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Peanut butter-finger thieves
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Got an email from one of my brothers a couple of weeks ago, he being No. 2 out of the five. Lives out in Vy-DAY-yuh, in a nice, quiet, older neighborhood not too far from the golf course. He’s a bachelor … but then, so are the other four.

So anyway, he tells me that his house had recently been broken into. It wasn’t a home invasion, cause if it had been, he’d have started swingin’ a 9-iron like he was Chuck Norris. And cussiiiiiin’… honey, that boy would be cussin’ like nobody’s business. That alone would have scared off any intruders.

Nope, a couple of dopey kids opened a window and tried to push a bureau aside. Well, the bureau squeaked (as it does when it’s really old and hardly ever moved — I’m sure it was squeakin’ from the inside out) and scared them off.

He had come home from some after-work volunteering he was slated for and didn’t end up having to do, walked in and thought, “Hmm, what’s wrong with this picture.” and I guess he must have noticed the fresh handprints on the dusty old bureau. Probably knocked some golf balls and tees off it, too.

The place wasn’t messy, but the window was open (probably for the first time in many years — I’m surprised it budged for them) and the bureau was out of place.

He called the local gendarmes who arrived, checked it out, didn’t make a big deal over it because nothing was missing.

He said the cops then stood in the road and gabbed for a bit. Must have been a slow night in Oniontown.

I told him he was lucky they got scared off, ’cause who knows what they could’ve made off with. I mean, they could have gotten a bag of laundry, some microwave mac and cheese, a few beat up old records….

His reply was that his house had been broken into before.

Say what?


Cops figured it was the same kids who had gotten into his house before.

They had managed to take a checkbook (forged his signature and got some cash), his little pistol, and a few other sundry items.

The thing he was most upset about though, was that they took his peanut butter and a loaf of bread.

That really made him mad.

I’d be mad too somebody come creepin’ around stealin’ my snack stuff!

He said he got everything back, even the money that they stole. Got it all back, except for the peanut butter and bread.

“Was it regular p.b., or extra crunchy?”

“Oh, girl, if it had been extra crunchy, I’d have hunted them down myself!”

They must’ve been some hungry little criminals.

I know one thing about people, and that is, do not mess with their food. Especially single men. Do not touch their food. You can take their keys, steal their vehicle, take everything in it and hock it, but for heaven’s sake, if you want to live another day, do not take their food.

Normally No. 2 brother would have a big ol’ bag of peanut M&Ms laying around, too. And I mean a big bag…the 3 pounder you get at Costco. I didn’t ask him about that, because I think he’s sworn them off. Didn’t ask if he had a jug of tea missing either, ’cause that would break his heart.

I was telling this story to my sister-in-law and her eyes got big and she said, “When I lived in Las Vegas, we got broken into four times. Four! The thing that I got the most mad about? They stole my gum! I was so mad. I opened my drawer and my dang gum was gone!”

A friend of mine told me a couple of months ago that she got broken into just before Christmas. Came home from work one day with her son and noticed a few odd things. Saw a broken window at the back of the house and knew they’d been robbed.

The thieves didn’t take her fur coat or her jewelry … but they ripped out a computer, took some picture frames, and the worst thing of all?
“They stole all of my Christmas ornaments … all of them!”

She said they went through the garage and took every container that had Christmas decorations.

Turns out it was a young couple who lived in an apartment complex across the street from her.

The police were on it pretty quick and got some of her stuff back, but not all of it. Certainly not the Christmas stuff.

I told her if she’d left a plate of cookies out, like you do for Santa Claus, that might have been all they wanted.

I told brother if he wanted to catch those little rascals at it, all he’d have to do is hang a loaf of Sunbeam out the window on the end of a fishin’ pole … dab a little peanut butter on it … snap!

Just like a mouse trap.

Steal my laptop, steal my checkbook, steal my golf clubs, steal my 12 pack of Coke. But do not, doggonit, mess with the peanut butter.

Some things are just too sacred.