The precious gem chunklett of Marie L'escargot was sitting there in the jewel museum like a sitting duck, waiting for pluckings. Cat burglary is my forte. And I ain't talking about burgers.
I'm talking about Jewel heists.
The plan was audacious and hopeful.
Once I'd have the chucklett in my hands I'd be rich beyond my wildest dreams. I could finally buy a table saw. And once I have a table saw, I can make handmade crafts and sell them at flea markets for hundreds of dollars, thereby making me a millionaire.
I could practically taste the money in my mouth. And I ain't talking about burgers.
So then what is a cat burgler? He who stealthily steals gems and jewels and golden treasures under the cloak of night. Dressed like his favorite cat. Mine's Garfield. Who's yours? If you say Heathcliff you really shouldn't. No one should.
So there I was on the roof of the museum, cutting a hole in the skylight with my laser knife when all of a sudden a flood light shone from above. Copper chopper!
"FREEZE! WITH YOUR HANDS UP! LET US SEE YOUR HANDS! LETTUCE CHEESE YOUR HAMS. AND WE AIN'T TALKIN' BOUT BURGERS!"
To be continued...