The Pony, Like Farmer H, Would Make A Terrible Criminal

Good thing The Pony doesn't seem bent of a life of crime. He'd be locked up, the key thrown away, and a permanent resident of the Crossbars Hilton before he even got started. Like Farmer H, he is not a good liar.

 

I sent him a text as I left Country Mart, asking for his help carrying in groceries. The Pony is very good about assisting with manual tasks for ME. (Farmer H might beg to differ.) It's a good thing, too, because that crazy cashier put a bag of onions, a bunch of bananas, three large baking potatoes, and a bottle of mustard in one bag! I take that back. In TWO bags, because she had to double-bag them. I swear that thing weighed 50 pounds! I could hardly lift it out of the cart and into T-Hoe. 

Anyhoo... The Pony trotted out, and grabbed my bags. Another contained Country Crock margarine and sour cream, and a third with some pretzel rolls. He also took my purse. All I had was my magical elixir. It takes me a while to get up the steps, with the dogs whirling around in a frenzy anticipating their treat. This day it was old hot dog buns wiped in bacon grease.

I was talking to the dogs as I reached for the doorknob.

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN?

I almost pulled my shoulder out of the socket, and banged my head on the door. 

IT WAS LOCKED!

I pounded on the metal door with my open palm. Not angry. Just bewildered. Feeling sorry for myself. The Pony had just gone inside! WHY would he lock me out? His beloved mother! When he opened the door, I stood there with my most pitiful expression. A facial version of Nancy Kerrigan's "WHYYYYY?" Only not whiny.

"Why did you lock me out?"

"Um. I didn't know that I did."

"Obviously it didn't lock itself. You had to turn the button in the doorknob."

"I don't know how that could have happened! I didn't lock the door. Maybe my phone did it."

"How in the NOT-HEAVEN is your phone going to lock a door?"

"By hitting the button thing?"

"Yeah, right. There's no way that could happen."

"Let's see. I had it in my jacket pocket. Maybe it swung against the doorknob as I came in."

Here's where you must suspend your belief in the laws of physics! And also in the valedictorianship of The Pony. HE WENT TO THE DOOR AND STARTED SLINGING HIS POCKETED PHONE AGAINST THE DOORKNOB!

After about 10 times, I yelled "STOP IT! You know your phone could not have done that!"

"Oh, really? Well, the door is now locked."

I suppose The Pony had turned that little button with his hand while I was preoccupied. NO WAY could banging a cell phone against a doorknob's lock button make it turn.

"I can't believe you're going with that scenario! I'm not mad. I guess you absentmindedly turned the lock. Why don't you just say so? This is ridiculous. CRAZY, even!"

 

"Well... I remember how many times you yell at me for not locking a door."

 

"I have NEVER yelled at you for not locking a door. Dad has. And you have to admit, we prefer to have the house locked up when nobody is home. And when we're sleeping."

 

Like Farmer H, The Pony cannot admit a mistake.

 

SWEET GUMMI MARY! It's not like The Pony forgot to lock a door once or twice when he came home. Nope. The Pony forgot to lock the door when HE LEFT, and EVERYONE ELSE WAS GONE! Also, after taking the dumpster up after dark, and returning to the Mansion.

 

You may recall that we'd been having the mail-stealers, and that guy who kept breaking into a house up by our 10 acres on the hill. With video footage of him roaming around inside, posted on the Facebook page of our enclave. Also, we had people living in a car on our other property until Farmer H pulled a big tree across the driveway to keep them out. And then there was the matter of a STOLEN TRUCK being found down in our woods! Of course Farmer H had decreed that we keep all Mansion doors locked! Even when at home. It did not seem like an outrageous command at all. 

Anyhoo... The Pony will never avoid jail with such an outlandish alibi. He needs a career, but it better not be as a career criminal.