The antique mirror's pieces sparkled on the floor. Sensei was going to be furious again.
It always ended like this: a heated argument about something, words spitting, fists eventually flying, and one (or more, depending on severe the fight) of the lair's objects crashing to the floor or against the wall and onto the floor. One brother always left. The other stayed behind to clean up the mess.
What a mess, what a mess, and at what part of the fight did it become so violent? Was it his own words or his brother's? The brother who let his emotions boil to a point of explosion? Or the brother who let his emotions sink? There is a problem and no one knows how to solve it so it's taken one day at a time.
Carefully, the pieces were handled and disposed. There was almost an art to picking up the mess now, like it was automated and nothing stopped him until the mess was cleaned. Fewer and fewer times has Donny volunteered to help anymore and the laughter has stopped coming from Mikey. Everyone is tired of it but how does he solve the matter without completely surrendering? Will it just continue passing onwards?
A tiny mew sung by his right ear. He tried shooing the kitty away before its paw was sliced by the glass but Klunk persisted to stick around, mewing each time a movement was made. Tired of fighting, he surrendered to the feline, picking it up, and stroking the muddy fur. It was time for a bath and not a Mikey in sight, naturally.
The duties never ceased but at least this one he could enjoy.