Guess who did the dirty dishes that night?

Last night, I noticed a dirty dish on the kitchen counter. The rule in our home stipulates that whoever uses plates, cups, or utensils must place them directly in the dishwasher afterward, in the interest of efficiency, and as a courtesy.

So I asked the man sitting at the table, next to my wife, whether it was he that had left the dirty dish there. The man nodded guiltily. And so I said, "Who are you anyway? And what are you doing in my house?"

Suddenly, three U.S. Department of Justice employees barged into my living room, brandishing legal papers, and threatening to sue me if I asked the stranger any more questions. They said ascertaining the trespasser's identity was their job. "OK," I shrugged. "Ask him."

"We'd rather not," replied the federal officials.

"Why not? It's your duty, isn't it?"

"We decide what we decide" was their cryptic comment.

"Very well," I said. "Please escort him out of here."

"Let him stay. How do you know he's not a member of your family?" asked the feds.

I told them I knew who my wife and children were.

"What about your extended family? He could be a long-lost relative, or an old forgotten friend."

"Let's ask him then," I volunteered.

"No," insisted Obama's people. "You can't ask, and we won't."

"Dad!" yelled my teenage daughter. "That guy's going through your closet!"

By this time, my neighbors had noticed the black helicopter parked on my driveway. Several of them, peeking into my kitchen, were shouting, "Ari. Leave the guy alone. Or we'll boycott your garage sale next summer."

Guess who did the dishes that night?

Alexander Lee

Carol Stream