Best Served Cold

Well…

She did it again…

She took away my afternoon snack. And for what?? All I did was line up my cars in the living room. Were they lined up in front of the doorway to the kitchen? Maybe, but I needed the rest of the space for my city! I could smell the muffins in the oven. They were blueberry, my favorite! But suddenly, I heard her yell my name. She used my middle name, which is never good, and I came running. I found her leaning against the wall, holding her foot “No muffins for you! How many times have I told you, move your cars!” She had kicked my cars, which made me super upset. She messed up my whole organizational scheme, and then she refuses me muffins?? She angrily threw the muffins into the fridge and slammed the door, then she stomped off to her and Dad's room. So that was that. I stomped into my room and slammed the door, which of course startled Booger, who’d been sleeping in a little sun spot on my bed. Mom and Dad thought his name was Martin, but he told me a long time ago that it was Booger. He got up, stretched, yawned, and sidled up to me, tail twirling around my leg. Then he looked at me expectantly, and I knew that we wouldn’t let this indignity stand. We would get those muffins one way or another. And so, Booger and I began hatching a plan…

The first key of any good heist is to lull the target into a false sense of security. If they don’t think a heist is gonna happen, they won’t be on their guard. I resolved to really butter them up for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I came out of my room and went to Mom’s room, knocking timidly. When she let me in, I made sure to look real contrite, and apologize for leaving my cars out. Booger and I both knew they had every right to be where they were, but needs must. She smiled at me and hugged me, and I knew the first part of the plan was falling into place. She suspected nothing! For the rest of the afternoon, I made sure to be cheerful and helpful. I moved my cars and helped her with dinner, not mentioning the muffins a single time. When Dad came home, I ran and gave him the biggest hug, asking how his day went, and helping Mom serve dinner. It went great! Soon, it was time for bed, and the next step…

The second key of a successful heist is to understand the route to the target well and the patterns of anyone guarding it. This was the other reason why I cleaned up all my cars. When it’s dark, I wouldn’t know where they were. It wouldn’t do to step on one and yell, or kick one into a wall accidentally and make a noise. So the pathway was clear. As for the patterns of the guards, Mom and Dad are pretty predictable. The watch TV for a bit, then they go to their room and do what sounds like roughhousing (I can’t be loud at night, but I guess the rules don’t apply to them), then Dad comes in his underwear and gets a glass of iced water, and then they’re in their room for good. All I had to do was wait for Dad to get his water, and then I quietly opened the door and peaked out. To be certain, Booger slinked over to their room and sat listening for a while. He came back and reported that all was clear. Mom and Dad were asleep. Time for the heist to begin in earnest!

I quietly stepped out of my room, being careful to avoid the floorboard right outside the door that creaks, and I tip-toed toward the kitchen, Booger right at my side. The trip to the kitchen went without incident, and Booger took his position outside Mom and Dad’s door. If either of them came out, he would sound the alarm. I slowly made my way over to the fridge and looked up. Here, I encountered my first problem.

One key rule of thumb about heists is that they never go to plan. Something always goes wrong and success hinges upon being able to improvise. In my case, my first problem was that I couldn’t open the fridge door. I could barely reach the handle, but couldn’t pull on it hard enough. That wouldn’t do. I sat down and thought about the problem. The only solution that presented itself was the step-stool in the washroom, but that’s all the way across the living room, and I hadn’t cleared that pathway! Fortunately, Booger always seems to know what’s going on in my mind, and he came sauntering up to me, pushing his face into mine. He told me he could guide me to the washroom and back, but it’d be best to act quickly. While we went on our little detour, no one would be guarding Mom and Dad’s room. I agreed and followed him across the living room. He showed me where to step and I did so exactly. We quickly arrived at the washroom, wherein lay my second problem. I could lift the step-stool, but getting it across the living room quietly would be a massive challenge. After a little thought, and wise counsel from Booger, I decided that I would just have to do it slowly. He led the way back, and I oh so carefully carried the step-stool toward our destination. Every step, I’d set the stool down, gingerly move my foot, then pick up the stool again. It was an agonizingly long process, but thankfully, no sound manifested from Mom and Dad’s room.

Lastly, all successful heists require a certain amount of luck. No matter how well you plan and improvise, luck remains the key to success. I was just about to set up the step-stool when Booger screeched and Dad yelled, “Damn it, Martin! Move your ass!” Heart pounding in my throat, I picked up the stool and scootched as far back into the shadows as I could. If Dad turned the light on, it was over! I waited, anxious sweat dripping off my forehead while Dad shuffled over to the fridge, miraculously without turning on the light, and opened it. I could see my beauteous prize, just waiting to be eaten! I was almost drooling over the thought of those muffins when, oh horror of horrors! I saw Dad reaching into the fridge and grabbing a muffin! One of MY muffins! I was powerless to do anything but watch as he pulled it out with eldritch glee and stuffed into his red maw, ripping most of it away with beastly intensity. I could have cried. That was my muffin, and he took it without a thought! I was so impotently angry, I almost didn't notice when he closed the door, mercifully only taking the one, and shuffled back into his room. As their door snapped shut, my body sagged with simultaneous relief and grief. Booger and I would no longer be able to enjoy the full compliment of muffins thanks to that monstrous display of greed and insatiability. Booger came and curled up in my lap as I sobbed quietly, and his quiet purr calmed my soul. We may not get all the muffins, but by golly, we'll have the rest of ‘em!

I stood up, sniffled, and squared my shoulders. I walked the stool over to the fridge and stood on the top step, allowing me to reach the door handle and open it. Quietly, I pulled and a blast of cold wind like a winter snow storm greeted me. Booger sauntered over and held the door open while I grabbed the muffins and then softly headbutted the door until it closed. Victory was finally within my grasp! I could hardly believe it! I didn't even bother to gather the step-stool as Booger and I walked back to my room, being careful to avoid the creaky floorboard. I softly closed the door until I heard it latch, then sat cross-legged on the floor with my prize, Booger circling me before sitting across from me. That was the most delicious tin of muffins I've ever eaten! Some say that muffins are best piping hot right out of the oven, but I contend that the best muffins are served cold, stolen from under the very noses of angry gods. Come what may, I had my revenge. I was content.