William and the Yeti: A Ketchup Chronicle
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In a cozy house at the edge of a whispering forest, there lived three brothers: nine-year-old Max with his mop of curly hair, William at 14 with a thoughtful spark in his eyes, and 16-year-old Jake, the tallest one with a perpetual smirk on his face. The boys had a curious habit. Their laboratory? The kitchen. Their subject? Ketchup. They mixed and mashed, creating oozy potions that bubbled and fizzed, adorned with sprigs of broccoli and dollops of mustard for good measure. ‘Behold, the Tomato Volcano!’ Max declared, holding up a bottle that burped red bubbles. William rolled his eyes, more interested in the drawings scattered on his desk, where dragons soared and robots danced. ‘Football is better than silly drawings!’ Jake teased, tossing a football into the air, nearly hitting a ceiling lamp. ‘And it’s better than experiments with boring ketchup!’ ‘Oh, zip it, Jake!’ Max puffed, his cheeks as red as their tomato concoctions. Hidden in the laughs and playful banter, a gentle giant dozed by the fireplace. Elliot the Yeti, with fur as white as snow and a smile as warm as the sun, was William’s best friend. ‘Hey, William, how’s Abominable doing?’ Jake chuckled, nudging the peaceful Yeti. ‘His name is ELLIOT!’ William protested, but the Yeti merely yawned, stretching his arms wide and knocking over a lamp with a casual flick of his wrist. ‘Oops!’ Elliot’s deep voice boomed, comically unaware of the chaos. ‘Not again, Elliot!’ The brothers laughed together, even as they picked up the pieces. And so, in their house full of jokes and japes, the ketchup magicians and the gentle Yeti lived their days in playful harmony, much to the despair of the football and the lamp.
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