My computer is hinting it no longer loves me – by making REALLY weird noises and suddenly freezing up or rebooting – so I panicked. My wife said it was time for a new one. That’s usually the sign. WHY DON’T I LISTEN???
And who am I kidding? It’s a robot, and
robots don’t love!!
They just up and go when you aren’t expecting it. When it’s good for them. Screw you and your needs.
Which is cruel, really. We were good together.
So I am cleaning out old folders. (Yes, I did a backup first. Kind of. I saved my pictures file and my books files. The rest? Meh.)
I was cleaning out folders and deleting all sorts of crap I’ve accumulated from friends who are no longer friends, input from other authors that is no longer important, folders of story ideas I know I’m not gonna write.
Hey, there comes a time when you have to move on.
I didn’t say I wasn’t sad.
But as I say goodbye to old friends, I take a moment to smile at a few cute ideas that can’t really become anything but shouldn’t go away. In fact, this one should have been posted here two years ago when I wrote it, when my daughter was four. I had planned on it being an illustrated children’s book. I think you’ll see why. Enjoy.
Detective Katz And The Case Of The Missing Cookie
BASED ON A TRUE STORY
My name is Kitty, but professionally I go by Detective Katz.
I’m a cat that lives in a big house. Lots of things happen here that go unexplained, and this case was no different.
It was a Wednesday. The Big Man and The Little Girl had just gotten back from some shopping. There were bags of groceries and some milk.
I like milk. I’m a cat. I notice these things.
It was getting ready to rain, so The Big Man went back out to the car. That’s when they said the incident occurred.
The Big Man placed a small white bag on the counter. It didn’t look like the other grocery bags.
When he returned, he put away the groceries and went about his business.
After all that excitement, I needed a nap, so I took off to my favorite spot, a cozy corner by the couch.
That’s when it happened.
That night, after dinner, The Big Man noticed that the little white bag was gone.
I got called in on the case.
I had three suspects: The Big Man, also known as The Daddy; The Little Girl, and the other resident of the house, a mysterious woman they referred to as The Mommy. She wasn’t home when the other two brought in the groceries.
I questioned each suspect individually.
The Daddy said that he had placed the little white bag on the counter and went back out to the car. He says he did not move the little white bag, and he did not see it again. When he went to look for it after dinner, he noticed it was gone.
The Daddy runs a tight ship, and he wouldn’t normally misplace something. No doubt there had been a theft.
I asked what was in the little white bag.
“A cookie,” he said. “One oatmeal raisin cookie.”
Oatmeal raisin cookies were The Daddy’s favorite kind.
Further questioning of The Daddy revealed that he and The Little Girl had gone to BuyMart, and since they had wanted snack, he bought three oatmeal raisin cookies.
One for The Daddy,
One for The Little Girl,
and one for The Mommy.
But Mommy was on a diet and shouldn’t be eating cookies. Daddy knew that. That was the first hole in his story. Maybe he wanted two cookies for himself.
I wasn’t sure The Little Girl liked oatmeal cookies; she didn’t even like oatmeal for breakfast. Also, maybe in his rush to move the car, The Daddy had misplaced the cookie.
Either way, he was definitely a suspect. I proceeded to question The Little Girl.
“What happened to the little white bag?” I asked her. She played dumb. She was a cute kid, and she petted me a lot, but that may have just been to throw me off the case. She knew more than she was letting on.
“Come on,” I said. “Talk.”
She panicked. “Mommy ate the cookie!” she shouted. “Mommy, you shouldn’t have eaten that cookie!”
By now The Mommy was upstairs. “What cookie?” The Mommy asked.
“I bought cookies at the store,” The Daddy said.
He admitted to eating one. “I ate one in the car,” The Daddy said.
Then The Little Girl spoke up. “I was eating one in the car, too,” she admitted.
The Mommy denied everything. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She said. “I never saw any cookies.”
I was stumped, with no leads. We decided to re-enact everybody’s movements.
The Daddy said he placed the little white bag on the counter, then he went back out to the car.
The Mommy wasn’t home at the time.
The Little Girl said she didn’t eat the cookie.
It looked like somebody wasn’t telling the truth, so I leaned on The Daddy. “Did you misplace the little white bag?” I asked.
Then The Mommy spoke up. “I think I saw a white bag in the other room,” she said.
We walked into the other room, and there it was. The Daddy had forgotten where he had placed it.
But the little white bag was empty.
“I saw this when I came in,” The Mommy said. “It was already empty.”
So the theft had taken place after The Daddy moved the car and before The Mommy came home.
That meant only one thing.
I turned to The Little Girl. “Did you eat the third cookie? Tell me the truth.”
With that, she confessed.
“I ate the cookie!” The Little Girl said.
While The Daddy was moving the car, and before The Mommy came home, The Little Girl snuck over and ate the third cookie. That meant the Mommy would not be able to have one.
The Daddy said, “You should always tell your parents the truth.”
The Mommy said, “You may do something bad, but you make it worse if you lie about it.”
The Little Girl was sorry. “When I was in the car, I took a bite of my cookie and it broke and fell onto the floor, so when we came home, I threw it away. Then, I saw the other cookie and I ate that one.”
“Don’t you think you should have told us that?” The Mommy asked.
“Yes,” said The Little Girl. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” The Mommy said. “We forgive you.”
“It’s getting late,” The Daddy said. “It’s time we went to bed.”
I watched them go up the stairs to bed. The Daddy had eaten one cookie, The Little Girl had dropped her cookie on the floor of the car and threw it away, and The Mommy was on a diet, so she did not want a cookie. That meant that The Little Girl had only eaten one cookie after all.
Case closed. Time for a nap.
“Where did you throw away the cookie you dropped?” The Daddy asked.
“I don’t remember,” The Little Girl said.
It looked like I was back on the case. We don’t want any ants. I would organize a search right after I took a nap.
I’m Detective Katz, and those are the facts.