Baby's First Doomsday

“Sammy, No!”
Dr. Olsteen quickly snatched his son by the collar with one hand, spanked him roughly with the other then dropped him to the ground.
“What did you do, you little brat?” He began to quickly turn at the knobs and push at the buttons that Sammy had just finished playing with. He checked the monitor one last time, but he knew it was too late. The damage had already been done.
“Honey, don’t punish Sammy because you left the door open, I told you to keep an eye on him.” Dr. Powell’s wife was kneeling in the doorway, trying to console the boy.
“But -”
“Don’t ‘but’ me, mister. When I got pregnant, what was the first thing I told you?’
Dr. Olsteen hung his head sheepishly. “Child proof the doomsday machines.,” he mumbled.
“That’s right; and you didn’t. So get over it, come eat dinner and we’ll figure out what to do with this new wasteland you created in the morning” She picked up her son and left her husband sulking in front of his computer and simply muttered, “My mother was right about you.”

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