Cloak-and-Desserts

I have now seen recorded evidence of the worst burglar ever. Everything that could be done wrong during a break-in, this thief did. Did they use gloves to hide their fingerprints when they attempted to enter the code to my alarm system? Nope. In fact, they still had flour on their mitts. This made it quite easy to locate dusty prints and provide them to the police to run through their database. However, I am pretty sure that I know who the culprit is already.

Next, you would think that if the alarm’s siren began to wail, the crook would have given up and ran away. Nope. Instead, the robber picked up one of the heavy statues outside of the bakery and rammed it into the keypad, security camera, and front door. This action resulted in the questionable person’s appendages being cut by the falling glass and dripping blood on the cement and the inside marble floor of the business. So, now there were fingerprints and blood for the local law enforcement to use as evidence. This case was practically gift-wrapped for them.

However, the audacity of the pastry shop pilferer doesn’t stop here. Nope. The clumsy individual fell over the sculpture that they dropped on the ground in front of them and pitched forward through the fragmented sharp entrance. This person uttered a loud yelp as their cranium thudded on the stone tile. If I wasn’t angry at the damage from this caper, I might have felt sorry or laughed at the ineptitude of this human born without grace. Now the members in blue would have to check this being for a concussion as well.

From here, I observed the still body of this filcher lay and seep their sanguine fluid all over the shop’s stonework. For several moments, the bandit must have been questioning their life and what had led them to this point. Unfortunately, I don’t think they pondered the meaning of life long enough or maybe their judgement wasn’t the best. I mean they had just rammed their skull into alabaster slabs. This was the most literal display of the situation trying to knock some sense into someone. It did not work though.

Gradually, the dazed heister had been able pull themselves up onto their feet, but still visibly shaking and most likely in pain. This time with a little more care, the marauder tiptoed by the remnants of the glass on the ground. Nevertheless, this mortal was either foolish or unlucky. Or perhaps, maybe both. 

If the rustler had been a little more observant, they might have noticed the item that fell out of their pocket when they had tumbled to the ground. Actually, there were two objects, but the individual managed to snatch up one of their belongings. This was because this gizmo had a catchy little ringtone and cat burglar decided to take a call right there. I couldn’t believe it! So now the detectives would have ample evidence due to the finger prints, blood, and the suspect’s voice on camera. Still, there was one more clue that had dropped underneath one of the plastic tables in the dining areas.

I was the one who had found this particular dead giveaway the next morning. After the badges and I had reviewed the security tapes, we all went out to search beneath the chairs and benches for leather proof. It only took about five minutes and I had recovered the tan wallet. When I revealed the name and picture of the lifter inside, I was not surprised at all. For this person’s mission impossible has been to acquire my confectionery’s privileged information for almost a decade.

Now you are probably thinking this thief is probably from a competing bakery or eatery. No, that would actually make sense. In reality, this muddle-headed crook had concocted a fabled history in their mind where they believed that our two families had stolen recipes from one another in the old country. Although there was some truth with our ancestors knowing one another, my grandparents did not pirate their ingredients or techniques from anyone. In fact, my relatives had ended up accidentally altering the mystery element in their tart. 

The story that I have been told is my great-grandmother was in the process of making one of the delicious tarts, but was interrupted by the son of this other family. Apparently, there had been an accident or something. So my great-grandmother put my grandma in charge of preparing the tarts to be baked. My grandma was only six or seven years old at this time and could barely reach the counter. Her guess was when she went to get the stool to stand on, she unwittingly whacked a bottle of something into the batter that wasn’t normally added. The result was an entirely unique and mouth watering pastry that would go on to become our bakery’s iconic tart.

So ever since this time, several individuals in this family have reasoned that if it wasn’t for their great-grandfather seeking help from my great-grandmother that day, then this delectable treat would not exist. They should be privy to the recipe’s enigma and profit from this as well. This is not how my grandparents saw it though.

In spite of the several attempts from the descendants of this clan to uncover the tart’s formula, they have been unsuccessful. This occurrence would be another failure for them as well. I had specifically put a plan in place for just such an occasion.

This robber’s ultimate blunder started after they had answered their cell phone and spoken their identity. While they put the device between their chin and shoulder, they stepped behind the counter and began to go through the dozens of boxes and binders in the cupboards. I guessed that they had grown impatient or knew that time was short, because this is when they stepped into the backroom where my office was.

It is here where I had set my trap so many years ago. I had watched in muted amusement as this ridiculous pillager rummaged through my desk and bookcase. After what seemed to be eons, the purloiner discovered the decoy. 

The unsuspecting person lugged the black box marked with my grandmother’s name onto the rough wood of my desk. Then they struggled with the latch that I had welded shut. Eventually, I spied the thief getting their hands on the hammer that I had left in one of my drawers. From here, they began to strike at the bolt with all of their strength. Beads of sweat rolled down their cheeks by the times the fastening on the box was loose. The glee that I was experiencing at that moment was almost too much to bear.

Right as this person opened the hatch on this container, a trigger had been activated. A small explosion occurred and everywhere was covered with feather, glitter, confetti and something that had the odor of a skunk. I actually laughed out when I saw the look of pure horror on the thief’s face as they jumped back in surprise. Then they quickly left my store much faster than they had entered it.

I am pretty sure that the police will have no problem finding this culprit. There is probably only person in this neighbor that wonderful stench of a rotten egg.