The Biscuit Thief Story

The Biscuit Thief

I love a biscuit. How ‘bout you?

The ones with chips of chocolate goo!

A ginger snap’s also a dream.

So’s shortbread, Jaffa, custard cream.

Chocolate digestives: yum!

Cosy, stacked inside my tum. 

My favourite, though, are Oreos. 

I’d do anything for some of those.

Anything but tell a lie.

My face goes red, so I don’t try.

Which leads me to my story, friend.

So, say you’ll stay until the end.

This morning, my folks said to me,

“Now, Tom, your biscuit limit’s three. 

The jar was emptied overnight.”

I took a peek and they were right!

“I promise that it was not me.

I know the rule. I just take three!

Exactly three, I promise you.

It’s never four (and never two!).

It must be someone else,” I said.

Mum raised her brows. Dad scowled and said,

“Young Tom, don’t try to fool us, dear.

There’s only us three living here.

“Unless there’s goblins, elves or ghouls

Who steal to make us look like fools!”

We chuckled. There are no such things.

No biscuit fairies come on wings.

“Maybe a rodent, like a mouse,

Has found a crack into our house.

Into the kitchen she must creep

To steal our biscuits while we sleep.”

I scratched my head. Thought for a bit.

Deep in my tum, a nervous pit.

“Well, let me say it. I’ll be brief.

Our town must have - a biscuit thief!” 

Some robber comes, that is for sure.

Our situation needs a cure.

My big idea to save us all?

“Let’s mount a camera on our wall!

“Make sure all night the jar’s recorded.

Hopefully we’ll be rewarded.

We’ll know what thief comes through our door

To plunder while we sleep and snore.

“And then you’ll know. You’ll truly see

I tell the truth: it was not me!

I’ll clear my name, for I don’t lie.

Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Fine, then. We’ll record tonight

To make sure what you say is right.”

So then we turned the camera on.

We went to bed and slept ‘til dawn.

But I was startled from a dream

By hearing both my parents scream!

Mum and Dad both ran upstairs

All goosebumps, pale, with stand-up hairs.

We watched the film of overnight

And I’ll be darned – our JOKE was right.

The thing that crept into our home:

A little, bearded biscuit gnome!

“I guess they’re real. We’re sorry, son!

A gnome did what we thought you’d done.

But now we know. We’ve found out who.

We must ask now, ‘What DO we DO!?’”

“Don’t worry, Mum, and don’t fret, Dad.

I’ve read of gnomes. They’re not all bad.

We mustn’t panic, vex or fuss.

A gnome likes biscuits, just like us!

“The best plan is for us to share.

We’ll buy more biscuits. Fair is fair.”

“We’re so proud, Tom. You hadn’t lied.

But...we can’t let a gnome inside!”

“I know,” I said. “It sounds bizarre.

We’ll buy a second biscuit jar!”

We did. And now we’re back on track.

We keep the second jar...out back.

The End