Chapter 14
Honesty Over Judgment: Drop the Stones
Sunday in Waterford dawned with a crisp blue sky and a sense of possibility—at least until the mayor announced "Judgment-Free Sunday," which, ironically, was met with a flood of opinions. The cows were meditating in the pasture, the mayor's squirrel was leading a support group for misunderstood rodents, and the BK Lounge had replaced its "Common Sense Required" sign with a new one: "No Stones, Just Scones."
Colonel Mustard and Lieutenant Pickle arrived to find the regulars in heated debate. Mrs. Peabody was loudly critiquing the mayor's new hat ("It's more of a suggestion than a statement"), while Chad the cashier was apologizing profusely for accidentally giving someone two sugars instead of one. The air was thick with judgment disguised as concern.
Mustard sighed and stood on a chair, clearing his throat to command attention. "People of Waterford, drop the stones! The loudest critics are often the most afraid to look in the mirror. True strength is in admitting your own flaws and loving others in spite of theirs."
Pickle, ever the wit, added, "Besides, if you throw stones in Waterford, you're likely to hit a cow or a squirrel. And trust me, you don't want that on your conscience."
Pelosi with the Clues appeared, holding a mirror and a tray of freshly baked scones. "Real justice is compassion," she said softly. "If you think heaven is only for the unbroken, you'll be lonely at the party. The real test isn't how perfectly you judge, but how deeply you can love."
The mayor, catching the mood, stepped forward with a sheepish smile. "Alright, alright. No more judgment today. Instead, I'm handing out scones instead of citations. If you don't like my hat, just say so. But say it kindly—and maybe offer a better one."
Mrs. Peabody blushed, a rare softness in her voice. "It's not so bad, really. Maybe a feather would help."
The room filled with laughter, the air lighter than it had been in weeks. Even the cartel cats, lounging near the jukebox, seemed to purr in approval.
Mustard turned to Pickle. "Honesty over judgment, Lieutenant. We're all a little cracked, but that's how the light gets in."
Pickle grinned and pulled out his ukulele. "Sir, I think it's time for a tune."
Parody Song:
"Let It Scone"
(To the tune of "Let It Be" by The Beatles)
When I find myself in times of trouble,
Colonel Mustard comes to me,
Speaking words of wisdom, let it scone.
And in my hour of judgment,
Mrs. Peabody's throwing stones,
But there will be an answer, let it scone.
Let it scone, let it scone, let it scone, let it scone,
Whisper words of kindness, let it scone.
And when the broken-hearted people
Living in the world agree,
There will be an answer, let it scone.
For though they may be parted, there is
Still a chance that they will see,
There will be an answer, let it scone.
Let it scone, let it scone, let it scone, let it scone,
Whisper words of kindness, let it scone.
As the last note faded, the townsfolk clapped, the cows mooed approvingly from outside, and the mayor's squirrel attempted to juggle three scones—though with limited success, resulting in a flurry of crumbs and delighted laughter.
Mustard raised his mug. "Here's to honesty, compassion, and the courage to love—cracks and all."
Pickle nodded. "And to never judging a hat by its cover."
The mayor, now sporting a slightly feathered hat, smiled warmly. "Maybe next time, we'll have a 'Kindness Over Criticism' day."
Mrs. Peabody chuckled. "I'll bring the scones."
Because in Waterford, the only stones worth throwing are the ones you use to build a kinder world.
Colonel Mustard's Clue:
Before you throw a stone, check your own windows. And maybe try a scone instead.
Would you like me to continue with Chapter 15, inspired by "Parenting Is Messy—Embrace It"?