Tommy, a young smart boy, huffed and puffed into the classroom, clutching the Ziploc bag like a trophy of shame. "Ms. Jenkins, you won't believe what happened!"
Ms. Jenkins raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me, Tommy."
"My dog, Sparky, literally ate my homework. I'm not making this up!" Tommy exclaimed, holding out the bag as if it contained the holy grail of dog-inflicted disasters.
A snicker rippled through the classroom. Katie, the resident class clown, chimed in, "Really, Tommy? Did Sparky also write a 'ruff' draft for you?"
The class erupted in laughter, and Tommy's face turned a shade of red that matched his backpack. "No, seriously! Look!" he pleaded, opening the bag with all the dramatic flair of a magician revealing a trick.
As the chewed-up remnants spilled out onto Ms. Jenkins' desk, she couldn't help but crack a smile. "Well, well. Sparky seems to have a taste for literature. Maybe he's a literary critic in disguise."
Tommy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Sparky, the critic. He probably thinks my writing is 'barkingly' awful."
The class burst into laughter again, and Ms. Jenkins struggled to maintain her composure. "Okay, Tommy, you've made your point. Now, rewrite your homework and keep it in a dog-proof vault this time."
As Tommy sat down to rewrite his assignment, he couldn't shake the feeling that Sparky had unwittingly become the class clown's new comedic sidekick. At least, he thought, if his homework had to be sacrificed, it was for the greater good of Monday morning entertainment. Sparky might have a future in stand-up comedy – or, at the very least, a career as a homework-eating critic.
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