My brother returned from a Halloween party last night and to my surprise presented me with a pumpkin head of candy. In it were three pieces of Halloween treats: a tootsie-roll pop, a kit-kat bar, and a mini reese's peanut butter cup. All three have at one time or another been personal favorites of mine. How sweet, I thought. (How sweet - get it?)
Woke up, went to work, came home, and POOF, treats are gone! Some trick stole my treat! I check my desk, underneath; I check the corners, the floor, under the bed. Nothing. Nothing but cobwebs, post-its, and the dumbbells I pretend to lift.
I'm flabbergasted. As a precautionary measure, I ask Stephen if he went and took back my treats. He answers, "Uhh, no?"
What? A nervous whine! Whoa! Guilty as charged, my friend, guilty as charged! Yet, I decide to make face in order to avoid conflict. So I continue searching the floors of the apartment (I really want this candy). But poor guy can't even help himself! He yells my name and awkwardly adds, "Koko probably took them or something."
What now? Koko? Koko the Cat? The one person in the apartment without opposable thumbs has somehow grabbed my candy and walked away with them? Where did she stash them? The cat pan? (I check to make sure.)
Low blow to steal my treats and blame the cat. Low blow.
But I can play that game, too - smell your feet, give you something good to eat, and if I don't, you won't care, I'll even let you pull down my underwear!
Just don't take my candy.
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