Home Worked On It

(It is my sophomore year of high school. All my classmates are turning in first drafts of their research papers. I approach the teacher nervously.)

Me: “You’ve heard of the old excuse where the dog ate my homework, right?”

Teacher: “Yes…”

Me: “Um… my siblings ate my research paper?”

Teacher: “Well, you get points for originality, but I’m not sure I believe—”

(From my backpack I produce a plastic bag with the pulpy remains of my research paper, which my five-year-old sister and two-year-old brother got hold of that morning just before I left for school.)

Teacher: “—your siblings ate it. Right. Bring in a fresh draft tomorrow.”

Me: “Thank you.”