“I’m really a very good thief, but I’m a very bad robber, I must admit.” Clyde announced this to a perplexed Morgan.
Morgan, not even turning her attention to Clyde, replied, “what are you even saying?”
“It’s like the Beatles: I can steal, but I could not rob.”
“What do you mean by that. Answer me directly, without referencing dead British people.”
“Half the Beatles-“
“Never mind. I don’t care.” Morgan finally looked at Clyde. “Do you have the rope?”
“Oh yeah.” Clyde stopped walking when he reached the iron fence. He wiggled out of his backpack, then rested it on the ground. He opened a zipper and felt inside.
“What all do you have in there?”
“Some snacks.”
“You aren’t planning on snacking during a burglary, right?”
“No. They’re for after.” Clyde started to tie the rope into a noose.
“That’s dumb.”
“Well, what if we trigger an alarm and have to hide out in a closet for hours on end.”
“You packed some quiet food to eat for just such an occasion.” Morgan examined the long abandoned and dilapidated house. She didn’t even think they had burglar alarms the last time somebody lived here.
“Apple sauce pouches.” Clyde threw the rope over the fence, catching one of the spikes a few feet above his head.
“What’s your plan for going over?”
“I’m going to lay my backpack over the top so I don’t get poked.”
“Good luck.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“You could barely get your backpack off while standing on level ground.”
Clyde scoffed and tested the rope with his weight. Satisfied, he set a foot against the two of the bars and started climbing.
The fence leaned forward almost immediately and rested at about a 30-degree angle with the ground. Clyde struggled out from underneath the fence and wriggled back to his feet. He felt a hand tap his back.
“Don’t worry, man. No plan survives the battlefield.” Morgan vaulted over spikes of the slanted fence and slid gracefully down the bars.
“What Helmuth von Moltke the Elder actually said was-“
“’Don’t care’ is what Morgan Jones the first has to say about that.”
Clyde grabbed a spike and clumsily climbed over the fence. “There were plenty of Morgan Joneses before you. There was an actor in Forbidden Planet-“
“Still don’t care.”
“You have a flashlight in that bag of yours?”
“Nope.”
“You’re quite shit at this.”
“I have great night vision,” declared Clyde.
“I have great night vision,” repeated Morgan in a decidedly less majestic tone.
“Use your phone if you need a flashlight!”
“I’m at like 30 percent.”
“Then walk in the fucking dark.”
“Whoa, whoa man.” Morgan placed a hand on Clyde’s chest, stopping him. “You are totally harshing the vibe of this robbery.”
“This isn’t a robbery.”
“You’re backing out now?”
“No. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I steal, but I don’t rob.”
“Ugh.”
“Robbery requires use of force, threat of force or using fear to steal.”
“Great. Can we steal now?”
“Sure.”
Morgan ran up to house and delivered a powerful kick to the front door. The door did not move noticeably and she promptly fell flat on her ass.
Clyde helped Morgan to her feet. He placed his hand on the knob and opened the door.
“No use of force?” she asked him.
“No use of force,” he replied.
“Hmm.”