This short story is from <Heartwarming Collection of Short Stories for Seniors: 2 Books in 1> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!
The simplest things are often the truest. –Richard Bach
“Alright, who’s stealing my toilet paper?” Helen muttered, staring at her almost bare linen closet. Normally, it was stocked like a mini-warehouse, but lately, her rolls were disappearing into thin air. During her bridge club meet-up with Edith, Marge, and Joyce, she decided to bring it up.
“I swear, my toilet paper stash is shrinking, and I don’t know why,” Helen said, eyebrows raised suspiciously.
“Maybe you’ve got a ghost—a ghost that needs a clean cushy.” Joyce, ever the jokester, smirked. Helen rolled her eyes as the group burst into laughter, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of something odd.
“Laugh all you want, but I’ve counted the rolls. Someone or something is taking them!” she said. Edith leaned in with a conspiratorial look.
“Maybe it’s your neighbor. Bathroom emergencies are no joke these days.”
“Could be. You’ve always said they’re a bit too friendly.” Marge nodded thoughtfully.
“My neighbor?! I don’t think so. I mean, who would steal toilet paper?” Helen looked horrified.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Joyce said, rubbing her hands together with glee. “We need to catch this TP thief in the act. I say stakeout!” The group giggled, but the idea stuck. The Great TP Hunt was officially on.
That weekend, the four friends gathered at Helen’s house, armed with snacks, thermoses of tea, and all the determination of amateur detectives. Hours passed without a sign of the culprit, and the group grew restless. Just then, a soft thud echoed from the hallway, breaking the silence. Without a word, they all sprang up and headed to the linen closet. A second crash startled Marge, and in her panic, her foot caught on the edge of a rug, sending her stumbling forward.
“Look out!” she shouted, but it was too late. Like dominoes, the entire group toppled to the floor, arms flailing as they collapsed into a tangled mess. Before anyone could process what had happened, Whiskers, Helen’s mischievous cat, shot out from the linen closet—his teeth clutching a roll of toilet paper.
“Whiskers?!” Helen gasped. The cat froze for a split second, eyes wide, roll dangling from his mouth, and then, without warning, he bolted. The roll of toilet paper unraveled dramatically behind him.
“He’s the thief!” Edith shouted, her voice filled with shock. The women scrambled to their feet and chased him through the living room as he dodged between the furniture. Suddenly, Whiskers darted behind a bookshelf, vanishing from sight. The women, breathless and on high alert, approached the bookcase cautiously.
“There!” Helen pointed, eyes wide. “Look behind the bookcase.” They peered through the narrow gap behind the bookshelf and gasped. Hidden in the shadows was a sight they never expected: a towering stash of toilet paper rolls.
“Oh my gosh.” Marge whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. “we’ve been outsmarted by a cat.”
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