I think I might be doing something wrong – Part II

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

This is a continuation of Part I, found here.

February 26

My first attempt at refining my cat-burglar skills was a complete failure, so I decided I needed to hire a henchman. All the best criminal masterminds had henchmen. There was that guy in the James Bond movies with the metal teeth. Classic! The Joker has those guys in clown masks who are always fucking with Batman.  Lex Luthor had Ned Beatty. So, I hired a small time hood from the Cat-Burglar Union, Local 341 named Pepe. I told him I was an experienced cat-burglar rocking it old school. Pepe said he was in, and we planned our next hit.

I knew about this chick over on Melbourne Street who always worked out in the front room of her house at night in a tight leotard and no blinds over the windows. I told Pepe she always had her headphones in so we could bust in to the house, take what we wanted and she’d never know. She’d still be doing her stupid Pilates or whatever while we cleaned the joint out. I hooked Pepe up with the standard gear – all black threads, skullcap to go with his scary three day old stubble. We rubbed grease on our faces to look extra badass, and got ready to roll. I reminded Pepe that despite our carefully chosen black camouflage clothing it was essential to keep our faces uncovered, so our spooky criminal mugs could properly scare the shit out of the girl. There was no way she’d identify us to the police, because we’d just make sure to tell her not to. Or else.

As we got to the house, we crept up to the bushes and observed. There she was, just like I said, on a treadmill in the front room of the house. She foolishly did not have any blinds in the window, so any sick freak with two eyes could just stand there and masturbate while watching her bounce in those skintight clothes, hugging every curve of her supple body. Then I noticed Pepe actually was masturbating, which in the cat-burglar community is considered a little unprofessional. What a sick bastard. I told him we weren’t there to masturbate, we were there to break in and scare the shit out of the lady while we robbed the house. After all, cat-burglars are an elite group of expert professionals. Peeping Toms are just perverted dirtbags.

The plan was simple: I would kick in the door. Pepe would keep the girl in the front room by glaring menacingly at her. Since she was a single white suburban chick between 25 and 45 with a median household income of $23,000-$40,000 her natural womanly fear would keep her frozen in place. I would clean the place out, rejoin Pepe in the front room, sneer at the girl one more time and leave. It would be a crackerjack operation from start to finish. A work of art. On cue, I kicked in the door.

Oh no! She had a home security system! I was ready for it, but Pepe panicked and ran. Just like that, there I was standing in the doorway looking like an asshole. I suppose I could have easily prevented the girl from answering the phone, or just gone ahead and robbed the place in the six to eight minutes it would take for someone to show up, but I took off. The last I saw of Pepe was him turning the corner down the street, his pants around his ankles. The jackass had been so scared he forgot to zip back up. God damn foreigners. Trust me – Local 341 was going to hear about this shit. Meanwhile, I had to accept the fact that I’d been outwitted again.

God damn you, Matt from Brinks Home Security!

March 8

This time there was no way I was going to be fucked with. I had to figure out a way to avoid the impenetrable iron wall of another Brinks Home Security System. I decided the best way to avoid home security was to just avoid the home! I would roam around a wealthy suburban neighborhood in broad daylight in my kick ass black cat burglar duds, so people would know not to fuck with me. It was a lovely warm day, so eventually I would find a family having lunch in their back yard. I’d bash through the fence, paralyze them with my penetrating cat-burglar stare and make the family go inside, get all their shit and bring it out to me.

I would stay safely in the back yard, where Brinks Home Security is completely powerless. It was the perfect plan.

It wasn’t long before I found my mark – an unsuspecting family was having a backyard picnic, totally unaware that a storm of badass was about to wail on them. These damn suburban jerks always think they’re so safe in their fancy houses with their fancy cars and their fancy home security systems. But this time I’d beat them at their own game. I’d beat Matt from Brinks Home Security at his own game. I was ready.

Time to dance Matt. You and your fingers on your stupid fancy earpiece, like that really helps you to hear.

Everything went well at first. I kicked in the fence and put on my best cat-burglar game face. They were all terrified. The baby started crying. The women screamed. The men were all “What the fuck!”, but I told them not to move unless they wanted a steaming hot bowl of whoop-ass for their precious family picnic. I was feeling pretty good about myself, until I realized that they had a dog. Before I knew it that fucking thing came at me, all teeth and spit and barking. I took off over the fence, but the dog was too fast. I’m pretty sure it was one of those new ninja dogs, otherwise I could totally have gotten away with my cat-burglar skills. It wasn’t long before the cops showed up and I was done for the day. But that was cool with me. Nobody was going to talk. There is a reason for having scary cat-burglar stubble.

Nobody is going to fuck with someone who looks like that. I’ll be back on the street by dinner time.

March 18

Well, I was wrong. The girl in the bathrobe from last month put it together that the same guy she had a date with was the guy who broke into her house. She must have been some kind of undercover super-cop or something because my scam was airtight. The second girl was too scared to testify, but apparently Pepe got caught three blocks away when he stopped to masturbate in front of another house. That sick motherfucker rolled on me to save his own skin. Don’t worry, Pepe. I’ll be coming for you soon enough. But the worst thing of all is that in the end I found out who it was who had finally defeated me. Me, the greatest cat-burglar of our time – a modern day badass, like Robin Hood and Chuck Norris rolled into one!

I couldn’t believe it when he came to face me in court. Out of all the houses, in all the cities, in all the country it had to be his house. It was Matt from Brinks Home Security. He and his family had been enjoying a backyard family picnic on his day off. So, now I was face to face with my nemesis. Well played, Matt from Brinks Home Security. I fell right into your web of lies. I walked right into your trap. Today you were the better man, and I salute you. But mark my words: I’ll beat you, and I’ll do it not for me, but for the honor of my father, and his father, and the honor of great, great grand-pappy Jebediah Francis Burton. You may think you have extinguished the brilliant flame of my criminal genius but some day I will be free, and when I am you’d better sleep with one eye open, Matt. Because you know what they say about fire. It is really hot, and when you are close to it it will burn you, because hot fire burns!

That’s right Matt, it’s a riddle. I am the hot fire. And you are the person who is going to be burned by that hot fire.

Damn you, Matt from Brinks Home Security. Damn you to hell.