Fred is wearing the same shirt as I am today.
We are shirt-brothers.
Fred also drives the same car as I do. Same make, model, and color.
Which makes us car-brothers.
Toasters? Well, I don’t see how that’s important, but they’re also the same.
So we’re also toaster-brothers.
I’ve even gotten Fred’s signature down cold, too.
I show it to Fred.
His eyes get wide, and he tries to scream through the gag.
I toss two shovels into the trunk with him (we’re shovel-brothers, too!) and slam the lid.
Shallow grave brothers?
Nah. I’ll let Fred have that to himself.