One fine morning in a place not too far away, a little monster was out in the meadow playing ball. Little monster's aim had never been very good. He went to the house and finding no one home. He decided to look for the ball himself. He look under the table and under the chairs. But he couldn't find that ball anywhere. As he was looking under the beds, he heard the people coming home. "Someone's been looking at our house," the father said as he noticed the broken window. "Someone's been looking under our chairs," said the mother. "Someone's been playing ball in my porridge and there he is." They all turned to see the little monster. The end.