“OK, little dude.” Joey set her fluffy on the grass in the backyard. “Sit here. You gotta wear your glasses if you wanna look at the eclipse. Got it?”
“Yus, Mummah!” Stevie Fartbox reared and clopped his feet on the ground. “Stebie Fawtboxie see bestest ecwipsie!” He turned in a circle, joyous toots spurting from his namesake. “Nao, Mummah?”
Joey checked her phone. “Yep, we have two minutes to totality. Hold still.”
Stevie Fartbox sat on his namesake and held his breath. Mummah bit her lip as she slid a set of Hasbio eclipse glasses on Stevie Fartbox’s snoot—
“SCREEEEEE! DAWKIE! TOO DAWKIE, MUMMAH!”
“Don’t—”
Stevie Fartbox sped away from the darkness, the darkest darkness he had ever known. Mummah’s footsteps followed. “Stev—”
CLANG
The steel side of the shed echoed through Stevie Fartbox’s head. The only thing he heard as he hit the grass was Mummah’s groan, and, “Dammit, Stevie! Not again. Oh, G-d, it stinks.”
(What can I say? Those glasses are dark.)
