Bartholomew was red in the face as his father dragged him by the ear into their home. "Look what I found! This young man has been listening the whole time, after his mother and I specifically told him not to!"
The guests stared at the shame-faced boy as his mother rounded on him. "Bartholomew! How could you?!" Glaring daggers at her son, she shot at her husband, "Where was he?"
"Standing right outside the window, completely unaware of the rain, listening for all he was worth."
"Is that why you are so wet?" his mother screamed at him, "You were standing in the eavesdrip?! Why, you...you...eavesdropper!"
The guests perked up at this unfamiliar word. It sounded...fitting, proper. A suitable word for one who stands around in an eavesdrip, up to no good. Yes...they'd use this one again...'eavesdropper'...
Maybe it happened that way. Perhaps it was a more interesting situation, or one less so. So many stories we'll never know. I wish I could go back in time...and eavesdrop.
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