I threw the wasabi bomb at the bistro time cops while Maurice managed to douse the flames on the poor chinchillas. Chaos erupted gleefully as the cops' cries echoed throughout the little bistro while they frantically scrubbed at their eyes. Picking up the wet--but no longer flaming--chinchillas, we booked it out of there. I glanced back in time to see the cops vanish, now that the bistro was safe from harm.