Sasha stormed down the hallway, her pink nightgown billowing with every heavy step. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the apartment, nostrils flaring. She had been looking forward to her triple-chocolate fudge ice cream all day, but when she opened the freezer—nothing. Someone had taken it.

Now, she was on a mission.

She shoved open the bedroom door, and as she stepped forward—THUMP!

Her wide hips wedged firmly in the doorway. She growled, pushing forward, her arms gripping the doorframe. The wood creaked, but Sasha didn’t budge.

"WHICH ONE OF YOU FAT F@#%$ TOOK MY ICE CREAM?!" she roared, her voice echoing through the apartment.

From the living room, her equally massive and guilty-looking friends— Anne, Marcy, froze mid-spoonful. A single drop of melted ice cream slid down Tina’s chin as they locked eyes with their stuck, furious leader.

Marcy gulped. "Uh... would you believe the fridge ate it?"

Sasha gritted her teeth and wiggled furiously, trying to get free. The doorway groaned. Carla whispered to Tina, "If she gets loose, we're dead."

"Run," Tina whispered back.

And just as they scrambled to escape, CRACK!—the doorframe splintered, and Sasha burst through with a victorious POP!.

"GET BACK HERE!"

The apartment shook as the chase began.

And in the end, Sasha did get her ice cream back... but only after demanding they buy her three new tubs as an apology.

Moral of the story? Never mess with Sasha’s snacks.