Dilemma of the Dishes

Tonight played host to a great escapade. It was the dilemma of the dishes. We had pizza. Nobody picked up their dishes afterwards, so finally, mom put her foot down. Except not, 'cause she was already sitting down. Anyway, she demanded that we each put our dishes away. So she pointed at a random plate and told Steph to take it to the kitchen. Which she did, even though I'm pretty sure it was mine. (I'm certainly not complaining.) She grabbed the next plate and shoved it at me to take to the kitchen. After a moment of inspection, I declared it to be Steph's. (Who else leaves all the cheese and peperoni in a pile on the plate after the actual pizza is gone?) So mom called her over to take care of it, and sent me after the last plate, which was sitting on the couch with a pop can, presumably mine. I took them and walked to the kitchen, before i realized that those also weren't mine. So I went back to the living room, dropped them on the couch, and laid the blame for that particular set on mom. I sat down on the couch, she cracked up. Then asked me where my dishes were.

In the den....