Cecil was watching Bob lift weights in the prison yard.
"I always assumed that this sort of activity would be beneath you," he remarked with a smirk.
"It is a rather useful skill in this environment," Bob said flatly. "One that you might do well to learn, in the event that I'm not around to protect you."
Cecil bristled. "I don't need your protection!"
That made Bob sneer. "If not for me, you wouldn't have survived this hellhole any more than you would have survived being on Krusty's show. You lack the physical strength, as well as a supple enough body, to help withstand beatings and slapstick humiliation."
"I'm not weak," Cecil seethed.
"Says the one who was always skipping physical education classes," said Bob, rolling his eyes.
"I could lift those weights if I wanted to," said Cecil.
"I would love to see you try," Bob said coolly.
"I shall!" Cecil declared. "Move out of the way, Bob!"
"Famous last words," Bob muttered as he stood up and stepped aside.
That night, Bob stared down at Cecil's vacant bunk, having been proved right about his brother's lack of physical strength. Cecil wouldn't be out of the prison hospital for some time, so for once, Bob would have some alone time. He would do his best to savor it.
Happy birthday to me, Bob thought, chuckling darkly and opening a book.