February 16th, 22:09 | Stealth-genes
Okay, so the next time anyone accuses me of deviousness, stealth, or wicked thief-y tendencies, you know what? You can point all that responsibility straight at my mom.
Why, you might ask, am I inspired to tell the world about my mom's l33t cat-burglar tendencies? Let's rewind to Sunday, when we watched Memoirs of a Geisha (twelve-word review: not bad, not as good as the book, better than I expected) and bought Twizzlers as snackage. There were some leftover, and I'd kind of been slowly nibbling through them all week. Today, I was down to the last one, so I'd been keeping it as a sort of sugar-based head-pat for after I finished tonight's session with my tutorling (yup, the one that I don't seem to be helping at all).
So after I got home from helping her cram for tomorrow's test on Ancient Egypt, I headed to my room to find... nothing. My package of Twizzlers, mysteriously absent. I figured I must have hucked it in a purse, and didn't think about it.
Post-dinner, I was clearing of all the crap on the table, to throw it out when -- aha! -- the evidence! The empty Twizzler packet in the kitchen trash! When confronted, my mother, being the EverGirl that she is, turned her big innocent face on me to say "Well, it was just sitting there, I thought I'd finish the last one."
Grissom would say "There's only the evidence,"...
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