#ReedsyFunnyStory - The Great Granny Heist

*The Masterplan*

It was a hot Saturday afternoon in Namatanai—a place so boring that even the flies gave up halfway through buzzing. For two teenagers, Ricky and Jeremiah, the day had crawled by with the speed of a sloth on vacation.

"I swear, if I see one more 'Out of Service' sign at a vending machine, I’m gonna lose it," Ricky said, dramatically collapsing onto the grass in the park.

Jeremiah nodded solemnly. "We’re officially broke. Like, ‘we-just-licked-leftover-chips-dust-from-the-bottom-of-a-bag’ broke.”

Ricky’s stomach growled so loudly, a passing pigeon flew away in fear. “We need food, man.”

“No, we need a miracle,” Jeremiah replied, looking up at the sky like the answer would float down on a golden pizza slice.

And then Ricky said the five most dangerous words ever spoken by a hungry teenager:

“Let’s just rob someone, bro.”

Jeremiah blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Just hear me out! Not like rob-rob—like, borrow-without-asking, temporarily remove, you know?”

“That sounds exactly like robbing.”

Ricky shrugged. “Fine. But if we don’t do something, we’re going to starve to death. And not heroically, like in some survival story. We’ll be the idiots on the news who fainted in front of a 7-Eleven.”

Jeremiah sighed. “Who exactly are we robbing?”

Ricky glanced around before leaning in like a criminal mastermind. “Granny Mavis.”

Jeremiah’s eyes widened. “Your grandma?!”

“She’s loaded with food. I mean, she’s got this secret pantry that’s like the Narnia of snacks. And don’t even get me started on her apple pies.”

“Ricky, she gave birth to your mom.”

“Exactly. That makes me family. Technically, I’m just reclaiming ancestral property.”

Jeremiah stared at him, trying to determine if this was the dumbest idea he’d ever heard—or pure genius.

“Fine,” Jeremiah said finally. “But if we’re doing this, we’re going full stealth mode.”

*Operation Grocery Grab*

Later that night, the two snuck through the back alleys of Wobbleton like two cats that had only read about stealth in a comic book. Their disguises? Plastic shopping bags stretched over their heads, with two tiny eyeholes poked through.

“I can’t see a thing!” Ricky hissed, tripping over a garden gnome and face-planting into a rose bush.

Jeremiah yelped. “You just poked my eyeball with your elbow!”

“This is harder than it looks!”

Eventually, they made it to Granny Mavis’s quaint little house's backyard, which was glowing peacefully with warm lights like something out of a biscuit commercial. The smell of apple pie wafted through the air like a divine invitation.

Ricky’s stomach growled again.

“Focus!” Jeremiah whispered. “We go in, grab food, check for valuables, and bounce!”

“Got it,” Ricky nodded, pulling a spaghetti strainer from his backpack. “We use this to carry the loot.”

“That’s for pasta!”

“Not tonight, my friend. Tonight, it’s a treasure basket.”

They climbed in through the bathroom window (because apparently, Ricky knew Granny’s house better than his own) and landed in a pile of towels.

“Shhh!” Jeremiah whispered, dramatically pointing a finger into the darkness like a ninja.

But the house was silent. Too silent.

Tiptoeing through the hallway, they spotted the glowing refrigerator in the kitchen like a holy beacon. Jeremiah threw it open.

“YESSS!” he cried, snatching cold fried chicken, leftover lasagna, cheese sticks, and something green that might have been a salad once.

“Check the pantry!” Ricky yelled. “The treasure chamber!”

They were halfway through stuffing canned goods, cookies, and even a bottle of what they thought was expensive oil (it was hair conditioner) when suddenly—

Click.

A lamp flicked on in the corner of the room.

And there she was.

Granny Mavis.

In her fuzzy pink slippers, a housecoat, and a plastic water gun.

*The Confrontation*

“What in the fried pickles is going on here?” she asked, squinting at the two bag-headed burglars.

Ricky froze mid-cookie grab. Jeremiah nearly dropped the spaghetti strainer.

“Back off, lady!” Jeremiah yelled in a panicked voice. “We—we’re dangerous criminals!”

“Dangerous criminals, huh?” Mavis asked, cocking her head. “With a colander full of snacks and grocery bags on your faces?”

“Y-yeah!” Ricky said, trying to deepen his voice like Batman with a cold. “Real dangerous!”

She stepped closer, peering through the dim lighting. “Hold on... wait a minute...”

The boys turned to bolt for the door when she gasped.

“RICKY?! Is that you?!”

“What?! No! I’m... Sticky! Sticky... Jameson!” Ricky said, accidentally knocking over a flower vase.

“And Jeremiah?” she continued, unfazed by the chaos. “Jeremiah Jenkins, I recognize that cowlick anywhere!”

Jeremiah slowly removed the plastic bag from his face. “Dang. The cowlick always gives me away.”

Ricky groaned and pulled off his disguise too. “Okay, fine! You got us! But in our defense, we were really, really hungry.”

Granny Mavis blinked, then burst out laughing.

“Lord have mercy, y’all are the dumbest criminals I’ve ever seen.”

*Granny’s Justice*

“I should call the cops,” Granny Mavis said sternly.

“Please don’t!” Ricky pleaded. “We’re sorry! We didn’t mean to rob you—just raid your kitchen a little!”

“Yeah!” Jeremiah added. “We didn’t even take the good china!”

Mavis crossed her arms. “Let me get this straight. You two came here... wearing plastic bags... to steal snacks... from your own grandmother?”

Ricky shrugged. “When you say it like that, it sounds kinda bad.”

“Oh honey, it sounds real bad.” Mavis sighed, walking over to the kitchen phone. “But I won’t call the cops.”

Both boys breathed a sigh of relief.

“Not yet, anyway.”

Their relief evaporated.

“You want food that bad?” she said, opening a cupboard. “You’re gonna earn it. Grab some aprons. You’re baking tomorrow. And scrubbing my driveway. And fixing that wobbly fence. And weeding the backyard.”

“Wait, what?” Ricky blinked. “We were just trying to survive!”

“You’ll survive my chore list,” Mavis smiled. “Welcome to Granny’s Boot Camp.”

*From Criminals to Cookies*

The next morning was a blur of cleaning products, dishwashing gloves, and approximately four hundred sneezes from dust. Granny Mavis put the boys to work like a general commanding troops in a war against grime.

By lunch, they had weeded half the backyard.

By dinner, they had baked ten apple pies, two lemon tarts, and burnt an entire tray of cookies that Jeremiah accidentally set to broil instead of bake.

“Not bad,” Mavis said, sampling a cookie. “This one only tastes mildly like charcoal.”

“I think I lost a finger joint whisking that dough,” Ricky groaned.

“I think I saw my ancestors when I lifted that pie tray,” Jeremiah added.

They sat at the kitchen table, covered in flour and sweat, while Mavis poured them lemonade.

“You know, I used to be a lot like you two,” she said, sipping her drink.

“Really?” Ricky asked.

“Oh yeah. I once broke into the neighbor’s garden to steal carrots for my pet rabbit. Got caught too. That’s why I recognize dumb ideas when I see ’em.”

They all laughed, even if Ricky and Jeremiah’s laughter was more "we’re too tired to cry" than actual amusement.

*The Legend Lives On*

Word spread around Wobbleton about the "Great Granny Heist," especially after Mavis posted photos on Facebook with the caption:

“These two tried to rob me. Now they’re my personal pie slaves.”

Within days, the local paper had a full article titled “Teenage Pie Bandits Learn Lesson the Sweet Way.”

Kids from school stopped them in the hallway with:

“Yo, I heard you tried to rob your own grandma with a plastic bag on your head!”

Jeremiah just sighed. “It was a stealth hood.”

Ricky nodded solemnly. “We were... misunderstood pioneers.”

Still, they kept going back to Granny Mavis’s house—voluntarily. Every Saturday.

Sometimes for food. Sometimes to fix the fence. But mostly because, weirdly, Granny Mavis was kinda awesome.

She taught them how to bake. How to patch up a tire. How to tell when chicken was actually done cooking. And how to pick apples without falling out of the tree.

“You know,” Jeremiah said one Saturday as he bit into a perfect pie slice, “this might be the best thing we ever did.”

Ricky nodded. “Best robbery ever.”

Granny Mavis threw a dish towel at his face.