The Great Heist

My brother couldn't keep a bike.

Bike after bike, after motorcycle, stolen right off the porch. One would think it would occur to someone to, I dunno, try a bike lock. But my family has never been known to scamper in the fields of good sense.

One particular morning my sister peeks out the front curtain and yells, "Chris, some guy is stealing your bike!"

My brother comes yelling, nay screeching around the corner. At first I thought he had finally lost it and was foaming at the mouth. As it turns out, he was in the middle of brushing his teeth, but what a dramatic sight it was. In his little boy Fruit of the Loom tightie whities he launches himself full speed AGAINST the door. No...you read that right. He didn't open the door, he just threw himself against the inside of the door, began pounding it with his fists and screaming "noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!"

Not, perhaps, the most effective way to thwart a crime. To this day, I wonder what that little thief thought. He had to have heard my brother beating on the inside of the door. I can only imagine that he thought to himself that he shouldn't have been surprised at finding a completely unprotected bike laying around when apparently its owner was too stupid to know how to work the door.

But a-ha, what's this? It's mom to the rescue. My mother, who had been in the bathtub, comes running down the hallway absolutely buck naked and throws wide the front door. (At the same moment, our male neighbor across the courtyrd has also opened his front door and is pleased to discover his breakfast comes with a show. )

In all her glory, my mother proceeds to hurl high volume obscenities at the miscreant who is has made it almost all the way to the parking lot of our apartment complex with the bike. Now whether he was merely stunned, blinded for life or fearing for his manhood is a point of conjecture, but either way the sight alone was enough to cause him to drop the bike and run for his life.

And so good and naked boobies triumph for another day.