“Are you sure it will work?”
Tim’s chin bobbed up and down enthusiastically.
A bit too enthusiastically. It looked suspiciously like an I’m-clueless-but-want-to-pretend-I’m-not kind of nod.
Benny frowned. He had a bad feeling about the whole plan. “I still think we should have brought a proper pan.”
“Nah,” Tim waved his hand and pointed to the ball of molten orange glaring at them from the horizon. The light shimmered. “They said it was going to be hot enough to fry eggs.”
“In the carton? Don’t you need to crack them first?”
Tim shrugged. “We can always make hard boiled ones.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
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