When my dad found a smashed tomato in the bottom of his fishing boat, I knew my latest war with the red squirrel would go public.
I was helping Dad winterize the boat and everything was just fine until he held up that oozing remnant of tomato and said, “How did this get in here?”
I swallowed hard and did a fast analysis of what fib I could reply with:
a). I don’t know;
b). I dropped it while delivering tomatoes by boat to a neighbour; or
c). The fish I caught while on the lake had the tomato in its mouth.