Increasing The Velocity of a Cheese Ball

                                                 

“It's not working.”  Dylan says, letting out a sigh and looking down at the track that is now glistening with a generous coating of non-stick spray.

Ray flicks at the cheese ball harder than the last time.  The ball travels the same distance, bouncing along the track quickly at first and then rapidly slowing to a stop.

“Is it absorbing the spray?  The ball might be getting weighed down.”   Peter says from his position standing behind his younger brother who is seated on the floor next to Ray and the track.

“Dudes, something isn't right.  It's not right at all.”

“Maybe it's the track.”  Peter suggests.

“It needs more lubricant.”  Dylan says, standing up, he runs into the kitchen and returns with a large bottle of vegetable oil.   “It needs to be slick.”

“No Dylan.”   Peter says.  “That will make a big mess.”

“Not in the bathtub.”  Dylan says.

“The cheese ball will get too wet.”  Peter argues.

“Don't turn on the water.”   Dylan explains slowly, rolling his eyes at Ray.

“Duude, it's okay.  Some people just don't get science.”   Ray responds.

“If you'll excuse my interruption.”  Diomedes says from his position on the far side of the room, all eyes look up.  “It could be the uneven textures of both the cheese ball and the synthetic pathway you have been propelling it along that is currently impeding your merrymaking.”

“It's a cheese ball.  It's round.”   Ray and Dylan respond in unison.

“Your ball may be circular but because it is a food item that crumbles easily and is designed to hold a fine cheese powder to it, the cheese ball lacks the smooth surface necessary to run along the pathway at the velocity you require.”

“He's right.”  Peter says holding up the plastic ball Ray and Dylan had removed from the plastic track.  “This ball is smoother”.

“Let's make the ball smoother.”  Ray says.

“I know, let's sand it.”  Dylan says.  “I'll be right back.”  The tow headed boy beams disappearing into the bathroom, returning with an emery board.   Dylan runs to his abandoned bag of cheese balls for a visual aid.   “Ray, I thought we could do this.”  He holds up the emery board in one hand and a cheese ball in the other, he starts sanding raining food particles on the floor.  “It's working.”  The boy exclaims and keeps sanding with more energy than before, the particles growing in size until the ball crumbles apart.

“Nice try.”  Ray says.

“Why not just use this ball?”  Peter asks holding up the ball the track came with.

“Because it's not the right ball.”  Ray says.  He removes the cheese ball from the track and holds it up. “This is a cheese ball. It's round and crunchy, cheesy; but because it's round you can still play with it.   A perfect food.”  He puts the cheese ball into his mouth and eats it.

“You do know that the track the cheese ball was sitting in was also used for this ball.”  Peter holds up the plastic ball.   “A ball Dobby played with by pushing it with his foot.”

Ray keeps eating.

“The same foot that stands in his litter box and covers up his poop.”

“Gross.” Ray says.

Peter nods in agreement.

“I should re-think the twenty second rule.”

“Do you mean the two second rule?”  Peter asks.

“If food falls on the floor if you pick it up in twenty seconds it's okay?”  Ray asks.

“It's two seconds.”

“Two?”

“Yes, two.”

“Duuuude.  So what are the guidelines for food that's gotten, furry?”

“Don't eat it.”  Peter says.

“Ever?”  Ray asks.

Peter shakes his head.

“This day just keeps getting worse.”  Ray says shaking his head, he accepts the plastic ball from Peter and puts it back on the track.  Reaching down he pushes the ball with his fingers and it takes off whizzing along.

“The cheese ball wasn't smooth.”  Peter says.

“Velocity.”   Diomedes points out.

“Dude, it's not the same.”  Ray replies.  He pushes the ball along each time it begins to slow, yawning periodically.  “I think I'll just go back to the bowl.”  Ray returns to his dish of cheese balls with a look of defeat.

“Dobby?”   Writer Lady calls hopefully the moment she enters the Bonus room. “Dobby kitty, where are you?  It's me.   It's mommy.”  Turning to leave she finds herself face to face with Tinkletoes.  “He's not back yet.”

“Did you check back there?”  Tinkletoes asks, nodding towards the darkest corner of the room.

“The far corner, by the sewing machine?”

“Yeah.”

“He doesn't like it back there.   If he's not sitting on the dresser and looking out the window Dobby doesn't come in here.  If you'll excuse me...”

“Don't animals crawl into dark places when they're hurting or scared?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“Dobby scared?  If he was hurt he would have come to find you.”  Writer Lady points out.  “To show off his war wound.”

“Yeah I guess he would have.”  Tinkletoes agrees.   “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“Shhhh....” Tinkletoes says holding one hand up, gesturing for Writer Lady to be quiet, he turns his head at an angle paying close attention.

There is a thumping noise and then the sound of glass breaking in the living room.   Reaching out for each other's hand both Writer Lady and Tinkletoes hurry through the darkened Bonus Room and back to main house to find out what's happened.  Writer Lady slips and falls meeting the floor with her own resounding thump nearly taking Tinkletoes down with her.  He quickly rights himself and turns on the lights.

“Are you okay?”  He asks.

“Yes.   I must have slipped, but on what?”  Writer Lady turns her head to find the perpetrator spread out on the floor, her feet, clothes, and hand.

“What is that?”  Tinkletoes asks.

Writer Lady lifts the dirty hand to her face,  “It's poop!  Dragon poop.  I think it was Diomedes, it keeps changing colors.   Diomedes is so polite, why didn't he tell me he made a mess?”

“Face it Mom making poop is something few people want to broadcast.”  Dobby says entering the room from the utility closet.

“DOBBY!”   Writer Lady calls.  With one swift movement she reaches out and scoops the ginger tabby into her arms.