Prompt courtesy of Friday Fictioneers.
Raccoon opened the fridge and drank from the carton of milk. He finished, and slammed the door closed with his hip.
That’s when he saw the bomb sitting on the counter. He froze still as the snow on a mountain top. A few short breaths later, Raccoon tip-toed towards it. He studied the container. It looked atomic.
His tongue was as dry as the desert at high noon.
A faint buzz started and built up to a high whine. Feet as fleet as a rushing river carried him outside. He leapt over a small hedge just as the house exploded.