The Great Biscuit Heist

Tommy and his best mate Leo had a mission to steal Grandma’s biscuits. Not just any biscuits. The legendary chocolate-dipped, sprinkle-covered, caramel-filled biscuits that Grandma only made for special occasions. But Tommy and Leo were not waiting for a special occasion. They were hungry now. The problem was that Grandma was the ultimate Biscuit Guardian. She had a sixth sense for snack thieves, a radar for rustling wrappers, and the ears of a hawk when it came to biscuit tins opening. No one had ever successfully stolen a biscuit and lived to tell the tale. But Tommy had a plan.

Step one was to distract Grandma. Leo had the job of asking her the longest question in history. He marched into the kitchen and said, "Grandma, if I had three apples and gave one to a monkey, but then the monkey traded it for a banana, but then the banana got eaten by a giraffe, and then the giraffe—" "Wait, what?" Grandma frowned. "What does a giraffe have to do with your maths homework?" While she was distracted, Tommy crept toward the biscuit tin.

Step two was stealth mode. He tiptoed across the kitchen, moving as silent as a ninja. The tin was sitting right there on the counter, gleaming in the light. His fingers reached for the lid. "Tommy." He froze. Grandma had not moved. She was still looking at Leo, but somehow she knew. "Uh, yes, Grandma?" "You are thinking about biscuits, aren’t you?" "Me? Biscuits? Nooo." He laughed nervously. "I was just admiring the counter." Grandma gave him the look. The look that saw straight into his soul.

Tommy gulped. Time for step three. The emergency backup plan. Before Grandma could say another word, Leo screamed. "SPIDER. AHHH. IT IS ON YOUR SHOULDER." Grandma gasped and leapt back. Tommy seized his chance. His hand shot forward, grabbed a biscuit, and stuffed it into his mouth just as Grandma spun around. "You little rascal," she said, shaking her head.

Tommy grinned, cheeks full of caramel and chocolate. "Worth it." Grandma sighed and opened the tin. "Next time, just ask. I made extra." Tommy and Leo stared. All that planning. All that effort. They could have just asked. They looked at each other, then at the biscuits, then back at each other. "Nah, the heist was more fun." Grandma chuckled and slid the tin towards them. "Just do not make a habit of it."

But just as Tommy reached for another biscuit, a deep voice rumbled from the doorway. "What’s all this, then?" The boys froze. It was Grandad. Now, if Grandma was the ultimate Biscuit Guardian, then Grandad was the Biscuit Enforcer. He was the one who counted how many were left in the tin, who knew exactly which biscuits had been eaten, and who could sniff out a stolen treat from the other side of the house.

Tommy swallowed the last of his stolen biscuit before Grandad could notice. Grandad strode into the kitchen, eyeing the scene. "You boys weren’t trying to pull a fast one on Grandma, were you?" Tommy shook his head vigorously. "Nope! Just... um... having a friendly chat about maths!" Leo nodded quickly. "Yeah! Maths! You know... the thing with numbers and... equations and stuff!" Grandad narrowed his eyes. "Hmm. Funny thing, that. Because I distinctly remember leaving exactly twelve biscuits in that tin earlier. And now..." He opened the tin slowly, peering inside. "There are only eleven."

Leo coughed. "Well, you see... um... numbers change sometimes?" Grandad crossed his arms. "Numbers don’t just change. Somebody nicked a biscuit." He turned to Grandma. "You know what this means." Grandma nodded solemnly. "A Biscuit Trial." Tommy’s stomach dropped. A Biscuit Trial? That sounded serious.

Grandma pulled out two blindfolds and a mystery plate from the cupboard. She placed a biscuit on it and slid it in front of Tommy and Leo. "If you boys are innocent, then you should be able to tell me exactly what kind of biscuit this is—without seeing it. If you can’t, then you’ve been eating biscuits behind my back, and you’ll be banned from them for a whole week." Tommy gasped. A whole week without biscuits? That was basically a lifetime.

Leo whispered. "We’re doomed." Tommy gulped and reached for the mystery biscuit. He sniffed it carefully. It smelled like chocolate. Or was it caramel? Maybe both? He took a tiny bite. It was crunchy, but also a bit chewy in the middle.

Leo took his turn, nibbling cautiously. He winced. "I think... it’s a triple-choc caramel crunch?" Grandma raised an eyebrow. "Final answer?" Tommy bit his lip. He wasn’t sure... but he had to go for it. "Yes." Grandma grinned. "Correct!" Tommy and Leo cheered. They had passed the Biscuit Trial.

Grandad huffed. "Lucky guess." But he winked at Tommy as he grabbed a biscuit for himself. Grandma laughed and handed the boys two more biscuits each. "Go on, then. You earned it." As Tommy and Leo munched happily, Tommy nudged Leo. "Next time, we go for the jam tarts." Leo smirked. "Now that’s a real challenge." Grandad’s voice boomed from across the kitchen. "I HEARD THAT!" And just like that, the next great heist had begun.