How NOT to rob a home

Yesterday, while watching one of those crime shows on TV, I was reminded of a real life robbery attempt that went terribly wrong. Fear not; no one dies, but there was a lot of laughing going on.

Several years ago I had a roommate named Ben. Ben and I were busy playing Resident Evil when there was a knock at the door. We both got up to see who it was, and there stood two men on the doorstep. One was a very large <complete fat ass> man in his forties carrying a briefcase, and the other was a tiny little old man, I'd guess somewhere around eighty. The younger man introduced himself as a salesman and the older man as his father.

They claimed to be selling wine club memberships. Genius plan. Looking back, they probably saw the empty wine bottles in the outside trash can and figured the wine ruse would gain them access. Which it totally did.

Immediately upon entering our house, the giant Fatty McFattykins began to sweat profusely and became visibly nervous. At first I thought, well he's new at this, he's just nervous. Little did I know he wasn't new at being a salesman, he was new at being a criminal. To me, mid forties is a little late in life for a major career move.

We watched as he fumbled with his briefcase. He kept looking nervously toward his dad, then back to the case, then back at us. His fat little fingers combined with nerves kept him from successfully getting the case open, which I know now is where he had his gun. Ben's instincts kicked in at this point.

Ben: What the fuck is wrong with you man?

Mr. McFattykins: I...I..uh...I...

Ben: You trying to rob us man?

The man shoots a look toward his elderly father, who is saying nothing, and begins wiping the sweat from his brow and shaking like a wet kitten. He offered no denials.

Ben: Look here mother fucker, you're going to get your ass out of my house right now before I call the cops.

The duo immediately headed to the door and shot out quicker than you would think a big fat man and little old man could. Their car was in the driveway. Some old piece of shit that, as luck would have it, declined to start. We stood in the doorway and watched Mr. McFattykin's nervousness turn to sheer panic as the car spit its refusals.

Ben: Watch this.

He headed out to the car.

Ben: What's wrong man? Car won't start?

Mr. McFattykins: No. <trembling, wipes sweat from his forehead>

Ben: How much money you got in your wallet?

Mr. McFattykins: What?

Ben: Money. How much do you have?

Reluctantly, the man pulled out his wallet and opened it. Ben spotted the wrinkled one hundred dollar bill, probably all he had to his name.

Ben: A ride and no phone call to the cops costs a hundred bucks, man.

Completely defeated, the man handed him the money.

Ben: You guys can ride in the back of my truck. Give me the briefcase, though. That shit ain't riding with you.

He loaded them up in the back of the truck and headed off.

Here are some fun facts:

1. The men refused to tell Ben where they lived, so he dropped them in the ghetto.

2. Ben checked the briefcase. There was a gun. Unloaded.

3. A hundred bucks will buy a lot of beer.

4. The man left identifying information in his car.

5. We prank called Michael Reed for two years after that.

6. He never returned for his car.

7. We laughed like a couple of hyenas for three days.