Submitted by Marshall Norton Jr.
She shoved me under her bed and told me not to move. Her father had gotten home earlier than expected. As the minutes passed, I inventoried the various pieces of dirty laundry and discarded plates under her bed with me.
A little later, her face appeared, upside-down. "They're leaving soon. I'll come back when they're gone. Here, have some," she said, offering me a piece of the Pop-Tart she'd brought up on a plate. I thought it best not to ask about the other plates for the moment.
[ From McSweeney's, reprinted without permission because they don't have any links to individual posts. ]
[ Note: I tried to find Mr. Norton online to ask permission to reprint this, but it appears his blog has been hacked. ]
[ Here's what to do before your blog gets hacked. ]