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Timmy received three ampules for his birthday. He thought that they were meant for juggling, but his uncle told him that was not the case. Then he wondered if they might be for dessert, but his mother told him to be quiet. And when he stayed quiet, his sister accused him of sulking, so he started tap dancing to prove her wrong. "Chrikey" his grandfather said, and turned up the news - knocking one of the ampules onto the floor accidentally. When it burned a hole through the linoleum, Timmy was thrilled, but when it kept going and ate its way into the cement below, his uncle gave him the look.
He fainted dead away.
Cousin Quince 'tsked' and pretended it was uncle's gas getting the best of him as she gathered him up to bed.
Timmy was left alone.
The question was, were the other two the same?
It could be like those sampler four packs of chocolate where as soon as you decide you like a piece, you never get that flavor again. Then again, the boxed where they were all marshmallow frappes with jelly were a pain, too. He couldn't decide if he liked corrosive acid or not. With no one around to base his reaction on, it was taking him a while to find his authentic internal self.
An hour and a half later, after a carton of mint chocolate chip Haagen-Dazs, an episode of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" and a good cry, he found it.
Picking up one of the two remaining ampules and carefully storing one in each pocket, he carefully gathered up the two halfs of the opened ampule and carefully made his way out othe front door. Timmy knew of a bully down the street who might be interested in his science experiment. He was interrupted by that little pest Bobby, who was a whole year younger.
"What ya got? What ya got?" Bobby asked.
[Cont'd] "Butt juice and a booger sandwich," Timmy sneered, "Now beat it." But Bobby was bored and he looked up to his neighbor as 'the guy who's always up to something cool'. He started following Timmy on his bike.
"Go away, Slobby Bobby, you don't want to run into Tully the Bully, do you? Cuz that's where I'm going." Timmy glared at the kid threateningly. Bobby followed, anyway, almost tripping on his tongue.
Three crows perched on a picket fence halfway down the street. Locals had named them Sammy, Ray, and Morton. Bobby knew that there was something happening at Tully's house, because Morton never showed up unless Tully was in trouble.
Sammy and Ray hung around like yesterday's aftershave, but Morton was peripatetic. It had to be good to get him stuck to a wire. Maybe Tully had made someone eat dirt again.
Bobby went on with the questions, obviously not seeing the dangerous glint in Timmy's eye. "Really, what is it? Are you going to get him back? Why is he always so mean? Do you have any ice cream?" (This last bit he added because Timmy's Cousin Quince was famous for hoarding the better varieties of Haagen-Dazs.)
"Because he was named after Cicero!" Timmy snapped. He hated having to display his knowledge of classical history. "Cicero was a blustering pompous bully, too!" He was tempted to stop now and just use Bobby for the test, but the door was so close. And Morton was there, anyway.
"Yeah," cheered Bobby brightly, "he's a total sissy!"
Then Bobby got very busy looking at the ground and backing up. He said, "Hi, Tully," before breaking into a run.
Tully was standing right behind Timmy, making rabbit ears and cracking up silently. Then, in the move he was most feared for, he reached down Timmy's pants and miraculously pulled out his underwear. "This had better be better than last time, Tiny Tim," Tully said.
