The Cookie Caper

The classroom cookies vanish. WC: 259

By recess, the cookie jar was empty. Completely. Not even a crumb.

“Someone,” said Mrs. Bloom, tapping her ruler, “has eaten all the cookies meant for Friday’s class party.”

The class gasped. Even the goldfish looked nervous.

Right away, Detective Sir Whiskers, also known as the class hamster, knew this was a big case. He tightened his tiny tie (a piece of string from the art bin) and began to investigate.

First suspect: Benny the Beagle, the classroom reading dog. Whiskers squinted at him. “You’ve got crumbs on your chin!”

“Those are kibble crumbs.” Benny barked. “Besides, I’ve been outside all morning.”

Second suspect: Mia, the snack monitor. Her hands smelled like sugar.

“It was cookie day,"she said, crossing her arms. “Of course my hands smell like sugar!”

Sir Whiskers scribbled in his notebook. “Hmm. Everyone has an alibi,” he muttered, nibbling the end of his pencil.

Then he noticed something odd- his own whiskers twitched. The whole class was staring at him.

“Sir Whiskers,” Mrs. Bloom said slowly, “why is the cookie jar lid in your cage?”

The hamster froze. Crumbs tumbled from his paws.

“Am I suspect?” he squeaked.

The class erupted in laughter.

Benny barked. Mia giggled. Even Mrs. Bloom smiled. “You’re more than suspect, Sir Whiskers- you’re guilty.

Sir Whiskers puffed out his chest proudly. “Case closed,” he squeaked, and climbed into the cookie jar for a victory nap.

From that day on, the class made sure to bake two batches of cookies- one for the students, and one for Pawsville Elementary’s smallest detective.

Written for: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"