Lawless Letters

I learned tonight that my kids are not human. You’d think: human mother + human father = human kids. You’d be wrong, because they are pigs. I found this out when I cleaned their rooms. That part was strategic, you see. The kids were away, staying at my mom’s for a week, which they do every summer. I scheduled a carpet cleaning service. Then I went to clear everything off the bedroom carpets. Seriously, kid? And you wondered why those ants suddenly appeared? I could write an entire Shel Silverstein-esque poem detailing the mounds of debris I found lurking under their beds, loitering behind bookshelves, and littering the corners of their closets. Detritus scattered wall to wall, Lego pieces, rubber balls, Bits of popcorn, water cups, Snack bowls (some still half filled up), Candy wrappers, burst balloons, Lite Brite pegs and plastic spoons, Marbles, Shopkins (lots of those), Random beads and dirty clothes, Lollipops (well, just the sticks), Stethoscopes from doct

Photo credit: Futurity.org Purring, the cat snaked through Jerry’s legs just as he was carrying Edith’s birthday cake to the table. Filling out the incident report for the house fire, Lieutenant Morris shook his head. A feline perpetrator. That was a first. Prompt: Write a story in exactly 39 words that contain a verb which is also, when used as a noun, the name of an animal.