" Busteeeeeeeeeeeeer? Allen? Clemmons? Have you seen your sister?" Freya called.

Allen popped his head out from his room upstairs. " Noooo...... Clemmons?"

" Nope! Buster?"

Buster signed, Not since this morning.

Duke nodded thoughtfully. " Uh huh...."

Then his eyes widened. " Wait..... Isn't today-"

" The day she has that debate with the Captain about rules?!" Freya yelped, dashing for the remote.

" CLEMMONS! BUSTER! ALLEN! GET DOWN HERE!" Duke yelled.

The three brothers scrambled down the stairs in a frenzy, nearly tripping over each other. Clemmons skidded into the living room, Buster right behind him, and Allen half-tripped onto the couch.

Freya had already turned on the TV, flipping through channels at lightning speed. "Come on, come on... Where is it?!" she muttered, frantically searching.

Then—there it was.

The screen lit up with the image of a very smug-looking Mia, seated across from a very tense-looking Captain Brennant in a news studio. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: "LIVE DEBATE: RULES, REGULATIONS, AND COMMON SENSE WITH MIA DETAIN."

"Oh no," Clemmons whispered.

"Oh yes," Allen whispered back, in absolute horror.

Buster facepalmed.

Duke grabbed the remote and cranked the volume up just in time to hear Mia say, "Rule 457-bx states that all police officers and firefighters must wear clown shoes while on duty. For morale."

There was a long pause in the studio.

Captain Brennant blinked. "Excuse me, what?"

"Clown shoes," Mia repeated seriously. "For morale."

Allen made a strangled noise. "NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Clemmons flung himself onto the couch. "WHY, MIA?! WHY?!"

Buster signed rapidly, looking personally offended. Do you know how much running we do?!

Meanwhile, on the screen, the Captain turned a shade of red that rivaled a fire truck. "That is absolutely ridiculous! There is no way—"

Mia held up a thick, official-looking book. "Oh, but Captain, I believe you'll find it right here in the rulebook." She flipped to a random page and pointed at it.

Captain Brennant squinted. "That... That's your rulebook, isn't it?"

Mia grinned. "Possibly."

The phone rang.

Duke sighed, already knowing who it was. He picked it up. "Yeah, Captain?"

"GET. HER. OFF. THE AIR!" the Captain roared.

Before Duke could respond, the phone beeped again. Another call.

He sighed and clicked over. "Hello?"

"PREPOSTEROUS!" the mayor's voice exploded into his ear, full of unnecessarily fancy words. "This latest ordinance is the epitome of absurdity! The sheer audacity—nay, the preposterous impracticality—"

Duke pulled the phone away from his ear and deadpanned, "Yep. The mayor's mad, too."

Freya threw up her hands. "Great. Just great."

Allen, meanwhile, had grabbed a pillow and was screaming into it.

Clemmons looked at the TV in despair. "What if she wins this debate?"

The thought sent a chill through the room.

Buster slowly turned to face them all, signed one sentence, and then dramatically flopped onto the floor.

Then we all wear clown shoes.

Unfortunately, Mia wasn't done.

"All police officers and firefighters must now ride bicycles everywhere. Effective immediately." Mia announced with a completely straight face.

The screen cut to Captain Brennant, who looked like he had just swallowed a hornet. "You CANNOT be serious."

Mia simply nodded. "For environmental reasons. Also, because it builds character."

Silence.

Then—

"WHAT?!" Freya shrieked, nearly knocking over her cocoa as she shot to her feet. "SHE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!"

Duke was frozen, staring at the TV in horror. Allen looked like he was about to faint. Clemmons let out a strangled wheeze.

Buster calmly picked up a notepad and started writing.

Allen turned to Freya, panicked. "Mom, you're the Fire Chief! Do something!"

Freya threw her hands in the air. "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!? WALK INTO THAT STUDIO AND YANK HER OUT MYSELF?!"

"YES!" Allen and Clemmons yelled in unison.

The phone rang.

Duke didn't even hesitate. He picked it up. "Yeah, Captain?"

Captain Brennant was beyond livid. "DOES YOUR DAUGHTER EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH A FIRE TRUCK WEIGHS?!"

"Probably," Duke sighed.

"DOES SHE EXPECT US TO STRAP A FIRE HOSE TO A BICYCLE?!"

"...Possibly."

The Captain let out a string of words that probably weren't appropriate for television. Then, another call beeped in.

Duke groaned. "Hold on." He clicked over. "Hello?"

The mayor's voice thundered through the speaker, overflowing with even more unnecessarily fancy words.

"THIS—THIS IS AN UNMITIGATED CATASTROPHE! The sheer ludicrousness of such an impractical decree is beyond the pinnacle of absurdity!"

Duke pulled the phone away from his ear and muttered, "Yeah. The mayor's mad, too."

Freya was pacing now, running a hand through her hair. "Mia has lost her mind! She does realize that fire trucks exist for a reason, right?!"

Clemmons was still staring at the TV in disbelief. "We're really gonna have to ride bikes, aren't we?"

Allen whimpered, curling into the fetal position. "Mia's gonna ruin us all."

Buster finally held up the notepad he had been writing on.

If this goes through, I'm putting a siren on my bike.

Duke sighed. "I'll buy you one."

The house was already in shambles when Mia dropped her latest bombshell.

"Effective immediately, all firefighters and police officers must dedicate themselves to the way of yoga." Mia announced proudly, clasping her hands together like a meditation guru.

The news anchor looked like she had just swallowed a lemon. The Captain looked like he was about to throw his chair across the studio. The mayor was offscreen, probably having an aneurysm.

Back at home, the silence was thick.

Then—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Allen let out a soul-piercing scream and flopped onto the floor. Clemmons, clutching his head, ran in frantic circles around the couch. Buster, as usual, was calmly signing something, but his fingers were moving so fast it looked like he was about to cast a magic spell.

Freya stood frozen, eyes twitching. "She did NOT just say that."

Duke groaned, rubbing his face. "Oh, she said it."

Freya's nostrils flared. "MY FIREHOUSE DOES NOT DO YOGA."

"Apparently, we do now," Clemmons wailed. "What's next?! Do we fight fires with 'positive energy' and 'deep breathing?!'"

The phone rang. Again.

Duke answered without even looking. "Yes, Captain?"

Captain Brennant's voice came through, completely unhinged. "YOGA?!? SHE WANTS US TO DO YOGA?!"

"Yup."

"HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO HELP US CATCH CRIMINALS OR PUT OUT FIRES?!"

Duke sighed. "Well, according to Mia, it increases flexibility, focus, and inner peace."

A loud crash sounded from the other end, followed by some very colorful language.

Freya snatched the phone from Duke's hand. "Listen here, Brennant. I don't care if this is some new law, I am NOT making my firefighters do yoga in the middle of a burning building!"

"GOOD, BECAUSE I'M NOT MAKING MY OFFICERS DO IT EITHER!"

Another beep interrupted the chaos.

Duke glanced at the caller ID. "Oh no."

Freya tensed. "Don't tell me—"

Duke sighed. "It's the mayor."

Freya groaned, gripping her forehead. "Of course it is."

Duke braced himself and answered. "Hello?"

The mayor's voice blasted through the speaker, even fancier than before.

"THIS. THIS HAS TRANSCENDED THE BOUNDARIES OF RIDICULOUSNESS! The mere audacity—the egregious misallocation of resources—yoga?! YOGA?! The very integrity of our civil services is in jeopardy!"

Duke handed the phone to Freya, deadpan. "He's mad."

Freya snatched the phone. "No kidding?!"

Meanwhile, Allen was hyperventilating into a paper bag, Clemmons was repeatedly whispering, "This is a nightmare," and Buster was calmly scrolling on his phone, probably looking up "best yoga mats for beginners."

The TV flickered again.

Mia was now demonstrating a downward dog pose.

"It's all about balance," she explained. "Now, let's all take a deep breath and embrace our new lifestyle."

Freya stared at the screen, her eye twitching dangerously.

Allen took one look at his mother and whispered, "We're doomed."