As you made your way to the kitchen table to chow down on some BBQ chicken pizza, you escaped the gaze of everyone at the table except your mother. She took immediate notice to your impressive rump, which was catching up to hers, and then to the pink slippers on your feet.
“John,” she began with a noticeable tremor in her voice. “Are those my slippers?”
In your haste to gluttonously fill your stomach, you had entirely forgotten to remove the shoes on your feet. You didn’t even pay much mind to the fact that, just a few hours ago, such slippers would have no business fitting your oversized boy feet.
“Oh, right. I borrowed them because my feet were hurting after chores.”
“Are those MY socks?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I needed a fresh pair because mine are still in the wash.”
No one around the table but your mother could put two and two together. You were more interested in eating pizza, Briana was distracted by the new doll she had gotten while shopping, and Janet was on her phone.
In silence, your mother contemplated the situation. After weighing her options, she decided her best course of option was to...
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