If someone had told Dad that his phone would be the reason he missed the strangest, funniest, and most unforgettable moment of the week, he would have laughed and kept scrolling. Dad loved his phone. News, videos, messages—everything lived inside that glowing screen. And whenever Dad sat down with it in his hand, the world around him quietly disappeared.
Cutis noticed this.
Cutis noticed everything.
That afternoon, the house was peaceful in a suspicious way. Sunlight streamed through the windows, the fan hummed lazily, and Dad sat on the sofa, legs crossed, phone held close to his face, eyebrows rising and falling as he watched video after video. Cutis sat across the room, pretending to be busy, but his eyes kept drifting toward Dad.
“Dad hasn’t looked up in ten minutes,” Cutis thought. “This is serious.”
At first, Cutis tried the normal methods.
“Dad?” he called casually.
No response.
Cutis walked closer and waved a hand in front of Dad’s face.
Nothing.
He coughed loudly. Still nothing.
Dad smiled at his phone, completely absorbed.
That’s when Cutis decided this situation required… creativity.
A slow grin spread across Cutis’s face. If Dad wouldn’t look up willingly, then Cutis would make sure he had to. But not just any distraction—this had to be memorable. Legendary. The kind of surprise people would laugh about for years.
Cutis quietly tiptoed to the kitchen.
He opened the fridge and stared inside like a scientist examining dangerous materials. Eggs? Too risky. Water? Too obvious. Vegetables? Dad wouldn’t care. Then Cutis’s eyes landed on a bright red apple sitting proudly on the shelf.
“Perfect,” Cutis whispered.
But the apple alone wasn’t enough. Oh no. Cutis had a bigger plan.
He grabbed the apple, a small spoon, a roll of tape, and—after a moment of hesitation—Dad’s old hat from the hook by the door. He moved like a secret agent, every step silent, every breath controlled. Even the cat watched him suspiciously.
Back in his room, Cutis began assembling his “surprise.”
He carefully hollowed out the apple just enough to hide something inside. Then he taped the spoon to the outside in a way that looked completely ridiculous. Finally, he placed the apple inside Dad’s hat, positioning it so it looked… wrong. Very wrong.
“Dad won’t ignore this,” Cutis said confidently.
Now came the hardest part: timing.
Dad was still watching his phone, chuckling softly, thumb moving endlessly. Cutis placed the hat gently on the table next to Dad and waited.
Nothing happened.
Dad didn’t look.
Cutis frowned. “Okay… plan B.”
Cutis cleared his throat dramatically and said, “Dad, I found something strange.”
Dad nodded absentmindedly. “Mm-hm.”
Cutis clenched his fists.
“Dad,” he tried again, louder. “It’s… moving.”
That got a reaction. Dad paused his video for half a second. “Moving?”
“Yes,” Cutis said seriously. “And I think it knows your name.”
Dad sighed, clearly annoyed but curious enough to glance away from the phone. His eyes landed on the hat.
“What is that?” Dad asked.
Cutis shrugged innocently. “You tell me.”
Dad leaned closer, squinting. The apple sat there with the spoon sticking out, looking like some strange forest creature had moved into his hat. Dad tilted his head.
“It’s just an apple,” he said, reaching out.
The moment his fingers touched the hat, Cutis acted.
“DON’T TOUCH IT!” Cutis shouted.
Dad jumped so hard the phone flew out of his hand and landed on the sofa.
“What?!” Dad yelled.
At that exact second, Cutis flicked the spoon.
The apple rolled.
The hat tipped.
And the apple fell out, spinning across the table and bumping into Dad’s arm.
Dad screamed.
Not a brave scream. Not a calm scream.
A full, shocked, high-pitched scream that echoed through the house.
The cat ran away.
The phone slid onto the floor.
Dad leapt to his feet, staring at the apple like it had just insulted his ancestors.
“WHAT WAS THAT?!” Dad shouted.
Cutis burst into uncontrollable laughter. He laughed so hard he had to sit down. Tears streamed down his face. He tried to speak but couldn’t.
Dad stared at him. Then at the apple. Then at the spoon taped to it.
Silence filled the room.
Then Dad started laughing too.
“You little troublemaker!” Dad said between laughs. “I thought it was alive!”
Cutis wiped his eyes. “Dad, you didn’t even notice me for fifteen minutes.”
Dad picked up his phone from the floor and looked at the dark screen. Then he looked back at Cutis.
“…Okay,” Dad admitted. “That was impressive.”
Cutis puffed out his chest proudly. “Mission successful.”
But Cutis wasn’t finished.
“Oh, and Dad,” he added, “that was only version one.”
Dad’s smile faded slightly. “Version one?”
“Yes,” Cutis said sweetly. “Version two involves sound effects.”
“Nope,” Dad said immediately, raising his hands. “I surrender.”
They both sat down, the phone forgotten, the apple now rolling harmlessly across the floor as the cat cautiously returned to investigate it.
Later that evening, Dad retold the story to Mom, exaggerating his scream and blaming Cutis entirely for his “almost heart attack.” Cutis corrected him loudly every time.
“You screamed louder than that!”
“I did not!”
“You jumped like a frog!”
Mom laughed so hard she had to hold the table.
By nightfall, the phone sat untouched on the charger. Dad and Cutis shared snacks, joked, and replayed the moment again and again, each time laughing just as hard as the first.
Before going to bed, Dad ruffled Cutis’s hair.
“You know,” he said, “you could’ve just asked me to put the phone down.”
Cutis smiled. “But then we wouldn’t have this story.”
Dad chuckled. “True.”
And that’s why, even now, whenever Dad starts staring too long at his phone, he glances nervously at his hat… just in case.
Because when Cutis uses surprises, you never know what’s coming next. 😆
