In the quiet suburb of Maple Hills lived the Fernandez family: Mom (aka General Mom), Dad (self-proclaimed Grill Master), twins Mia and Max (age 10, chaos experts), and Grandma Lola, who swore avocados cured everything from hiccups to heartbreak.
One sunny Saturday morning, disaster struck.
Grandma Lola burst into the living room holding an empty avocado basket. “They’re gone!” she wailed. “All seven of them!”
Mia gasped. Max fell off the couch in mock horror. Dad dropped his spatula. General Mom stood up slowly, squinting like a detective in a crime drama.
“Who would do such a thing?” Mom asked.
“Suspicious,” Max muttered, eyeing the family guinea pig, Mr. Pickles, who sat chewing a suspiciously green leaf.
“Mr. Pickles doesn’t even have thumbs!” Mia argued.
“We need to interrogate the suspects,” Mom declared, grabbing her sunglasses. “Operation Guac Lockdown is a go.”
They started with Dad, whose alibi was “standing by the grill, dreaming about ribs.” Not very airtight. But a quick fridge check confirmed—he had, indeed, prepped ribs, not guac.
Next up: the twins. Mia claimed she was “working on her slime business,” and Max was “inventing a robot that does homework.” No avocado residue was found in their room, but a half-squished banana in Max’s sock drawer raised unrelated concerns.
Finally, they reached Grandma’s nemesis: Mrs. Pickleton, their nosy neighbor. Grandma Lola was convinced she’d been eyeing her avocados for weeks.
“I SAW HER! Peering over the fence with guacamole lust in her eyes!” Grandma declared.
“Time for a stealth mission,” whispered Max, donning a camouflage hat three sizes too big.
That evening, the entire family crouched behind their fence, binoculars in hand, spy music playing softly from Max’s phone.
“Target acquired,” Dad whispered as Mrs. Pickleton emerged with a bowl of green mush.
Grandma gasped. “Guacamole! She’s done it!”
“Wait…” Mia zoomed in with her binoculars. “That’s... peas. She’s making mushy peas.”
The family sighed, defeated.
Back at home, Grandma sat sulking, sipping tea from her avocado-shaped mug. Then suddenly—
Mr. Pickles waddled in... wearing a suspicious avocado peel hat.
The family stared.
Everyone turned slowly toward Max.
“What?” he said innocently. “He’s starting a health blog. He needed a theme.”
“Max!” Mom shouted. “Did you feed the guinea pig SEVEN avocados?!”
“Only five,” Max admitted. “One fell on the floor and Mia stepped on it. And I used one to make a facial mask for Mr. Pickles’ influencer shoot.”
Everyone blinked.
Silence.
Then Grandma Lola howled with laughter.
“You little avocado bandit!” she cackled. “You owe me guac!”
The Great Avocado Heist became a family legend. And Mr. Pickles? He gained 3,000 followers on Instagram as the “Guinea Guac Guru.”