I think I might be doing something wrong – Part I.

From the diary of Jack Francis Burton, Cat Burglar Extraordinaire and RUFKM Petty Crime Correspondent.

March 17

I’m a cat burglar, okay?

That’s right I’m a cat burglar, and I’m a damned good one, too. I break into people’s houses and steal their shit for a living. And you want to know what else? I’m proud of it. My father was a cat burglar, his father was a cat burglar, and his father before him was a cat burglar – and they were all proud of it. Hey, don’t you and your big shot Madison Avenue fat cat friends try to judge me! It’s a time honored family profession and in these troubled times, at least I can say I have a job.

But don’t think it’s easy. I have bills to pay, just like everyone else. Plus, its a lot more dangerous than that cushy office job you probably have. Ever get your head stuck in a doggie door, or catch your sack on top of a barbed wire fence making off with some old lady’s costume jewelry? I didn’t think so. And don’t get me started on do-it-yourself stitches, or breaking into veterinary clinics looking for antibiotics. It’s a hard life, but at the end of the day I can sit back and relax in my $200 a month efficiency knowing that not only have I put in a dishonest day’s work but I’ve done something to help society, too. Every time I snatch someone’s flat screen TV, they have to get a new one – which stimulates consumer spending and that is good for the economy.

Bet you didn’t learn that in school, mister fancy college education, guy. I am doing you people a favor by risking my ass to steal your shit .

But lately, it hasn’t been all roses. I’ve had sort of a bad streak and I’m not sure why. I keep getting caught red handed, and funds are starting to get a little tight. All my cat-burglar friends keep goofing on me because I changed up my game a couple of months ago. They keep telling me I’m going to end up in jail, but I say they’re the ones full of shit. Do you have any idea how small your profit margins start to get when you start investing in things like night vision goggles, surveillance equipment and window suction mounts?

No, I have recently learned to rock it old school, just like my great, great grand-pappy did. Now there was a cat burglar. Old Jebediah Francis Burton just bashed in your front door right in the middle of the day and took what he wanted right in front of you. No tricks, no gimmicks and none of that fancy Tom Cruise shit. That dude just rocked it balls to the wall 24-7, right up to the day they hanged him.

I just need to refine a few things, and I know I can get this to work.

I guess it all started a few months ago when I visited my dad over at Larceny Falls, the retirement home for cat burglars. He hasn’t been well lately, so I figured I’d cruise over there with this cool pair of wingtips I lifted from some old fart on the East side. Well wouldn’t you know, dear old dad ripped me a new one. He said I was cheapening the profession with all that high tech equipment. He said I’d lost my cat-burglar roots. He told me I was a joke.

He opened my eyes.

From that point on I knew things had to change. I had to change. I had to get organic and get back to basics. So, i took my father’s advice and changed my approach, recording the results in my cat-burglar diary. Like I said, things have gotten off to a rocky start. I don’t want to disappoint Dad, but I don’t know how to tell him this. It’s just that…well…I think I might be doing something wrong.

But that’s why I keep a diary. I’ll just flip through it here, and see if I can piece it all together…

February 14

It was Valentine’s Day, so I figured this would be the perfect day to test my new approach. I was genius! As any home security commercial will tell you, the perfect cat-burglar victims are suburban single white females, because they are weak, vulnerable and easily frightened. So I made an internet date with a girl, figuring I’d break in while she was getting ready and rob the joint. Then, I’d get in my car and come to pick her up for dinner. She’d be all “Oh my God, someone robbed me!” And I’d be all “Don’t worry baby, I’m here now. I’ll kick that guy’s ass if he comes back.” And she’d be all “You’re so cool! I will totally put out for you on the first date!”

It was the perfect plan. According to Dad’s cat-burglar handbook, you want to go for one of the classic cat-burglar looks. I mean, you have to look the part, or people totally won’t know you’re a cat-burglar and be properly scared shitless of you. Tonight I busted out the black jeans, dirty black jacket, black skullcap and three day old beard. I topped it off with a big ass rock, which I would use to clumsily and noisily break a window. Nothing subtle or crafty about this job – pure classic, just the way grandpappy would have liked it. When I got to the house, I sneaked around to the patio door off the bedroom. I could see her there in her sexy bathrobe getting ready for her date, because she foolishly did not have any blinds in the window. I mean, any sick freak with two eyes could just stand there and masturbate while watching her.

What a typically vulnerable single white suburban female between 25 and 35 with a median household income of $23,000-$40,000! But I wasn’t there to masturbate, I was there to break in and scare the shit out of her, rob the place and them come back for my date, guaranteeing a night of freaky white-knuckle terror-sex.

What could go wrong?

I remembered to follow my dad’s advice and do it old school. I made sure to trip over a bunch of shit as I approached the window, completely destroying any element of surprise. Yes I could have covered my face, but how is she supposed to see my scary burglar stubble if I’m wearing a ski mask? I pitched the rock through the window, making lots of unnecessary racket and alerting the neighbors. Yeah, this was going to be awesome.

Oh no! She had a home security system! What was I to do? Oh sure, I could have properly cased the place, discovering the setup and easily killed the thing beforehand. And I should have looped the phone line so that the dicks at the security company wouldn’t even know anything was wrong. But I wasn’t going for all that high tech shit. I wanted to rob this chick the way my cat-burglar ancestors would have.

This was about getting to my roots. Dad said I needed to get back to the fundamentals and he was right.  I was relying too much on ‘caution’, ‘planning’, ‘technology’ and ”stealth’. Robbery is an art; it’s like Jedi shit. You have to play these things by ear! You just have to feel it, man!

But I guess I sort of panicked. I mean, she did look pretty hot in that skimpy pink robe. And let’s not forget – I’ve been a professional cat-burglar for ten years. I haven’t set off a fucking alarm in so long, I forgot what they even sound like. Are they really that loud? I’m also kind of used to making sure nobody is even home before I break in, so I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. And usually, even after such a monumental fuck up I’d already know the location of all the valuables in the house and could have been in and out in five minutes.  But I froze. And then I ran. To make things worse when I called her from my car, she said she’d just been robbed and was to scared to go out! I told her maybe she’d feel better if I came over for some freaky white knuckle terror-sex. I guess that was the wrong thing to say, because she said when the police got there she was going to report me as a stalker!  Are you fucking kidding me™? Some chicks are so sensitive. She had already been on the phone with Jim from Brinks Home Security, and in a few minutes this neighborhood would be hotter than the surface of the sun. I had no choice to admit that I was beaten.

God damn you, Jim from Brinks Home Security!

This “old school” racket was turning out to be trickier than I thought. Robbing houses without sophisticated moden equipment sure was a bitch. But something about it was exhilarating. It was like doing it for the first time – I’dnever felt so alive!

But still…maybe I needed to hire some help.

Next up, Part II – February 26.