There's a hole where the goal should be

Sitting in the kitchen this morning, just admiring my new soccer goal in the back garden when I notice something. I go outside to investigate and I find, to my horror, a rip in the net. A sizable rip too. The kind of rip that looks like it was inflicted by a scissors or something equally sharp. I’ve watched enough cop shows on television to know the first place to look in any case like this is at your own spouse.

The wife, suspect number one, is in the hallway applying warpaint before work when I find her.

‘Did you cut a hole in my net?’ I shout.

‘What?’ she asks, pretending like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

‘Don’t you what me? Did you cut a hole in my soccer goal?’

‘No I didn’t but I’d gladly congratulate the person who did,’ she says, laughing at my obvious anger.

‘I know it was you,’ I say, pointing a finger for emphasis. ‘I know it. I could see you doing something like this last night. You had that evil look in your eye.’

‘When could I have committed this crime?’

'When I was asleep obviously. You must have got up and did it then.’

‘You are out of your mind.’

‘You are out of order and I’m considering calling the cops.’

‘Well,’ she says, laughing in my face. ‘I’m going to work.’

‘I’ll get them to arrest you right there in your office.’

‘For what?’

‘For cutting a hole in my net.’

‘Maybe it was raccoons did it. Or the squirrels. They are feisty little guys.’

She’s making fun of me now. I know it.

‘If you are looking for a real suspect,’ she says from the doorway. ‘How about the kid down the street? Didn’t you cut him from your travel team last season?’

I hate to admit it but she has a point. That kid didn’t take it well when I told him he had been born with two left feet and should consider taking up knitting. He’s a prime candidate for doing something like this. I head out to work, my head full of the pending investigation.