When I was young I always prefered plain chocolate chips to chocolate chip cookies. Sometimes when my mom make cookies she'd give me and my brothers three or four plain chocolate chips seperate. Only because the mass was so much less than three cookieswhat we'd normally get for snackwould I not offer to trade my cookies for more. Ten chocolate chips would wuld buy a cookie from me in a flash.
Unfortunatly my mom didn't make cookies daily. I needed more chocolate. When I was about six I realized that the jar of chocolate chips was right next to the jar of raisins. All I had to do was climb up only the counter and grab some. Simple.
For the for a few weeks I'd climb up and grab small handful when my mother wasn't looking. I'd always make she was in another part of the house first, but even if she'd gone to the grocery store I'd still look around nervusly every few sconds until the jar was safely back on the shelf. Getting caught would be a Bad Thing.
One morning my mom was in the next room and I wanted to get a handful. Normally I'd wait until she was so nearby but I didn't feel like waiting for her to go elsewhere, and besides, she was busy loading the washing machine. Plenty of time.
I climbed up onto the counter and got the jar. I quickly unscrewed the lid...and dropped it on the floor with a resounding crash. It was only about four inches in diameter but to me it sounded like a trashcan lid being dropped on the pavement. "What was that? my mom called.
"Uh, I dropped the raisin lid on the floor." Easy excuse. The raisin jar lid's the same as the chocolate chip jar's. But now I was up on the counter with the jar of chocolate chips in my hand and the lid on the floor.
I could hear my mom coming towards the door so I quickly grab a handfull and stuff it in my mouth and start climbing down to get the lid with my mouth still full.
Enter: Mom
"Oh ho! So that's where all the chocolate chips have gone."
I don't reply. How can I? "No, mom. These are raisins. Can't you tell?" Nope. My mom's not going to fall for it. Besides, my mouth is still full.
I don't remember what my punishment but I was probably sent to my room. I would have prefered being tied up in the basement, since I shared my room with my brothers and I sure as hell wanted to be alone for a while to get over the shock of getting caught. Just doing it was nerve-racking enough; getting caught was too unsettling for me to just shake off.
True story
Luca K. B. Masters
Last modified: 29 Sept. 2002.
Copyright 2001-2002 by General Wesc