A few minutes shy of late evening, a golf cart barreled past the pine forest at an alarming speed, its wheels kicking up a cloud of dust. Mad Mandy, nearing the lakehouse, yanked the steering wheel sharply, bringing the cart to an abrupt halt just inches from the front porch. She parked it haphazardly, its back end jutting out into the driveway.
Visibly fuming, Mandy emerged from the golf cart, her face flushed and her breathing rapid. She dashed toward the front door, her movements hurried and determined. Seeing the door slightly ajar, she kicked it open, shouting, "Ace, you jerk!"
Inside, Danny, passed out on the couch, lay covered in butter and hot sauce, surrounded by empty soda cups, lobster shells, and dirty plates. Startled awake by the slamming door and Mandy's shout, he bolted upright in terror, yelling, "It wasn't me! It was Ace! Ace did it!"