Ahh, it's that time of the year once more,
When rain fills basements, floods the floor.
And children trapped with nowhere to flee,
Are swept away so tragically.
Well, fortunately, Tobey isn't in a basement.
Unfortunately, he's grounded in his room—and bored out of his mind.
Now, you might be wondering… what did he do this time?
Let me tell you—
"He cut a cockroach, just for fun,
Almost sent his mom to the sun.
Chased the cat and dog with a knife,
Lost his tool? He sharpened a stone—real life!"
So now, he's locked away like a prisoner, with no access to the utilities. His dad, home due to the red alert, is working like his life depends on it.
—Sigh—
"I'm getting bored… I've read all the books in my room. Now what?"
"I don't know… I wish I had access to Dad's library."
He paused, deep in thought.
"…Well. I think it's time to break out of prison and get some groceries."
Tobey grabbed a pen and paper, ready to make his ultimate grocery list.
Tobey's Grocery Mission Plan:
A set of pens from Dad's workroom — black, blue, green, yellow, white.
Okay, normal. Nothing suspicious.
A pencil, eraser, a blank book, some books for reading, highlighter.
Just kid stuff. Still normal.
Some snacks from the kitchen, lemon-scented freshener, energy drin—
Woah woah woah! Kid, you're five! No energy drinks!
…Oh. He meant fruit juice. Okay, moving on.
Rope from backyard.
Knew it. But what for…?
Clothes-hanging clips.
What?
Heavy object.
Excuse me?
Glass container, X9000 floor cleaner, paint remover, and his secret liquid hiding somewhere.
Oh no. Oh no no no no no.
"My tool hidden by Mom, and it's raining outside so… frog, maybe?"
Tobey whispered to himself like he was talking to a spy agency.
"Mission start. First step—escape. But how?"
He paced, mind racing. Rain pounded against the window like war drums. Outside, water streamed down in sheets, drowning the world in gray.
He smirked.
"Let's go extreme."
Tobey grabbed six bedsheets and twisted them into a makeshift rope.
He tightened every knot—double, triple—just to be sure. His fingers trembled, whether from excitement or nerves, he didn't know.
Outside, a drainage pipe ran down the side of the house, slick with rainwater.
"That'll do."
He tied one end of the rope around his waist, the other to the wardrobe.
A deep breath.
His heart pounded.
He swung one leg over the window ledge. Cold air slammed into him. His breath hitched. His grip tightened. The bedsheets creaked under his weight.
He began to descend—slowly. Carefully. The wind howled past his ears. Rain stung his skin.
Step by step—
Down. Down. Down.
Then—
His foot slipped.
His stomach dropped. The pipe was no longer under his foot—nothing was.
For a split second, he was weightless.
Falling.
The world tilted, spinning.
His hands shot out—grasping, clawing—
Impact!
Fingers slammed onto the pipe. He gripped tight, rain making everything slick. His arms screamed. Above, the wardrobe creaked as the rope strained.
The rain made his grip useless.
He slid—fast.
"No no no no—!"
His body picked up speed, too fast, too slick—until—
THUMP!
He hit the ground. Hard.
Mud splashed up his legs. He blinked, breath heavy, adrenaline hammering in his veins.
For a second, he just lay there. Staring up at the sky. Rain pelting his face.
"That… was a close call. Oh god. Now—let's go to the backyard."
Tobey grinned, heart still racing like he hadn't just played Russian roulette with gravity.
As he made his way toward the backyard, his foot caught on a rock—
THUD!
Face first into the dirt.
This… this is what happens to bad kids.
"Ohh! My clothes got all dirty. I need to change this somehow… Let's go get my rope first."
Groaning, brushing off mud.
As he stepped into the backyard, something caught his eye.
A frog.
Sitting motionless in the grass, rain dripping down its little face like a soldier awaiting orders.
"I'll get you later… after I find a container."
Tobey grinned, whispering like a mad scientist.
He walked toward the shed to grab his rope, reached for the handle—
Clunk.
Locked.
He crossed his arms, sighing.
"Great. Now I need the shed key. Like, what the hell is in there that they need to lock it?"
He glanced toward the house, thinking.
"Alright… I need to grab the key from the living room. But first, I need to know where my mother and father are—if possible."
Tobey rubbed his chin, analyzing.
"It's 8 AM… so Mom should be in the kitchen, and Dad would either be in his room or his workroom."
He nodded to himself, smirking like a seasoned spy.
"Alright, now that I know everyone's approximate position… let's infiltrate the house."
He crept toward the hallway door with all the stealth of a child who's done this before—
And stopped.
Clunk.
Locked.
Tobey blinked.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
"I thought I'd grab a pair of clothes on the way to the living room, but now I have no choice but to go in with wet and dirty clothes to get the key."
For those who don't know:
Tobey's house has fancy glass doors connecting the main backyard path to both the living room and the kitchen.
He turned, eyes narrow.
"Well, it's time to go nud—"
…
At this point, I'm not even surprised.
This kid is not in his right mind.
Why the hell is he going nude?
Oh no. Oh no no no—I see what's happening here.
If he walks in with dirty clothes, his mom will go full demon mode.
And his dad? Dragged down with him.
Ah. So that's why.
He's not a menace.
He's a strategist.
A misunderstood genius.
"I should leave my underwear on. Don't want the neighbor's girl to see me naked."
He nodded to himself, solemn.
…Well. At least he has some standards.
"I should let these clothes hang out in the rain. They'll get somewhat clean."
He turned toward the rope they use as a clothes hanger…
And froze.
He stared at the rope.
Dead serious.
Picturing what would happen if [Mother] found out it was missing.
"…I don't want to die."