He Shoots, He Scores!

I had to run to the store last night for pullups and wipes (I hate when I can't make it to the weekend; unscheduled trips to the store annoy me). While I was out I also needed to get a few dollars worth of gas to make it to and from work today. As I'm trying to deal with the gas pump (you should know I'm horribly uncoordinated with gas pumps), Doug calls me with this very important question: Have you seen my Diet Coke?

CUE ANNOYED LOOK. Are you kidding me? You called me to ask me where your drink is? This might be the lamest call he's ever made to me, and that is really saying something. He can't find it anywhere, he says. Ok, hold it right there. Not only is he male so he is predisposed not to be able to find things that are right in front of his face, he is also the most forgetful person I've ever met. I have told him on more than one occassion that I will be putting "I forgot" as his epitaph on his headstone. So after telling him to ask Elliott, who was smart enough to deny any involvement, I rudely hung up on him after expressing my shock that he would call and bother me with something so stupid. And when I get home I too looked the house over. No drink. Now, let the record show that I don't really care if he has the rest of it to consume, I just don't want a Diet Coke stain on the floor. About an hour later, I spotted it. That genious kid of mine had confiscated the drink, most likely stolen a few sips, and then placed it halfway through the hoop of his basketball goal that is hanging from the dining room doorknob. It was a perfect fit, and almost perfectly camouflaged. That kid is a genious.