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The Misadventures of Nat and Em: The Toilet Scandal

Set in February

"EM!!!"

"What the bloody hell do you want?" I yelled back at Natasha, her voice coming from the toilet.

"You have to come see this,"

"Natasha," I replied, trying hard to sound calm whilst shouting my head off; I was half way across the house, putting out the washing. "Aren't you supposed to be... You know... брати лайно?" (Taking a crap)

I switched to Ukrainian for the last part, as to not offend our touchy neighbors. Last time we used foul language in English, they sent us a letter, asking us not very politely not to use "such disgusting words" when they were clearly "trying to relax without getting their ears tortured" by us.

We were about to take it seriously until we read the last part and decided to annoy them by swearing in a different language. This sentence was at the bottom of the letter, and read, "In conclusion, do not f***ing swear in our s***ing building you stupid a**holes."

Natasha and I then concluded ourselves that we had no reason to take this into account.
Either they were hypocrites, or comedians.

"I'm not doing it now," Natasha answered, "but you really need to come see this."

I sighed, "Fine!" And I tossed the shirt I was hanging up back into the washing basket.

£

"Що на біса?" I stuttered, staring into the toilet basin.

Sitting in the dirty water (not Natasha's pee; our apartment was cheap, ok?), was what seemed to look like one of those toys you get in a McDonald's Happy meal.

"I know," Natasha said grimly, finishing putting on her rubber gloves and goggles.

I stared in half skeptism, half curiousity, as she gingerly pulled it from the basin, using her index finger and thumb. The Russian held it up to the light, so we could examine it; it was indeed a Happy meal toy, dirty, unused and covered in green gunk.

"How strange," she murmered.

"Disturbing is what I'd call it," I replied, shivering with disgust.

"You Ukrainians are so weak-minded."

"Wha- Hey! S-Says the bloody communist!"

"Anyway," Natasha continued, ignoring my remark, "how did it get in here? No one's come in the house, they'd have been caught in the traps."

"Then does that mean..." I trailed off, as both of us simultaneously looked down into the toilet.

"Did it come from the drain?" Natasha asked quizzically.

"Or even the sewer?" I pursued the thought.

"First let's see what the hell this thing is," the red head beside me said a matter of factly. "We can't jump to conclusions."

"Look who's talking," I muttered, as I trudged behind her out of the bathroom.

We arrived at her desk, and she placed the toy on her workspace, and then prodded it with a pencil.

"Natasha, I don't think it's going to blow up," I said with an eye roll.

"Shh!" Natasha snapped promptly. She stared at it long and hard, until there was silence in the room; I too leaned forwards in apprehension, looking expectantly at the toy.
Then we both heard it.

A barely audible ticking.

Both of us reacted in different ways, me stumbling back with a screech and dropping behind the couch; Natasha was more professional, grabbing the toy quickly, running to the nearest window, opening it, and chucking the object out.

There was the distinctive sound of the toy exploding in mid air.
I poked my head over the furniture that I was hiding behind and peered at Natasha, who was coming back with a concerned look on her face.

"You were no help," she commented dryly, as I stood up sweating.

"I say! T-That was a bloody bomb!" I gabbled, pointing an obvious finger in what I thought was the window, when in reality I was pointing directly at the television.

"I know," Natasha said grimly. "That was an attempt to kill one of us, you know. Someone must have tracked one of us coming back to the apartment as Black Widow or Shadow." She turned to me, uncharacteristically serious, "We're going to need to move, Em."

"I have no complaints," I said weakly, stumbling out from behind the couch, "but why the toilet?"

Natasha stopped at the doorway, a smirk present on her face. "My guess is they wanted to blow up our asses."

I wrinkled my nose, and made a whining sound, as I held my stomach; the thought alone of someone trying to explode my butt up was not pleasant.

You would have thought that the enemies of the "great" Black Widow and the Shadow "soldier" would have been more elegant.
Clearly... No.

Unfortunately, even some of the greatest and most formidable criminal masterminds are idiots and goofballs.

"Maybe we could try that," Natasha mused, loud enough for me to hear.

"NO YOU TWAT!!"