“So, a thick bubble bath is not a bad idea, Milton – the problem is that when you come up with a mess like this when all I told you to do was use the soap in the context of cleaning up is basically to bring me a good idea like a piece of good bread underneath an open-faced garbage sandwich.”
“Dad … ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!”
“I figure you'll remember that one, Milton, and you will be getting plenty of time to sit in your room and think about it when we finish getting this and you cleaned up.”
Sgt. Vincent Trent, ever calm and caring to his children although always very real, was cleaning up Milton's recipe for thick bubble bath that he got off the Internet.
“How do they even think of this stuff?” Mrs. Melissa Trent said to the sergeant's mother, Mrs. Gladys Jubilee Trent, as they watched the video Milton had seen. “Dish soap, mints, and soda?”
Mrs. Jubilee Trent smiled.
“You live in a different world, Melissa,” she said. “We're not even discussing how blessed you are that Milton, also my grandson, is just looking to make a new product for the market instead of all the ballistic things.”
“What?” Mrs. Trent said.
“This recipe is in one of the Jubilee books of the late 20th century for things to do from the corner store,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said, “but, see, Milton is gentle like both his father and you. Just a sticky, soapy mess and him getting some time to read and figure out what to get into next.”
“When you put it like that,” Mrs. Trent said.
“You might still want to tighten up the parental controls on Velma's phone, though,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “You and Vincent are doing a great job keeping straight evil away from your children, but never underestimate how an inventive mind is a thick bubble wrap workshop, running wild in the Internet streets.”
