In response to a writing prompt on Reddit
When together, my little brother Charlie and I became hellions. We’d scheme about who would steal the potato chips from the cabinet, we’d bounce on the leather sofas and beat each other up with mom’s very expensive pillows. When it came time to point fingers, we’d always blame on our dog, Betsy. Looking back, I knew mom and dad didn’t believe us; they just found it easier to pretend the lie was the truth rather than scold us about it.