SECRET STORIES (AGENTS ONLY!)

THE STORY OF BURGLETTE (PART 3)

"Sir," I replied trembling, "I am taking her... She is too small and needs to choose her own life."

Father sneered and whipped Burglette from my hands. He dropped her into a large pocket in his overcoat.

"You fool," he chortled, "it has already been done. She was dipped in the brew just yesterday. Today she is more wicked than even me."

I stared at him, afraid to reply. Father relaxed at my silence and leaned against the black armchair behind him. He drummed his long, skeletal fingers against his coat and looked at me with amused disgust. 

Suddenly, I noticed a small pearly tooth jut out from my father's pocket. Then three more teeth broke through the fabric and quickly closed around my father's fingers. 

"GAH!" he screamed, "Burglette, you unlovable, unscrupulous child, REMOVE YOUR TEETH AT ONCE."

At that moment, I took my chance, sprinting through the door and then down the hospital corridor. My father's angry howls followed me until I burst outside and found a large box to hide under.

Hours passed and I waited quietly with my face pressed into my hands, hot tears pooling at my feet. My sister, I thought, She is done for...

TO BE CONTINUED IN TWO WEEKS AS "THE STORY OF BURGLAR" 

THE S
TORY OF BURGLETTE (PART 2)

Don't think, I told myself firmly, Just do it! Terrified, I slid my trembling hands into the oven mitts and reached my hands into the cradle beside me. Burglette blew a bubble at me and waved her hands happily in the air. 

It only took a few seconds to get too close, however. Suddenly the baby babble stopped and Burglette opened her mouth wide and snapped at my mitts with her teeth. "OOGA!" She screamed angrily, "OOGA BOOGA BOOGA!"

I was ready for her resistance, quickly grabbing the bottle I had brought with me and shoving it into her mouth. It was just then I heard the most horrible sound. Footsteps. Behind me!


I spun around. There my father stood, a terrifyingly tall man with a musty black coat, beady eyes, and wire-rimmed glasses. 


"Burglar," he said frowning, "What are you doing to your sister?"


TO BE CONTINUED...

THE STORY OF BURGLETTE (PART I)

It was not so long ago when Burglette was born. When I visited the hospital on that fateful day I snuck into Burglette's room only to find a tiny fuzzy baby peeking out of a soft pink blanket with her mother sleeping quietly beside her. The moment was so relaxed and so... normal... that I almost reached over and patted the tiny baby's head. Gasp!

I know, dear reader, you are laughing at me, thinking how could he be so dumbfoundedly stupid? Only an hour before a poor doctor had lost three fingers, his bow-tie, one sock (note: not his shoe, which remained on his foot throughout his entire encounter with the child), and a chicken nugget he had neatly tucked into his pocket for a late afternoon snack. 

Needless to say, before entering the room I had glued my socks firmly to my legs and reminded myself to keep my hands in my pockets as much as possible. I also had written five letters to the people closest to me in case I did not return from my visit to the hospital.

I walked quickly to the child's bedside, opened the bag I had been carrying, and removed two oven mitts, one doll, one baby bottle, one blanket and placed them on a table beside me. Burglette looked up at me and cooed. 

"Can I do this?", I whispered to myself, "How can I steal this baby? How will I survive?"

TO BE CONTINUED