That morning began with a firm decision from Dad: he was going to the market alone. No distractions, no delays, no chaos. Just a quick trip to buy vegetables, rice, and a few essentials before the sun got too hot. He tied his shoes, grabbed his bag, and mentally prepared himself for a peaceful walk.
CUTIS heard everything.
From the moment Dad mentioned the word market, CUTIS’s ears practically perked up. The market was a magical place—full of colors, smells, people, sounds, and endless opportunities to point at things excitedly. Going to the market was not just an outing; it was an adventure. And there was absolutely no way CUTIS was staying behind.
“Stay home,” Dad said calmly. “I’ll be back soon.”
CUTIS froze.
Stay… home?
CUTIS blinked once. Then twice.
This was unacceptable.
CUTIS immediately followed Dad around the house like a tiny shadow, watching every movement with suspicious intensity. Dad tried to ignore it, pretending not to notice the small figure trailing behind him. He picked up his wallet. CUTIS picked up a random object too. He checked his phone. CUTIS pretended to check something invisible in one hand.
Dad sighed. “CUTIS, you’re not coming.”
CUTIS nodded obediently.
Too obediently.
That should have been Dad’s first warning.
CUTIS walked away without argument, without protest, without even a pout. Dad felt relieved. Finally, he thought. Maybe today will be easy.
But CUTIS was already planning something incredible.
CUTIS disappeared into the other room, mind racing with ideas. If asking didn’t work, CUTIS would have to use intelligence. Strategy. A special troll method—one perfected through observation, patience, and just a little bit of mischief.
Moments later, Dad was standing by the door, keys in hand, ready to leave. He took one last look around the house.
Something felt… off.
Suddenly, CUTIS reappeared.
But this was not normal CUTIS.
CUTIS was wearing Dad’s hat—tilted slightly to one side. A small bag was slung over the shoulder, stuffed with who-knew-what. CUTIS stood straight, chest out, face serious, and marched toward the door like a tiny adult with urgent business to attend.
Dad stared.
“What are you doing?” he asked slowly.
CUTIS didn’t answer.
CUTIS reached for the door handle and tried to open it, grunting dramatically. When it didn’t work, CUTIS turned back and looked at Dad with an expression that clearly said, Hurry up, we’re late.
Dad burst out laughing.
“Nice try,” he said. “That’s not happening.”
CUTIS frowned.
Plan A had failed.
Time for Plan B.
CUTIS dropped the serious act instantly and switched modes. The hat came off. The bag fell to the floor. CUTIS’s eyes widened, lips trembled slightly, and the most pitiful face in history appeared.
CUTIS sat down right in front of the door.
Then slowly… leaned against it.
Blocking it.
Dad tried to step forward.
CUTIS scooted closer.
Dad stepped sideways.
CUTIS rolled dramatically, positioning the entire body flat against the door like a guard protecting a treasure.
Dad crossed his arms. “Move.”
CUTIS shook the head.
“No market,” Dad said firmly.
CUTIS pointed at Dad. Then at the door. Then mimed walking happily, swinging arms and smiling. The performance was detailed and convincing.
Dad tried not to laugh. “I said no.”
CUTIS sighed deeply—an exaggerated, emotional sigh—and stood up. Dad thought it was over.
Wrong again.
CUTIS suddenly rushed to the corner of the room and picked up Dad’s market bag. CUTIS opened it, carefully placed a toy inside, then zipped it closed. After that, CUTIS handed the bag to Dad respectfully and gave a small nod.
I am ready.
Dad lost it.
“CUTIS!” he laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”
CUTIS smiled confidently. The troll method was working.
Dad attempted one final escape. He stepped outside, closing the door gently behind him. Victory, at last.
Or so he thought.
Two seconds later, the door opened again.
CUTIS stood there—now wearing shoes.
Dad stared in shock. “How did you—”
CUTIS didn’t wait for the sentence to finish. CUTIS stepped outside confidently and closed the door behind them, patting it proudly like a job well done.
Dad covered his face with one hand.
This was next-level intelligence.
As they walked down the road, Dad tried one more time. “You’re going back home.”
CUTIS stopped walking.
Completely.
People passed by. Dad took a step forward.
CUTIS stayed still.
Dad took another step.
CUTIS slowly sat down on the ground.
Dad turned around. “CUTIS…”
CUTIS looked up with wide innocent eyes and smiled sweetly.
Total surrender.
Dad sighed. “Fine. But behave.”
CUTIS jumped up instantly, clapped hands once, and resumed walking like nothing had happened. The transformation was hilarious.
At the market, CUTIS was in absolute heaven. Every stall was fascinating. CUTIS pointed at vegetables, sniffed fruits dramatically, waved at strangers, and nodded seriously as if negotiating prices alongside Dad.
Vendors laughed.
“Very smart,” one said.
Dad shook his head. “Too smart.”
CUTIS stayed close—mostly. Occasionally, CUTIS would wander a step too far, then quickly return, pretending innocence. CUTIS helped carry a small bag, holding it proudly like an important responsibility.
At one stall, CUTIS copied Dad exactly—crossing arms, tilting head, pretending to inspect produce. The vendor couldn’t stop laughing and gave CUTIS a small extra fruit.
CUTIS looked at Dad with a victorious grin.
See? Market success.
On the way home, Dad finally asked, “So… was all that planned?”
CUTIS nodded proudly.
Dad laughed again. “You trolled me.”
CUTIS smiled wider.
Back at home, Mom listened to the story while CUTIS reenacted the entire thing—blocking the door, wearing the hat, sitting on the ground. Mom laughed until her eyes watered.
“That’s not normal intelligence,” she said. “That’s strategy.”
CUTIS bowed slightly.
Dad looked at CUTIS, shaking his head with a smile. “Next time,” he said, “I’ll be more careful.”
CUTIS leaned closer and whispered something only CUTIS understood.
There would always be a next time.
Because when CUTIS sets a goal, especially one involving adventure, no locked door, serious face, or firm decision can stand in the way. With a mix of humor, creativity, and genius-level trolling, CUTIS had once again proven one thing beyond doubt—
Going to the market with Dad was never optional.
It was inevitable. 😂
