“Good luck, Stan!” Maureen called after him. Stan growled, pulling his balaclava further down. How many times had he told her?? No names when he was on a job!
Scaling the fence of the target house, Stan used his tools to silently unhook the kitchen window. Sliding onto the Formica, Stan froze at the sight of a pair of beady eyes and a slobbering mouth.
The following morning, Maureen blanched at the headline in the newspaper:
CAT BURGLAR SAVAGED BY DOG