Diamond Heist
Listen, guys, I’m really flattered. But I have to RSVP “no” to your diamond heist. Really, good luck with it, but we all know I’d only mess things up.
First off, this master of disguise reputation I’ve somehow gotten is a big exaggeration. Yes, I’m pretty good at disguises, but I’m no master. I’m more of a moustache-and-fake-nose kind of guy. Heck, I don’t even know where my spirit gum is at this point.
Second, I’m pretty physically bumbling. I’d probably just drop all the diamonds down a sewer drain or something. And, then you’d all be mad at me. Or, if there were explosives involved, I would be the guy who tripped and blew himself up unexpectedly. I know you think I won’t because I just said that and it would be too ironic, but I assure you I would.
Also, your email mentioned something about zip-lining. I’m afraid of heights. Like tinkle-my-pants afraid of heights. Are you stuck on zip-lining, because I do much better with tunneling. But, I know that Mitch is claustrophobic, so that wouldn’t work out.
Also, my nephew is getting baptized that afternoon, so I’d have to be done with the heist by 2pm. And, I know you said that it’s clocked in to take 178 seconds maximum before the backup security lasers kick in, but what if something goes wrong and we have to take hostages? Fingers crossed we wouldn’t, but like I said, I’m pretty bumbling, and if something were to go wrong… Hostages are a pain in the ass, you guys. They take, like, forever.
Also also, it’s way to hot out for ski masks. Have you guys thought about rescheduling this heist for the fall? I might be able to psyche myself up for it by then. My fall is pretty free at this point, except for a wedding in October.
I don’t know; that’s all I’ve got right now. I know it doesn’t seem like enough for a definite no to your heist, but I have to listen to my gut here. And, my gut is saying, “Andy, you just don’t have time in your schedule for another project right now.”
Anyway, good luck with your diamond heist. I hope you steal a lot of really nice diamonds.
Dog Sweaters
This morning, I stole a sweater off of a weimaraner. It was a mint green cable knit. It was nicer than most of my sweaters, but it wore a little snug in the shoulders. On me it was snug; it seemed fine on the weimaraner.
My morning walk was freezing. I'd misheard the weather report, and I had on only a flannel button-down and my fall jacket. That’s when I passed a weimaraner wearing that fancy sweater. It’s easy to steal from dogs. I just rubbed its belly until it rolled over, and I slipped off the knitwear.
Its owner never noticed. He was on his Blackberry.
Like I said, the weimaraner’s sweater was nice. I thought at the time it was cashmere, but someone later told me it was chenille. (I’m not dumb; I just invert words sometimes.) The sweater wasn’t very warm, though. On my body, it fit more like an open-front vest. So, I stole another dog sweater.
The second one was off a greyhound. It was tan with gray accents. Not the sweater; the dog. Its sweater was purple with a cowl neck and an oversized argyle. I slipped that one and the weimaraner’s sweater over my sleeves as a kind of a makeshift dancer’s shrug. It cut the cold, but by then I had gotten a taste for crime.
I went around the rest of the day stealing dog sweaters, one at a time. I called in sick to work. I think they heard the el train in the background, but I was too busy casing my next mark to worry about it. There was a dachshund hanging around the edges of a dog park near the Natural History Museum. It had on a red Christmas-y wool. I thought it might make a good scarf. I was right.
After that was a borzoi wearing an orange cardigan. Then a boxer with a black crew. A corgi in a turtleneck. You might think I’d feel bad stealing from dumb, defenseless animals. But, like a lot of criminals, I began to resent my victims for being so innocent, so trusting. They’d just sit there. Especially when I said, “Sit.”
It was all so easy. A bit of kibble here, a scratch behind the ear there—like taking candy from a baby. Except the candy was sweaters, and the babies were dogs. Only a poodle/spaniel mix gave me any problems, but I distracted it with peanut butter on the roof of its mouth. I’m wearing its blue V neck over my left pant leg as we speak.
Now, at the end of the day, I stand before you clothed head-to-toe in dog sweaters. All shapes, all sizes. Tiny pom poms jangle at my wrist. Embroidered bones and fire hydrants dot across my waist. Mostly designer labels, and almost all of them the latest styles. I’m sure my outfit right now cost more than my wedding suit.
The back of my knees itch like crazy. I think that damn Scottie had flees. But, it was worth it. I’m warm and content, euphoric in my ill-gotten gains. I feel like I could do anything right now.
Though, for some reason, all I want is to dig under my neighbor’s fence and shut up that goddamn alley cat. I hate that goddamn cat.
While You Were Out
Boss,
I couldn’t find any “While You Were Out” memo pads, so I’m writing this on paper towel. Sorry it’s so wet.
Someone named Henry called at around 5:30 last Tuesday. I forgot about it until just now. Anyway, he said it was an emergency, and he left his cell number. I’m almost positive it started with a six.
He said it had something to do with an important contract. Or, maybe contact? And, there was something about a judge or judging or judgment. No wait, it was definitely “Federal Judge Something-or-other.” Pretty definitely sure. Maybe.
Um, also Henry said you should avoid going to your apartment. There might be FDI agents there? I don’t know what an FDI agent is. Is it like an FBI agent? That would make more sense. Henry seemed really nervous about that part. He wanted you to call him right away. Last Tuesday.
His name might have been Benny, instead. I couldn’t really hear him, because I had the music going pretty loud in the office.
Anyway, you should call him back if you have his number. I can probably think of another digit or two if you really need it.
Let me know when you get this. I haven’t seen you since last week. Are you out sick or something? Also, the newspaper keeps calling for you. Something about an indictment? Or indictments? Indicting?
Oh yeah, and I’ll be out tomorrow for a dentist’s appointment.
—Andy