It seemed the cling wrap on the toilet claimed the wrong victim and Taffeta was none too pleased. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Mom’s not here,” I said trying to turn the door handle. “Let me in.”
“No,” she spat.
Reluctantly Taffeta unlocked the door and let me inside. She had already cleaned herself up, but her face was still mangled into an angry scowl. “What?” she snarled.
“I’m sorry.” I said with a laugh. “It wasn’t meant for you.”
“Yeah well guess what. I peed all over myself.”
To an extent she was right, I was huge jerk most of the time. It was just hilarious to watch people squirm, but in all honesty I had set the trap for my older sister.
“It was just a little joke,” I explained to my fuming sibling.
“Well I can tell a joke too,” she said pulling her phone from her pocket.
Too late. Tearing through the hallway, Taffeta ran to her room, hitting her speed dial as she went.
Barreling down the hallway we went. Me yelling, “Don’t call her!” while Taffeta ran for her life, waiting for my mother to pick up. She ended up making it to her room before I could get to her and left me standing outside banging on the door. Those little legs move fast!
“Taffeta, let me in,” I pleaded through the door.
“No!” she called back.
Holding my ear to the door, I listened through to the other side, “Hi can I speak to Mrs. Chiffon please? This is her daughter.”
Oh sugar balls. I banged on the door again, “Come on now, this isn’t funny! I said I was sorry!”
I didn’t even stay to hear the rest, but it was easily translatable. I was in a sugar load of trouble.