It was time to finally get rid of the apples that had been sitting on the counter for weeks. I decided to make some applesauce for the kid. I cored, peeled and cooked the apples until mushy, at which point I turned off the flame and went about my business.
In the middle of the night, I found myself wide awake running through the checklist of crap I needed to do or forgot to do (what mom doesn’t) and realized I never put the applesauce in the fridge.
The next morning, I went downstairs and the pot was gone. Did a group of ninjas expertly bypass the alarm and steal NOTHING save the pot of apple mush I had left on the stove? What kind of sick, twisted mind would forgo a flat-screen TV for a pot of cooked apples? Could someone be that obsessed with applesauce? I racked my brains for another explanation as I turned around in circles wondering where the hell the pot had crawled off to. Then it hit me…
I opened the drawer where the pot belongs – when it’s clean, mind you – and there it was. I pulled off the lid… and found my applesauce.
I then called the police and reported my brain missing.