My crime is that I have just finished off the bag of Twisties someone gave my boys. For a present. Yesterday. I didn’t let them eat the whole lot in one sitting.
My punishment is that the Twisties are chicken.
The story so far
I'm from Adelaide, but I'm living in Abu Dhabi right now. One day, I saw a gold leaf four wheel drive. It made me cry.
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My first novel, Black Dust Dancing, was published by Wakefield Press in March. It looks like this:
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My first novel, Black Dust Dancing, was published by Wakefield Press in March. It looks like this:
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adelaide from adelaide 
i always preferred chicken.
EEEWWWWW
Can’t stand fake chicken! Or fake bacon or ham.
I bet the boys won’t even know they’re gone, either. Months later, I find half-eaten lolly bags in the back of the pantry.
Heh, either they won’t know they’re gone, OR you will need to get another packet of chicken twisties before you pick them up, and throw half out. Or eat half.
As my uncle used to say (instead of mea maxima culpa) in best altar boy Latin, ‘Pecka pecka pecka’.
cack.
serves you right for stealing food from innocent children.
You’ve just reminded me that I bought three packets of chips for the boys this morning, and ate one on the way home from the supermarket.
So now I have go eat the other two packets before everyone gets home from school.
You are such a lifesaver 3C. Thanks.