As a girl I carpooled with got out of the car, I got out too. We were at a combined rehearsal (a rehearsal with both the Town Choir and the Concert Choir), and my dad was sitting outside.

As we sang inside the building, my dad sat in his car outside, writing his diary in his car. As he was thirsty, he looked for something to drink.

Sure enough, on the chair, he found a bottle of water, all cold to the touch. But how did it get there? Well, my dad had gone skating with me in the morning. That was probably the leftover water.

Without a further thought, he gulped the entire thing down and threw the odd bottle away.

After a nap, some more writing, some reading, some eavesdropping on me, and a lot more stuff, I was done with the rehearsal.

On the way home, the girl I was carpooling with suddenly asked, “Where is my bottle of water?”

My dad forced down a choke. “W-where was it?”

“I put it just on the chair here.”

My dad said, “Sorry, but I threw it away.”

“Oh.”

But did my dad really throw it away, I thought, on the way home? When we did get home, however, I asked my dad. And you know what he said?

“I drank it.”

What really makes this funny is the fact that one month earlier, my mom drank my aunt’s water. I, fortunately, don’t drink anything unless it’s “trademarked” by my ripped label.

I am safe!