The van sputtered to a lazy and trembling halt, and Joy gave herself a moment. Just a moment. She needed a moment. Slowly, she turned to her family, all seated in the back of the fan, parading about like they were angels of the highest caliber. Little lying devils. She narrowed her eyes.

“Alright, Calamity. Chaos. I want you two on your best behavior. No. Cancel that. I want you two on whatever behavior you have that doesn’t involve you blowing stuff up. Do you understand? Not one explosion today. Not. One. I’m serious. If you do anything, ANYTHING today, I want you to stop and consider two things: One, could this result In an explosion? And two: If it DOES result in an explosion, how angry will mom be? Answer to that second question is “disproportional to almost biblical levels.”The coyote snarled, and turned towards her daughter.

“Pandora. No hitting on the pilots. No hitting on the passengers. No hitting on the crew. No hitting Calamity or Chaos. There is to be no hitting of any kind.” She snapped and turned towards her eldest son, narrowing her eyes even further.

“Catastrophe, do not sneak into the pilot’s bar. Do not pretend to be a pilot. Do not drink. Do not at any point, attempt to start a kegger. Do not get the pilots drunk. If at some point someone refers to you as ‘bro’ that is not family, immediately disregard the following advice. Is that clear? Does everybody understand?! We’re going to have a family vacation! We’re going out to have fun! FUN! We are going to have FUN. ALL OF US! Do you know what isn’t fun for me?! Bailing my family out of jail. And I -…” Joy paused, squinting at Catastrophe, who was grinning softly at her.

“Are you drunk?” Joy asked flatly, already knowing the answer before Catastrophe threw up his arms with a triumphant and thunderous roar.

“HELLS YEAH!” He barked, followed by Chaos, who threw up his own arms, attempting to imitate his brother’s echoing outburst with his own puppy sized squeak.

“HELLS YEAH!” Chaos giggled. Joy stared in utter amazement and let her glance gently seep between the intoxicated canines wobbling haphazardly before her. She had well climbed beyond the precarious plateau of anger, and now found herself contently nestled in fury; a great bubbling pot of which she stirred with a casual flare of elegance as she stroked a set of fingers across her brow. Catastrophe had managed to get Chaos drunk somehow, ten minutes before the flight.

“Cannon. Your son is drunk.” She snarled. Cannon nodded his head.

“That does seem to be an accurate assessment of the situation. “ He said thoughtfully, looking over his shoulder at Catastrophe, who gave him a thumbs up.

“HELLS YEAH!” Chaos squeaked. Joy took a deep breath and squeezed her fingers into a fist so tightly it hurt. They were so close, yet so, so far…