They're Going to Be Mad

They're Going To Be Mad

         Jerry paced back and forth in front of the fireplace muttering to himself. He stopped every now and then to look at the clock on the mantle. "What am I going to do? It's getting late. I'll have to face them." He looked again at the clock. "They will be home soon. They're going to be so mad."

         He took the clock down from its place on the mantle, to look more closely at it. He put it back and paced some more, "They're gonna be so mad at me. Maybe I'll just go to bed and pretend I'm asleep."

         He ran his fingers nervously through his red hair and looked up at the clock. "Maybe they won't notice." He took the clock down again. It wasn't ticking and the minute hand was lying on the bottom of the glass casing which had one very large crack. He heard a car come into the driveway, and put the clock back in its place.

         "Oh yeah, I'm in big trouble." He looked at the ball on the couch. "They told me not to play ball in the house."

         The door opened and his parents came into the room calling, "Jerry, we're home. What did you do while we were gone?"