The flock tumbled out of the door, coughing, and landed at my feet. I hopped back, dropping the bags of groceries I had gone and bought as a bright green gas cloud billowed out the door in front of me. My survival instincts told me to get everyone away from there. I grabbed them and dragged them away until they recovered enough to get up. "What was it? Gas attack? Smoke grenade? Cooking gone wrong?" I asked, on the verge of panic. "Option one and three," Angel croaked out. "It was my fault! And I'm proud of it!" Gazzy crowed. "Bad enough you're doing explosives, now gas gren—" I started reprimanding. "Nope! It wasn't a grenade! It was I!" "I get it, you did it, but from now on, no more smoke grena—" "It wasn't a smoke grenade!" Fang interrupted. "We had beans for dinner!" It took me a minute to realize what Fang meant. "GAZZY! NO MORE FOOD THAT MAKES YOU FART!"