| Humor Fiction posted September 16, 2024 |
Don't be so quick to place the blame
It Wasn't Me!
by Begin Again
Once upon a time, deep in the forest, lived a family of —
Wait! I know that's how children's stories start, but that's the wrong setting for this one. Let's try again —
Once upon a time, in the heart of suburbia, lived the Miller family — Mom, Dad, three children, and, of course, the new puppy, Snickers.
Like most mornings, their home wasn't exactly peaceful or nestled in a forest. The crowded three-bedroom bungalow sat on a well-traveled city street, close to schools and businesses. Inside, especially when Dad was in charge, chaos reigned.
Upstairs, sixteen-year-old Jimmy was getting dressed for school as Maverick's stealth aircraft skimmed the clouds on his gaming console. "I'm Not Worried About It Right Now" by OneRepublic blared from his speakers, literally rattling the windows.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, three-year-old Tommy catapulted his Fruit Loops into the air, giggling hysterically as Whiskers, the cat, played kitty racquetball with them.
Meanwhile, baby Layla waddled around with nothing but a smile, her soiled diaper mysteriously MIA. She occasionally paused to snatch a Fruit Loop from Whiskers' makeshift playing field.
Dad — well, Dad had just stepped in something squishy. At that moment, the carpool horn blared impatiently from the driveway.
"Argh! What the —" he yelled, biting his tongue as Trisha, otherwise known as Mom, walked into the room. Hopping on one foot, he groaned, "Where's that dog?"
Trisha stepped outside and waved at the carpool. "Sorry! Grant's running a little behind. Go ahead without him — he'll drive himself."
Overhearing this, Jimmy called out, "Great! Dad, can you give me a ride? But hurry. I don't want to be late."
Trisha scanned the chaos in the kitchen. "Grant Miller — I thought you were watching the kids this morning while I scheduled the vet appointments."
"I was. It's not my fault someone declared today Natural Disaster Day." Frowning, he added, "Maybe getting a dog wasn't such a great idea after all."
"Dad, that's not fair. Snickers ate my report, and I didn't say we should get rid of him."
Trisha raised an eyebrow, giving Jimmy the "all-knowing mom look." "You mean the one I found in the family room barely started? Was Snickers helping you write it, too?"
"Well —" Jimmy grinned sheepishly. "It sounded better when I told Mr. Hayward that's why I didn't turn it in."
A shrill cry erupted from Tommy as Trisha snatched the cereal box out of his reach, but he quickly stopped when she shook her head. "None of that, young man." She set a bowl with a handful of cereal in front of him. "Eat it, or there's nothing else until lunch. Whiskers has had enough fun."
Just then, barking came from the bathroom. Grant, shoe in hand, and Trisha rushed down the hall. In the middle of the mess, Snickers and Layla were locked in a raucous game of tug-of-war — with the toilet paper.
Grant found the source of his earlier mishap outside the bathroom: a discarded diaper sporting suspicious brown smears.
Inside, Snickers stood tangled in a mountain of unrolled toilet paper. His fluffy tail wagged proudly as the paper trailed behind him like a royal cape. He blinked at his humans, big innocent eyes gleaming, and tilted his head to one side.
His expression said it all — "See? It wasn't me!"
Once upon a time, deep in the forest, lived a family of —
Wait! I know that's how children's stories start, but that's the wrong setting for this one. Let's try again —
Once upon a time, in the heart of suburbia, lived the Miller family — Mom, Dad, three children, and, of course, the new puppy, Snickers.
Like most mornings, their home wasn't exactly peaceful or nestled in a forest. The crowded three-bedroom bungalow sat on a well-traveled city street, close to schools and businesses. Inside, especially when Dad was in charge, chaos reigned.
Upstairs, sixteen-year-old Jimmy was getting dressed for school as Maverick's stealth aircraft skimmed the clouds on his gaming console. "I'm Not Worried About It Right Now" by OneRepublic blared from his speakers, literally rattling the windows.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, three-year-old Tommy catapulted his Fruit Loops into the air, giggling hysterically as Whiskers, the cat, played kitty racquetball with them.
Meanwhile, baby Layla waddled around with nothing but a smile, her soiled diaper mysteriously MIA. She occasionally paused to snatch a Fruit Loop from Whiskers' makeshift playing field.
Dad — well, Dad had just stepped in something squishy. At that moment, the carpool horn blared impatiently from the driveway.
"Argh! What the —" he yelled, biting his tongue as Trisha, otherwise known as Mom, walked into the room. Hopping on one foot, he groaned, "Where's that dog?"
Trisha stepped outside and waved at the carpool. "Sorry! Grant's running a little behind. Go ahead without him — he'll drive himself."
Overhearing this, Jimmy called out, "Great! Dad, can you give me a ride? But hurry. I don't want to be late."
Trisha scanned the chaos in the kitchen. "Grant Miller — I thought you were watching the kids this morning while I scheduled the vet appointments."
"I was. It's not my fault someone declared today Natural Disaster Day." Frowning, he added, "Maybe getting a dog wasn't such a great idea after all."
"Dad, that's not fair. Snickers ate my report, and I didn't say we should get rid of him."
Trisha raised an eyebrow, giving Jimmy the "all-knowing mom look." "You mean the one I found in the family room barely started? Was Snickers helping you write it, too?"
"Well —" Jimmy grinned sheepishly. "It sounded better when I told Mr. Hayward that's why I didn't turn it in."
A shrill cry erupted from Tommy as Trisha snatched the cereal box out of his reach, but he quickly stopped when she shook her head. "None of that, young man." She set a bowl with a handful of cereal in front of him. "Eat it, or there's nothing else until lunch. Whiskers has had enough fun."
Just then, barking came from the bathroom. Grant, shoe in hand, and Trisha rushed down the hall. In the middle of the mess, Snickers and Layla were locked in a raucous game of tug-of-war — with the toilet paper.
Grant found the source of his earlier mishap outside the bathroom: a discarded diaper sporting suspicious brown smears.
Inside, Snickers stood tangled in a mountain of unrolled toilet paper. His fluffy tail wagged proudly as the paper trailed behind him like a royal cape. He blinked at his humans, big innocent eyes gleaming, and tilted his head to one side.
His expression said it all — "See? It wasn't me!"
 Recognized |
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