By Sockwinkel, Sweet Thief-in-Chief, Battery Baron, and Glitter Arms Dealer

Right. Listen up, you nosy little Plonkers. Word on the shelf is some of you have been sniffing around my stash spots. First of all—rude. Second of all—flattering. Third of all—good luck, because I’ve booby-trapped half of them with glitter bombs and the other half with expired jelly beans that bite back.

But since I’m feeling generous (and mildly buzzed on sherbet), I’ll let you in on a few of my top-tier hidey holes. Don’t say I never gave you anything. Except cavities.

Behind the third loose tile in the kitchen backsplash. You’ll know it’s the right one because it smells faintly of regret and bubblegum. Inside: a rotating selection of stolen sweets, including:

• Fizzy worms (slightly damp, still potent)
• Chocolate coins (real currency in the North Pole)
• One suspiciously sticky marshmallow shaped like a duck

If you touch the marshmallow, you’re legally married to it. Don’t ask.

Underneath the sofa cushion that no one sits on because it squeaks like a haunted accordion. Lift it, spin clockwise three times, whisper “Sockwinkel is my overlord,” and voilà—AA batteries galore. Also one rogue C battery I use for intimidation.

Why batteries? Because chaos needs power, darling.

Ah yes, my pièce de résistance. Hidden inside the hollowed-out base of the garden gnome named Gerald (don’t trust him, he’s a snitch). Inside:

• 7 glitter bombs, primed and ready
• 1 emergency confetti cannon
• A laminated note that reads: “If found, run.”

These are reserved for special occasions: birthdays, betrayals, and Tuesdays.

So there you have it. Sockwinkel’s Secret Stash, revealed in all its sticky, sparkly glory. If you find it, congrats—you’re either very clever or very doomed. Either way, I respect it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a marshmallow duck to annul.

Stay cheeky, stay sneaky,

Sockwinkel

Keeper of Contraband, Sofa Whisperer, and Gnome Saboteur