Theme: Possible
Food: Ice cream
"If I'm going to be a bounty hunter, I need a weapon." Bridget said as an afterthought. "But how am I supposed to get a sword-- or hide it from mom and dad?"
Absently he played with his yoyo, thinking about his weapon of choice. A knock dragged him from his thoughts. "Come in."
The door creaked open and his brother entered the room, then backed away, eyeing the yoyo.
"Eh?" Bridget followed his brother's gaze, then laughed uneasily. "I'll put it away." He tucked it in the lacy pillow case. Only then did his brother venture deeper in his room.
Bridget wondered how long it had been. Six years ago was when his brother's fear of yoyos, started as well as Bridget's love for the classic toy. Their parents gave them each a yoyo. Bridget's red, his brother's was blue.
The eldest was instantly put off by the toy, unable to bring it back up, or in most cases, ended up with fingers tangled up in string. In his disdain, he looked to Bridget, hoping it wasn't just him, only to be thoroughly jealous.
Two months after their gift they were at a carnival, waiting in line. Bridget was passing the boredom away with his yoyo. His brother seethed as he loop-de-looped, rocked the cradle, and then--
"Ow!"
"I'm sorry! Are you okay?"
--went around the world.
Bridget's brother had told him he clearly remembered the first time it happened because, Bridget had run off and came back with a green popsicle and pressed it against his forehead.
It continued to happen over the years: sixteen times Bridget estimated, one hundred times his brother claimed. The accidents persisted until his brother refused to be in the same room with Bridget and a yoyo.
Bridget blinked, snapping out of his reminiscing thoughts. "Sorry! I have to do something!" He brushed past the other boy and ran down the stairs before he forgot the idea.
The following day, his brother discovered Bridget in the backyard, swinging the yoyo at a row of cans like one does practicing with a gun. He moved along, even if he wanted to ask.