Morgan hears a tap turned on... then off. Michelle, re-entering, hides a wet surprise behind her back.
"Guess what I got."
Morgan, sensing mischief, grabs a pillow.
"Hey, you wouldn't dare. You'll get the sheets all soaked!"
She smiles. Dangling from its reservoir tip, its latex stretched grotesquely, his prophylactic swings from left to right. She lets it fly. It flattens onto his shield, and flops unbroken.
"Ha; you missed!"
Retrieving the distended bladder, Morgan plays aggressor, launching it across the bedroom...
SPLAT!
...Michelle, turned-tail, gets clobbered on the bum; but the sack rebounds; it does not break; it waddles down the hall like a drunken duckling. Morgan makes a dash for more ammunition.

 

 

Gillian has unplugged...

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