"Fau-stooooooooo!" an shrill opera mimic grated against the dormitory walls. Antony was up bright an early and jumping rakishly atop his trainwrecked bed, his shirt undone. Break was a time when the brothers got up early, took their operation to one secret A&F Jokes Super Secret Lab and unleashed hell for the professors to clean. One for each twelve days of Christmas. It was a tradition of sorts. "One neatfreak roomate, gone on holiday!" he punched a fist through the air, letting loose a handful of firecrackers. A piece of old toast was between his teeth and he was guiding a pig-shaped firework around the room that uttered heinous squeals on a five-second count. "Oi, mate," he crowed in the direction of the bathroom again. "Come look at this: think it'll break up breakfast?"

Fausto pulled a comb through his hair and leaned in the doorway, buckling his belt. "Not good enough," he shook his head methodically. "I told you, never plan this early in the morning. Your mojo just ain't there, man..." he made a sinking gesture with his hand. "This is break," he nodded seriously, crossing the room and digging around for a clean shirt. "It needs to be epic..."

"Epic," Antony mirrored.

"Brilliant," Fausto buttoned up.

"Brilliant," Antony now mocked.

"I need to come up with it..." Fausto suggested and immediately the firework shattered into a million sparks around his head, singing the chocolatey goodness of his Italian curls into a charred New Orleans-cuisine-colored black.

It was ten minutes later that the brothers wrestled into the Great Hall, grunts and 'ow's' terrorizing the peaceful breakfast scene. "Morning! Morning!" they called to their respective mates and girlfriends mid-fight. Fausto had Antony in a headlock and Antony had a whizz-bang--fuse lit, running out fast, and intent on the great big bowl of mushy, messy porrige on the professors' table.

"Fire in the hole!" he bellowed, breaking free from his brother and arcing the firework across the room.