a Burglar by Definition [Short-Story]

He was still breathing. This was most definitely not part of the plan…

Jigen McLoughlin was a burglar. He also worked at McDonalds, but this was something he didn’t really like to bring up. Burglar was a far more interesting title after all.

Jigen wasn’t your typical, run-of-the-mill burglar however. What made him different was that he never actually stole anything of any value. In fact the only reason he ever took anything at all was so he could meet the technical criteria of a ‘burglar’.

You see, when you only break and enter, you’re a trespasser. But when you break and enter with the intent to commit a crime (such as theft), then you fall under the definition of burglar. Jigen really had no financial motivation to steal. His family was quite well off, and despite his menial job at the Golden Arches, he did make reasonable money.

He really just disliked thinking of himself as a trespasser, so instead he chose to be a burglar by definition. He broke into houses with the intention of ‘stealing’ things like sugar cubes, dental floss, or the little soy-sauce fish that some people like to save after they finish their sushi. He viewed this ‘borrowers’ mentality as something that was reasonably harmless, and seeing as he only ever took small, meaningless items, he knew that as long as he left without a trace, no one would even know he’d stopped by.

The story behind Jigen’s burglary hobby is a rather simple one. After twenty years of being a quiet and attentive student, he had become bored. He certainly wasn’t a loner in any regard, he had caring parents and a small, but close group of friends. He simply realised that his life had begun to lack excitement. This realisation sparked the flame which led to his very first expedition.

All the residences he had burgled thus far were owned by his Facebook friends (he preferred to think of them as acquaintances). If one of these ‘friends’ was ever daft enough to share the details of their travel plans publicly, then their house would be added to a list of Jigen’s potential field trip locations. Anyone who posted photos of their dogs got their house promptly taken off this list.

After going on these urban adventures for a full year, Jigen had never come close to getting caught. He had planned to keep things this way…

Jeff Brooks was lying facedown on the floor. He was unconscious.
“Shit” Jigen swore under his breath. “Jeff, what the hell are you doing here” he groaned.

Jigen had sat across the road from 33 Edwin Street for an hour, making sure that Jeff had in fact gone away for the long weekend. The coast looked clear. His car was gone, and there was no sign of anyone inside.

With all this in mind, the last thing Jigen expected to hear as he strolled silently through the house was the flushing of a toilet upstairs.

He froze.
“That’s new” he thought to himself.

He remained calm, as when you break into people’s houses recreationally you kind of have to. Slowly, he made his way back to the window that he had climbed through.

Had Jeff decided to go back to sleep Jigen would have been in the clear. But instead, Jeff decided to go downstairs and watch some TV. He couldn’t sleep with this migraine anyways and his head was spinning, he could use a glass of water.

As Jigen carefully closed the window behind him he heard a strange tumbling noise, followed by a distinct thud. He peeked back through the window to see Jeff, lying motionless at the foot of the stairs.

“Well that’s just great” he mumbled.

This was a rather strange position for a burglar to be put in. He hadn’t caused Jeff to fall down the stairs, but Jigen knew that no one else would be around to make sure he was ok. He really wasn’t sure of the proper home-intruder etiquette here.

He reached the conclusion that it was his obligation to help Jeff. He had always thought of himself as a friendly burglar anyways.

After he made sure Jeff was still breathing, Jigen stood quietly above the motionless body of his host, thinking of the best way to handle this odd situation.

Moving quickly, he hoisted Jeff over his shoulder and began carrying him up the stairs. He lowered Jeff onto his bed, placed a glass of water on the nightstand, and threw the doona over him. Now it was definitely time to leave.

Jigen again left through the window, closing it quietly behind him. As he walked down the dimly-lit street he pocketed the guitar pick that he had found on the windowsill. In all the commotion he’d almost forgotten to burgle Jeff.

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