“Mom,” said George. “Can I have a snack?”
“Of course,” replied his mother, “What are you in the mood for?”
“Can I have some ice cream with whipped cream and sprinkles?” asked George.
His butt excitedly agreed, “Yes, please! Mmmmm, ice cream and sprinkles! But rainbow sprinkles please, not just chocolate.”
Unfortunately, George’s mom said, “Sorry, George, you haven’t had dinner yet, so how about something a little bit healthier?”
“But Moooom!” George whined, “I want ice cream.”
“I understand you want ice cream, George,” said his mom, “But ice cream is not an option right now. How about some fruit instead?”
George whined, “Mooooooom.”
His mom answered back with, “Geeeooorrge.”
“FINE!” said George, not actually feeling fine about it. George’s mother took a crisp red apple out of the refrigerator and gave it to George, who took it and very angrily stomped into the living room. George sat down on the couch and started to eat his apple. George grumbled to himself, “This is so unfair. I really didn’t want this dumb apple; I wanted ice cream.”
George’s butt said, “I wanted ice cream too. Now, what are we going to do about it?”
“We can’t have any right now, Butt. Mom said not until after dinner.”
“But I am hungry for ice cream now,” argued Butt, “And I think we should go and have some.”
“You want me to go get some ice cream after Mom clearly said no? I’ll get into trouble,” said George.
“Don’t worry about it, George,” assured Butt. “Your mom probably won’t even notice or care.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah,” said Butt. “I really love ice cream. Don’t you?”
George thought to himself, You know what? I really do love ice cream, and I probably won’t get into too much trouble. So, George snuck back into the kitchen and saw that his mother had left the room. He quickly opened the freezer, grabbed a pint of his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream and a spoon, and started to run out of the kitchen.
“Don’t forget the rainbow sprinkles!” yelled Butt.
“Excuse you, George!” said George’s mom, who was now in the living room and had overheard Butt’s remark. George ran to the cabinet, grabbed the sprinkles, and hurried up the stairs to his room. He quietly closed the door and flopped down on his bed.
“Can you believe it, Butt? We are going to have an ice cream party now!”
“Yes! I can’t wait!” shouted Butt happily. George took the top off of the container and dug into the ice cream, shoveling it quickly into his mouth. One spoonful, then two, then three. George was enjoying himself when all of a sudden, there was a knock on the door, and his mother walked in.
“George,” she started, “What would you like for . . . “She stopped abruptly. George stared at his mother guiltily, with ice cream dripping down his chin. His mother stared back at him. George’s butt clenched in fear. Both George and Butt were scared for what was coming.
“George,” said his mother slowly, “What are you doing?”
“Uuuuuuuh,” stammered George, “Studying?”
George’s mom looked him in the eye and said, “George, you are most definitely not studying. What are you eating?”
“Ummmm, I ate the apple.”
“What are you eating right now?” asked his mother. George was stuck, clearly caught red handed.
“Uuuuuuh, yogurt? Cold yogurt?”
“You’re eating ice cream!” shouted his mother.
“Whhaaaaat???” replied George, as innocent as he could. “How did this ice cream get here? Who put this here?”
George’s mom looked really mad. “George, I thought I told you no ice cream before dinner!”
“It’s not my fault, Mom!” George tried to explain. “Butt made me do it!”
“WHAT?!” Butt screamed, offended at the accusation. George’s mom was pretty mad.
“Excuse you, George! Not only are you being disgusting right now, but you’re eating ice cream when I explicitly told you not to. Just you wait until your father comes home!” She took the ice cream carton out of George’s hands and walked out, going back downstairs.
“Oh man, I cannot believe this, Butt! You got me into so much trouble,” said George.
“It’s not my fault,” said Butt. “I’m just a butt. Why’d you even listen to me in the first place?”
“Dad is going to be so mad,” George worried.
Later that evening, when George’s dad came home from work, he went straight to George’s room.
“Young man,” said his father sternly, “I hear you don’t think you need to listen to your parents anymore.”
“It’s not my fault, Dad!” said George. “Butt made me do it!”
“That’s quite enough about your butt, George,” said his father.
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