Shopped out and full of sushi we returned to Aidan’s and I went straight to the breakfast table to grab my glasses, only they weren’t there.
Where oh where could my glasses be?
I tore apart my room (yes, I have a room at Aidan’s house) emptied my bag, and purse, over and over, but no glasses.
We scoured the house, the terrace, the trash, but still, no glasses.
Aidan said that she had hoped that Clementine hadn’t taken them. I laughed at this. There is no way that a sweet dog like Clementine Mirabel Petals could do such a thing. Right?
Of course she did.
We found my glasses in the back garden. The lenses gnawed on, one popped out altogether, and an arm mangled to bits. It was a sad sight.
Obviously Clementine’s golden sweetness is hiding a terrible secret. She’s a kleptomaniac with a penchant for torture.
P.S. At least Clementine didn’t throw a window through my shower like someone else did.
Yeah Bec, I’m looking at you.
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