Out the Door

Usually, I think a story I hear about is really cool, then think about blogging about it for a week or so, and then forget about it (apparently most of my stories aren't worthy enough for the internet. But, against said tradition, I'll take a break from my World of Goo playing and type this latest shenanigan down. I wasn't actually here during any of this-I got a first- and second-hand account.

So, after me, Dad, and the other kids leave to go to school at about 7:50. Mom's at the computer, doin' whatever Moms do on the computer, I guess, and she hears a noise at the door. Thinking its one of our housekeepers, she calls their name. When she doesn't hear a response, she goes out and sees who's there. Looking through the peephole, she see's an African guy, Holding the door shut, with another dude shoving our laptop into his backpack. From now on, guy with laptop= Sly Cooper, and guy holding door= Danny Ocean. As soon as Sly's got it in, they decide to run. Why they both run, and Sly doesn't get halfway down the street (path of sand) before Danny lets mom out is beyond me. If they had watched Ocean's Eleven they would have realized that this was not a good plan.

But off they go. Now here's the part that's kind of awesome. My mom isn't a runner. But kenyans beat us in the Boston marathon on our own turf. Year after year. Now mom says they weren't running that fast, but I'm convinced shes being humble and is actually the daughter of the Flash and hasn't told me yet. She catches up to them and rips Coopie's backpack off. Looting through it, she pulls out our laptop, his backpack still in hand.

Now I'm sure she's pretty ticked off at this point, so she starts yelling the french word "vol" at them. What she meant was "voleur". Voleur mean "thief". Vol, on the other hand, means flight. Again, she said it was an accident, but I'm pretty sure yelling "vol" in french translates to: "GET OUT THE WAY." Meanwhile, our guard sleeps soundly behind a garage door 5 feet away. THANKS MAN. Someone ain't getting a tip this month. Mom also kept the guy's backpack. I might throw it on eBay.

So what's the moral of the story? Steal mom's stuff, she be takin you down. And you can forget about leaving with as much stuff as you came with.

- Will


Author's note: this was actually posted a day after it happened, I couldn't finish in time yesterday night. I'm also happy to annouce the cockroach kill count is now at 11, after I splattered the one that crawled out of the sink as I was brushing my teeth.





"But with Benedict... at the end of this, he'd better not know you're involved, not know your names or think you're dead because he'll kill ya, and then he'll go to work on ya."