The day John submitted his portfolio, the Cooper household descended into absolute madness.
Georgie, in typical fashion, had turned the living room into an obstacle course, claiming he needed to train for "future heroic rescues." Meanwhile, Charlie and Cooper (the dog, not the human) ran around with socks in their mouths like they had uncovered the world's greatest treasure.
Mary stood in the middle of the chaos, one hand on her forehead. "John, honey, I know you're planning world domination or whatever, but could you please help with your brother?"
John, who had been reviewing business strategies in his ledger, sighed and closed his notebook. "Statistically speaking, the chances of Georgie not causing chaos are about—"
Before he could finish, a loud CRASH echoed from the kitchen.
Mary's eye twitched. "GEORGIE!"
Georgie poked his head out from the kitchen doorway, grinning sheepishly. "Good news! The table is totally fine—"
Mary crossed her arms. "And the bad news?"
Georgie winced. "The fruit bowl… is kinda… everywhere."
John exhaled, shaking his head. "I should've seen this coming."
Mary groaned. "Just—just clean it up before your father sees it."
Too late.
George walked in, took one look at the mess, and sighed. "Let me guess. Georgie."
Georgie pointed at Charlie. "Uh, maybe it was the dog?"
Charlie, ever the loyal companion, wagged his tail, completely oblivious to the accusation.
George pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear, son, if you spent as much effort studying as you do causing disasters, you'd be a genius like your brother."
Georgie grinned. "But then life wouldn't be fun!"
John smirked. "You have a 100% success rate in proving that theory."
The gallery was packed with art enthusiasts, critics, and collectors. John sat at a reserved table with his family, waiting for the final announcement.
The host, a well-dressed woman in her 40s, adjusted her microphone. "And now, the winner of this year's New York Fine Arts Showcase is…"
She paused dramatically.
"JOHN COOPER—FIRST PLACE—$10,000 PRIZE WINNER."
The room exploded.
Georgie shot up so fast that he nearly knocked over his chair. "WOOOO! THAT'S MY BROTHER!" he hollered, pumping his fists in the air.
Mary gasped, covering her mouth. "Oh my God, John! You did it!"
George clapped his son on the back, shaking his head in disbelief. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."
John, as always, remained composed. He buttoned his blazer and strode toward the stage with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew he had won.
The host smiled as she handed him the microphone. "John, at just four years old, you are the youngest artist ever to win this competition. What inspired your work?"
John took a moment before answering. "Emotion is the foundation of human connection. My goal was to capture the raw nostalgia of youth—of moments long gone but never forgotten."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the audience.
One of the judges, an elderly man with glasses, leaned forward. "You speak as if you've lived a lifetime."
John smirked slightly. "Perhaps I have… in another way."
The crowd chuckled, impressed by his maturity.
Georgie, still vibrating with excitement, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "YEAH, HE'S A GENIUS, BUT HE STILL CRIES WHEN HE STUBS HIS TOE!"
The entire room laughed.
John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're not helping my image, Georgie."
After the ceremony, private collectors approached John's display. His award-winning painting, The Reflection of Youth, was the first to attract buyers.
A woman in a silk dress glanced at the price. "Five thousand dollars? I'll take it for seven thousand."
A man in a tailored suit countered, "Ten thousand."
Another bidder smirked. "Fifteen thousand."
Georgie nudged John. "Hey. If I say something ridiculous, do you think they'll pay more?"
John raised an eyebrow. "Georgie, don't—"
Too late.
Georgie cupped his hands around his mouth. "I HEARD THIS PAINTING MAKES YOU LOOK TEN YEARS YOUNGER!"
The woman in the silk dress gasped dramatically. "Twenty thousand!"
John shot Georgie a look.
Georgie just grinned. "See? I gotchu, bro."
By the end of the evening, John had sold four paintings for a total of $78,000.
George nearly choked on his drink. "Jesus Christ, son."
Mary had to sit down. "I… I need a moment."
Georgie pumped his fists. "I KNEW HAVING A GENIUS BROTHER WOULD PAY OFF!"
Instead of heading back to the hotel, they dined at The 21 Club, a classic New York restaurant known for its celebrity clientele. The dimly lit, elegant setting added to the night's surreal feeling.
John sat quietly, flipping through his notebook.
Georgie flopped into the seat beside him, chewing on a breadstick. "You're plotting something again, aren't you?"
John smirked. "Always."
Georgie grinned. "Nice. Just don't forget to buy me a trampoline."
John sighed. "We'll see."
Their family had just barely adjusted to their last wave of insanity… and now, things were only getting crazier.