The bag was packed. We were all ready, dressed in our zip-lock bags and armed to the teeth with toothpicks for swords and thimbles for helmets. We were all connected by a fishing line so we wouldn’t lose each other. Deciding to make our move in the dead of the night, so as not to be noticed by the Smiths and of course the deadly Baby Jake, we set off. Fortunately, our size came in handy; it meant we made no noise.
We crawled up the stairs in careful silence. iPhone was up front, followed by AC, who was carrying the bag, and I was at the back. I looked behind me every three seconds, expecting something, or rather someone, to be following us. Thankfully, no-one was there.
Suddenly iPhone stopped. He gestured with his hands, or to put it more accurately, he performed a karate-chop-hand-wave-peace-sign. AC and I shared a puzzled look and glared at iPhone. He tried again, this time with a bunny-ears-high-five gesture. Now I was confused. iPhone sighed, his hand on his head.
‘We’ve reached the nursery!’ he hissed, annoyed.
‘Ohhhhhhhh,’ I said, now smiling. But AC was frowning.
‘How in the name of Apple,’ he began, ‘will we open that massive thing?!’ He gestured at the heavy oak door splattered with big, sparkly letters that read: BABY JAKE. iPhone thought long and hard with his high-technology, internet-accessing brain that knows the answer to every question in the universe.
‘Aha! I’m thin. I can slip under the door!’ iPhone exclaimed joyfully, grinning.
‘Um, on behalf of AC and myself,’ I said, patting iPhone on his back. ‘What about us?’
iPhone looked lost for a minute. But only for a minute.
‘Take off the fishing line, pass it to me and I can open the door if I hook it on the doorknob!’ he triumphantly told us. We agreed on the fact that this was our only plan, and iPhone disappeared underneath. AC and I passed him the fishing line and I’m not sure what happened inside, but after twenty minutes of robotic swears and grunts of effort, the door finally opened. Now we were in Baby Jake’s nursery.
Behind enemy lines.