Two things to know about the Fairchild family for purposes of this story. One, our house is a wreck. We are not the best housekeepers during the best of times. But now, between years of WTF Disease, holidays, a monster virus that recently attacked us all, and life in general, our house is a mess. Two, there are burglars in our neighbhorhood. Burgling. For a couple of weeks now, mostly at night when residents are in their beds. We are not panicked, but we are a bit uneasy. (Truth be told, the messy house panics me more than the burglars right now.) Oh, maybe there’s a third thing to know about us: we’re nuts.
Jif informs us, “They’re taking mostly laptops, credit cards and video game equipment.”
Looking around, I say, “Good luck to any burglars that get in here! They won’t be able to find anything.”
“Or maybe they will. Hey, maybe they’ll find some of the stuff we’ve misplaced!”
This inspires me. “Maybe we can make a deal with them . . . they can tidy up while they’re pilfering. Like, ‘OK, you can have the laptop, and I’ll throw in the portable DVD player if you’ll take this pile of boxes out with you, too…’”
Jif ponders their fate, “It’s really not safe for them in here. I mean, we know where the hazardous areas are, but an unsuspecting burglar is liable to trip over a stack of magazines and hurt himself!”
“That’s all we need, to be sued by a burglar who broke his neck just trying to do his job…”
“Can they DO that?” LG chimes in.
“Well, YEA (sounds like DUH),” I educate my child. (Sounding all legal-like) “If the conditions of our domicile impede the man’s ability to perform his job in a reasonable and customary manner . . . that’s on US!”
“No way . . .” The kid is on to us, now.
Jif is philosophical. “We really have nothing to worry about. They’ll step one foot inside, take a look around and say, ‘Damn! Someone’s already been here!’”
“Yea…it’s sad, really. Poor burglar would go to all that trouble to get in, and then just sit right down and cry in frustration…”
“We’ll hear them in the night. One of us will wake up and go, (stage whispering) ‘What’s that sound?! Do you hear that?! It sounds like someone . . . it’s someone . . . sobbing! Call 9-1-1!”