|The House (standard:humor, 4710 words)|
|Author: Johnny Nys||Added: Jun 21 2004||Views/Reads: 2262/1430||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Steve had planned the victimless burglary at his best friend's house down to the finest detail. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Not, that is, until Johnny Nys decided to write his 4700-word THE HOUSE with an hilarious twist in the tail. Johnny perfectly|
The House by Johnny Nys Steve saw the house too late. He passed it, made a u-turn at the next intersection when there was no more traffic and pulled into the driveway. He thought about honking the horn and taking Dean for a drive, then got out when he felt the call of nature he had silenced during half the trip and which rose again now that he wasn't concentrating on the road anymore. It was a nice house, he thought. All main rooms were on the ground floor and there was an attic. Not too big. Not too shabby. Warm brick, wooden shutters at the windows, drapes on the inside. A fresh garden surrounding the building, grass cut short and hedges trimmed. He envied Dean. Living here might be fun. Steve thought of his own house as he approached the front door. His front door was plain wood, not fancy decorated glass. His doorbell didn't work. When he opened the door, it creaked like hell. He didn't think Dean's front door would creak. Probably no part of the house made any sound at all. His own house complained if you breathed heavily. It was a dump. But a silent house wasn't all that great, either. Steve remembered some burgling bastard trying to invade his kingdom; no idea it held no treasure. Perhaps he had considered it an easy target, a desolate street next to the city park where drunks came to offload their last greasy meal. It had been the middle of the night, both his parents on night shift. Steve had been in deep dreams, no thanks to several stray cats re-enacting a scene from Braveheart in the gutter above his bedroom window. The moment the thief had set foot on the first step of the stairs, the whole neighborhood had been alarmed. The man had crashed through the wood and banged his head on the basement floor after taking down a rack full of empty bottles and jars. It had taken Steve three weeks to repair that hole, his parents too busy at work and too tired when they got home, and without any money to hire a professional. But luckily he had been able to grab the burglar and hold him for the police to take him off his hands. In a silent house with good foundations and without rotten wood, the residents would have slept through to find their possessions gone in the morning. Ever since, Steve had wondered where some people found the courage to enter someone else's house uninvited, to steal. You never knew when someone might get up at night for a snack or pay a visit to the bathroom. So much depended on chance, so there probably was more involved than courage. You had to have skills as well. Stealth, most importantly. Agility and speed. Steve wondered if he would ever be able to pull it off himself. Not to go stealing, of course, but to see how easy or how difficult it would be just to break and enter ... although he sure could use the money if he went the whole hog. Steve rang the bell. It was more of a whistle than a real bell. He noticed a flicker in the hallway. He thought it odd, until he remembered that Dean's mother was deaf. He snickered. So rich people had problems like that as well. It seemed to him only the poor had to overcome disabilities, costing them double their paychecks. You never heard about rich people with a handicap, because they had the money to hide it. They could afford all kinds of surgery and if that wasn't an option, they could buy the best equipment to help them through the day without a problem. They could install special electric lines, which made the lights flicker whenever someone was at the door. But Maria was Dean's mother and no typical rich person, so he wouldn't have to act as if she was some arrogant businessman shitting on his employees because, according to him, they didn't like working for a man in a wheelchair. With such a shitty boss, Steve would arrange meetings on the top floor of their building all the time and disable the elevators. Then the boss could ask the window washers to hoist him up, Click here to read the rest of this story (478 more lines)
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