The Chocolate Massacre

It was only another day in the house, Mum had been to the shop to buy the weekly shop. Of course all the house had been patiently for the parent to return, longing for the taste of chocolate which was often brought back. A separate bag always seemed to have the good stuff in, not the bags with vegetables and fruit in or the one which contained the frozen chicken fillets or fish pie which would be complained about until we realised we would starve without the bags of food first appeared unnecessary.

Up until the siege to the food, the house became unsettled. Dad had suggested we went out to the garden for awhile until Mum got back. The distant reply of “Maybe” signalled to Dad we knew his plan. He tended to try convince us to be busy around the time Mum returned with the food only to find Dad had taken the Custard Creams into the office and had scoffed them down with a cup of tea to the sound of Jimi Hendrix on the radio.

This time would be different, I had a master plan of disruption.

See, I figured an injury could distract Dad from the kitchen to allow enough time for a sneaky boy like me to get the goods and find a place to stash them before being interrogated by the rest of the family, nothing I couldn’t handle.

To get rid of my brothers, it was easy enough. Another distraction to the boys of the household seen as the talented ones, the problem with this is that they were often competitive. A swift move by the less noticeable son would easily get them out the way.

I waited by the upstairs window which could see right down to the bottom of the hill, where a certain vehicle would drive up starting my master plan. I saw our car.

I quickly went into my brothers room who shared while I was fortunate enough to have my own room. This gave me time to think. Think about moments like these. They had an Xbox between them so I knew their weakness. I tended not to go on the console so I wouldn’t even be considered.

I picked up the games and snapped all of the games which Sam, the oldest brother, played on. Hoping he would blame Jack, the youngest brother. I then took the controller and shouted Sam. “Sam, why are your games snapped?” Jack was on the toilet and Dad had been in the garden trying to hear the car while doing the lawn. As he ran into the room, I smashed the controller on the back of Sam’s head, opening a cut. He was easily knocked out considering he was the oldest but no-one even looked to me for strength. I kept myself to myself.

I quickly ran to Jack as he walked out the toilet, handing him the controller telling him not to let it go. I saw Dad entering the house and shouted him as I ran. “Dad, Jacks hurt Sam! His heads bleeding!” Who knew what a catastrophe I had caused. He ran upstairs but slipped on the wooden stairs, plummeting to the bottom after joining Sam with a head injury. I could hear Jack crying upstairs with Sam still unconscious. I dragged Dads body into the back room. Mum entered the house. I told her Sam’s in trouble upstairs and I would put the shopping away. She agreed.

Yet, all I found was chocolate wrappers and the bag of vegetables with Fish Pie. Mum had ate the chocolate.

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