This is a continuation of Part I, found here.

February 26

Pepe and I were ready to rock.

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.

Foiled again.

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.

Damn you, Matt from Brinks Home Security!

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

Don't lie. YOU didn't see the dog at first either.

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.

Fucking dogs.

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.

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?

Grandpappy Burton, the greatest cat-burglar of the 1880s.

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.

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?

How was I supposed to know she had a phone?

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.