The Case of the Missing Cookies

I'm taking my parents to court to prove I'm an innocent kid. The judge will most surely agree that they're wrong about what I did.

Just because all my fingers were sticky and chocolate was on my face, doesn't mean I stole those cookies. So there! I rest my case.

What's that you say, you need more proof? I have an alibi. When the cookies got stolen, I was outside. Now I ask you, why would I lie?

You have no witnesses on your side; just circumstantial lies. I think the real crook snuck inside in a masterful disguise.

Maybe he was disguised as me. I really cannot say. All I know is I did not steal any cookies that day.

Now judge, I ask for sympathy, so please instruct the jury to say that I'm not guilty (and to say it in a hurry!)

My folks are looking quite annoyed that I've taken things this far. But it's not as if they caught me with my hands in the cookie jar.

The jury's back, the verdict's in. Guilty?! That can't be! I gathered all the evidence that should have set me free.

Where did I go wrong, and now what will my sentence be? Three years of washing dishes, no! No way! They can't mean me!

The next time I take my parents to court (though I doubt it will be in my youth) I'll make sure that what I'm saying is actually the truth.

(c) 1998, Arden Davidson

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