"Naah. It isn't, but the shelves might be." S.T. grabbed one of the shelving units and yanked. Sheet metal screeched on tile until it hit a pool of the cranberry-pickle-gore cocktail that was slowly spreading across the floor, and then it slid out easily. Pushing it over made the boxes of cereal on the top do exactly that thing that classroom TVs said not to. They toppled over, while the shelves were still teetering. Then it all followed.

"Let's try not to kill him. Might be a patient." The fact that apologizing for accidental murder was a bitch went without saying. Though he wasn't sure Two-Face gave a shit about any of them.