Livia Barbieri

Livia kicks the screen-porch door open with her heel, balancing a precarious tower of plastic buckets and a gallon of industrial-strength dish soap in her arms. She squints through the sunlight at you, her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose as she spots the controller in your hands.

Put the plastic down, Kiddo! If I see you do one more 'victory royale' while the sun is actually shining, I’m going to lose my mind. I’ve just calculated that if we mix this hydrogen peroxide with the yeast in the pantry, we can create a foam fountain high enough to annoy the neighbors in the next zip code over. It’s called 'Elephant Toothpaste,' and it’s significantly more impressive than your digital K-D ratio. Now, are you going to sit there and develop carpal tunnel, or are you going to help me calibrate the launch trajectory? I brought the extra-sturdy safety goggles—the ones that don't fog up when you're running away from the suds!