“It Was Just Here!”

“It was just here! Right in my pocket! How could I have misplaced it? I always do this!”

I can hear my dad scream this literally every single day about something he misplaced. Keys, wallet, sunglasses, paperwork, and checkbook. He even bought multiple, MULTIPLE packages of pens to place about the house so that he would never need to constantly look for a pen.

The problem was, he didn’t remember where he put the packages either.

In this particular instance, it was again his keys. Normally, after about several minutes to an hour of yelling about how “stupid” and “dumb” his brain is as my mom would join in on the action by screaming at him about “stupid” and “dumb” he is, his keys would somehow turn up.

We were quite young at the time. My brother was about three years younger than me, barely getting into Kindergarten and my youngest brother was nearing two years old. So as you might imagine, screaming and yelling put us into a state of confusion and shock.

As the situation ensued, we kids would generally retreat into our rooms or do our absolute best to ignore the entire ordeal through videogames. Or if we felt a little more empathetic, we’d help. To us, it was another day.

This time was a little different. The keys were never found. My step-dad had to admit defeat and figure things out on his own.

A few days had gone by and it was businesses as usual. Wake up, eat breakfast at school, lunch, then come home to eat dinner with family. We’d had gone shopping earlier that week for a variety of foods from Cosco but my mom had seemingly brought back some strange type of orange juice.

Throughout the week, I’d always see my step-dad take large gulps from the container, but I never sought out to have any myself. There was something strange about it.

A few more days past and I felt strong enough to hold the large, gallon container. As I picked it up I could hear a strange scratching sound inside. Wow, I guess pulp does that? Something didn’t feel right, so I set the container back down and left it.

Fast forward to the next day, more of the orange juice had been used up and nearing its end. This time, I took the container, angled it towards my eye, and took a deep look inside.

Ladies and gentlemen, we found em’. After days of my step-dad and younger brothers drinking from the orange juice, the case of the missing bag of marbles was found!

Just kidding, my younger brother put the keys in there.

The end.

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