The door opened, revealing a police officer and a too familiar tan colt shuffling a hoof in the dirt and looking away from his parent’s frightened eyes. Mrs. Cake couldn’t believe this was happening, her own son had been arrested for- oh, she didn’t even know what he had been taken in for! Loitering, drinking, drugs!? Oh, if it was drugs, he was going to be in so much trouble. She spruced up her mane ever so slightly, knocking out a tuff of flour. “Officer Pelt Skin. What happened? Is my boy okay?”
Pound Cake snickered. “Pelt Skin? Was your father Foot Hoof?”
“No, he was Al Lottery, the head founder of the Give a Griff’in foundation for all orphaned children.” Pelt Skin was not an officer to be messed with. His skin certainly was thicker than most. “Anyways, ma’am, I found your son doing…”
Mrs. Cake bit her lip.
“Homework,” he finished.
Her vision was shattered glass and it fell to the floor. Her own son… doing homework. Pumpkin Cake trotted downstairs, popping bubblegum in her mouth and then spitting it into the cake her mother had just finished baking. She banged her head slightly to the music coming through her earbuds. “Homework!? But where did I go wrong!?”
Pumpkin Cake laughed.
“Why can’t you be more irresponsible like your sister, Pound Cake!?”
His own eyes filled with tears. “Because, I want a good future and education!”
“We don’t talk like that in this house, mister! You go right up stairs and waste time on the internet! And no online research databases. It’s video games or Wikipedia!”
“But M-“
“Don’t make me sing the alphabet incorrectly.”
“AHH!” He fled to his room and his sister slapped him once on the bottom as he ran by.
“I’m very sorry ma’am.” Officer Pelt Skin took off his hat and held it to his chest. “I know you’re trying your hardest.”
“I just don’t understand where he gets those urges to do good from.” She sighed. “You’d think he’d know better on opposite week.”
“Speaking of,” Mr. Cake stepped in to the room. “I think my wife and I need to go have a chat with our son. Officer Pelt Skin.”
“Mr. Cake.”
The door closed. “Pound Cake! I don’t hear the sounds of Facebook up there!”
"I'm Tweeting as fast as I can!"
"Tweet harder!"
Opposite week was not a fun week for Pound Cake. On the other hoof, it was the one week where Pumpkin Cake was normal! Don't do your homework, kids!