(With due credit for the
original idea given to Mort Walker, of the Beetle Bailey cartoon fame.”
As
his trained eyes swept the terrain in front of him, a soft voice from behind
asked, “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Relax. What could go wrong?”
“We
could get caught.”
He
glanced back at his companion on this mission.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, you know.”
“So
you’ve said.”
“Chill! We’ll be in and out before
anyone knows we were anywhere in the vicinity.”
“I’ve
heard that one before,” was muttered back.
“You
coming, or are you just going to sit there whining while I do all the work?”
“I’m
coming, I’m coming.” But it was said with
a definite grumble.
His
companion finally grinned. “This next
stretch is a little tricky as its open ground from here to the lilac bush at
the corner of the house. Everyone should
be busy elsewhere, but keep your eyes peeled.”
“Yeah,
yeah,” the other man muttered, but dutifully scanned the yard between where
they were, alongside the barn, to the house fifty feet in front of them.
Deciding
that the coast was indeed clear, the pair hurried across and slipped into the
small space between the bush and the house, once more fairly well hidden from
view. But they both remained quiet and
still for several minutes just to be sure that they hadn’t been spotted. Finally, the first young man touched his
reluctant companion’s shoulder. “Great,”
he whispered. “The window is open. That will save some time.”
The
other young man took a peek. “I still
don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Will
you relax? Eesh. I can’t believe you’re being such a wimp.”
“I’m
not a wimp,” his companion snapped back, before lowering his eyes
slightly. “Just don’t want to think
about what will happen if we get caught,” he admitted.
His
friend gave him a quick grin. “But that
just adds to the excitement of the whole thing,” he said brightly. It only caused his companion’s frown to
deepen. “Tell you what. You only have to go as far as the next bush
by the window. I’ll slip in, grab the
objective, and be back out in a flash.”
His friend still wasn’t looking too confident. But he nodded and the pair once more scanned
the surrounding terrain. Finding
everything still clear they scooted to the next bush, which was just outside
the open window into the house.
There
they again waited, listening for any movement from inside. Hearing nothing, the first young man took a
quick peek inside and then ducked back.
“The coast is clear. This should
only take a minute.”
His
friend still looked skeptical. “Heard that one before, too.”
“Piece
of cake,” was whispered back, followed by an almost giggle.
“Eesh,”
it was the second man’s turn to mutter.
At
first it seemed that everything was going to be just fine. The mission leader took another peek before a
quick hop had him on the windowsill, and he slipped out of sight inside the
room. His cautious friend waited a
couple of seconds before sidling over to the edge of the window and peeking in himself.
This
was the kitchen of the house.
Appliances, sinks, and countertops were arranged around the walls of the
spacious room, with a fairly good-sized worktable with solid sides running down
the middle of the area. The first man
was flattened against the window side of the table, keeping low as he worked
his way toward the far end. His
objective was lying on a tray at that end.
There
hadn’t been a bit of sound from anywhere in the house so the first young man
was feeling even more confident than he had been already. He sent a wink back toward where the second
man kept a cautious watch outside the window, and reached up to grab his
intended target.
Both
nearly jumped out of their skin when a sudden movement on the other side of the
table resulted in the first man’s hand getting a resounding slap from a fly
swatter. “Charles Philip Morton,” his
mother scolded firmly, “just what do you think you’re doing, young man?”
Chip
stood up, rubbing his stinging hand.
“Just after some cookies,” he admitted sheepishly. Lee Crane stood and showed himself more
openly from outside the window. “We
could smell them coming out of the oven from clear down by the creek.”
“And
I could see you sneaking around almost the entire way,” Claire Morton told him,
still brandishing the fly swatter. But
she finally grinned at both young men and waved a hand at the tray. Grabbing up three of the still cooling peanut
butter cookies, she walked over and handed them to a shyly smiling Lee. “And you couldn’t just ask?” she turned and
challenged her son.
Chip
grinned at Lee. “We’re military
now. We don’t ask, we
infiltrate.”