decided to set up a watch rotation to figure out the mischief that is happeneing in the village.

Ethel woke up and felt dangerous. Well, as dangerous as an 88 year old woman can feel. The legs didn’t quite work the way she wanted them to anymore, nor did the back. But she was insanely good at scrabble. And she was really good at trash talking Terry because Terry was truly awful at the game. She slowly got up out of bed and got ready for the day. Today was going to be an exciting day, she could just feel it in her old brittle bones. She finally made it out of the house an hour later to (slowly) walk over to the town’s only cafe that happened to be at the end of the block where she lived. It was just like any other Thursday morning, meeting with the old geezer crew of the small town in which they lived. But she could feel that this wouldn’t be like just any other Thursday, she just wasn’t sure why yet. She walked in and waved to Darren, the barista. “The usual, Ethel?” he said as he started prepping the drink he knew that Ethel would want. “You’re a saint,” Ethel said as she sat down at the table that Mark and Terry already occupied. Before she could speak a word to the table, Terry said, “Ethel, it is wonderful to see you. Did you wake up this morning feeling extra mischievous?” Ethel’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me that you are feeling the same?” Mark looked at Ethel with a twinkle in his eye. “The very same, Ethel. Once Bruce gets here, we need to have a very serious discussion about what we should do today. But I would love nothing more than to have a fun day today.” The door bell jingled and Bruce rolled in. At the same time, Darren brought over Ethel’s drip coffee with a splash of half and half. She smiled and thanked him. Bruce arrived at the table with a dangerous look in his eyes. Ethel thought that it was just destiny that they all woke up feeling the same way. “So are we causing some mayhem today or what?” said Bruce. “Let’s hear everyone’s best prank ideas. I’ll go first. We need walkie-talkies. We hide one in the ceiling and then throughout the day we meow into it so anyone who is in here at the time thinks that there’s a cat hidden somewhere.” Ethel looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this Bruce, but none of us have any chance in reaching a ceiling, especially not you with those worthless legs of yours,” she looked purposefully at his wheelchair. “We’d have to call in an assist for that one. My idea: we swap out all of the stock photos in picture frames in the general store with pictures of Ronald Reagan.” “Great idea, Ethel. Great idea. How about we buy a bunch of plastic cockroaches and scatter them around the block?” said Mark. They all nod in appreciation of the idea. Terry all of a sudden looked mutinous and they all leaned in to hear what her idea was. “Hear me out, we put a cucumber in random people’s mailboxes.” They all burst out laughing. Ethel didn’t remember the last time that she felt so giddy and bursting with anticipation. She felt like a young kid again, playing pranks on her siblings. It didn’t matter if anyone else found their prank funny, she was perfectly content.

The small group of five set out at dawn, ready to get their day started. The leader of the group, Vidar, leads them to the mess hall to greet the cooks. The five elders walk slowly, their pace never breaking. Their black robes touch the ground, giving the appearence of floating in the fog. “Hello Dagfinn,” Vidar greets the main cook. The scarred man nods his head at the elder, turning back to his cooking. The group sits down at their favorite table, and start to talk. “You know what I’m tired of?” One of the women, Unnr, speaks up. The groups turns to her, questioning looks on their faces. “Well? What is it,” Reidun asks, the other woman of the group. “You know how those kids mess with us? What if we were to do it to them?” Unnr asks, looking into the distance. Oyvind starts to laugh and tears sparkle down into his greying beard. “And how do you plan on doing that?” His deep voice booms. Unnr shrugs her shoulders and looks to the final man at the table. The Mastermind. Alvis studies his hands, lost in thought. “We could send them on a goose chase.” He speaks softly. Vidar hums in agreement. “We could send them on a hunt for a Draugr,” Vidar laughs. “Tell them old Hroarr was buried with an ancient spear in his grasp, and only the chosen one can retrieve it. And don’t tell them who is chosen.”
The others start to laugh and agree. The mess hall had started to fill up, so the quintet leaves to find their target of kids. They find four brothers after walking a ways, and head straight towards them. “Eirunn!” Reidun calls to the oldest. The blonde boy runs up and greets the five friends. His brothers run behind him, also greeting them. “We have a quest for you brothers,” Oyvind laughs, clapping the third son, Ebbe, on the shoulder. All four boys straighten up. “What is this quest?” Brynjar, the youngest, asks. Vidar clears his throat. “Do you remember dear old Hroarr?” He croaks. The boys nod their heads, Brynjar taking a second longer. “Well, he was known as one of the best hunters in this village. It is said that he was buried with his spear, and only a chosen son of the same village can take the spear from his grave.” Vidar tells the boys. Unnr hops in next. “And the one who gets the spear from the cold dead hands of Hroarr will be the best hunter.” The boys eyes sparkle with excitment, the thought of being the best hunter warming them. “Where was he buried?” The second son, Sven, questions. The five elders look at each other, not thinking the joke would go this far. Alvis gets an idea, and smiles slowly before turning back to the four awaiting boys. “Go down the deer trail, past Jagged Rock and turn left at the Waiting Lady. There, you should see a lone thorn bush. He was buried right there.” The four boys nod and start to run off, Brynjar turning around. “Thank you for this oppertunity,” he beams at them, going to join his brothers. Once the four boys were out of sight, all five of the friends burst into laughter, wondering how long it would take the boys to realize they had been tricked.

"You guys wanna go for a walk?" SQ's creaky old voice asks.

The three other old grandmas turn around slowly and smile crookedly.

"I don't think that would be a problem." JATG's voice breaks and she coughs.

Suddenly, some kids rush by and one accidentally hits JATG's leg.

"Ye old whippersnappers!" She shouts after them, raising her cane furiously.

SQ's body shook as she laughed. Fluffy just stood silent with lips pursed trying not to laugh.

"I feel like burning this building down." JATG croaked.

SQ stopped laughing and a smile spread across her face from ear to ear.

It didn't end well. SQ took JATG's joke seriously and lit a couch on fire. Soon, it spread everywhere.

And, as u would prob expect, no one survived.

Srry, didn't add everyone Hope u enjoyed anyway and had a good laugh💚 I certainly did writing this

“ Dont leave us, grandma and grandpa!” The Likeio family hollered in sync. Grampa suddenly got up, grandma following. “ Im bored, sweetie.” He grumbled. “ Lets be mischevious, eh?” She would giggle. “ I feel as if im in my youth! Lets go start trouble, my dear! This town is far too boring, rules, rules—“ “ —Rules!” Grandma finished for him. And so they went, hand in hand, skipping through town. “ See that old well? Mother and father never allowed me to grab water from it. Perhaps I’ll get some.” Grandma took a bucket of water, filled it to its fullest in the well, and threw the full bucket onto her parents old pooch. “ Never liked that dog either. Vicious!” Grandpa laughed aloud, his eyes bright with the light of youth. “ See that old bull? It always taunted my poor sweet pet chicken, nessie. Perhaps i’ll do something about that.” He took a scooter, and took it to his old work bench. He began to form it into a device. The scooters body would kick repeatedly, never stopping. It would only ever stop if the person stopped walking or running, but this was made for no PERSON . . . The bull was sadly asleep, its fate yet to come. Grandpa attached the device to the bull. When the mean old bull awoke, it let out a painful bleat, running, but to no avail, the pain remained steady as the bull only triggered further of the device. “ Oh, Grandpa! You and your tricks!” Grandma laughed. “ I’ll take the device off by noon, not even that bull deserves that.” Grandpa admitted. Grandma only smiled, hugging grandpa. Then, they dissapeared together. Fading slowly, but their love still in the air. Their memory was never forgotten, for they had passed away. They had indeed left earth together, causing mischeif that they would laugh over for a lifetime. They were good people, in fact, GREAT people. And, oh, the bull had had the device taken off by his farmer.