There are few things I hate more than going to the dentist (going to the proctologist is one of them). My hatred for the dentist can be summarized as follows:
- I love having my own hands near my mouth — any of my close friends can account for my nail-biting habit. However, that love doesn’t extend to other peoples hands.
- Being asked questions when I can’t respond to them. “Does this feel ok?” “Got any plans for the weekend?” What kind of brain failure are you having if you think I can talk while your hands are in my mouth?
- It hurts.
- Ok, ok. He does a good job at numbing my gums so I can’t feel the pain. Bonus: the numbing extends to my cheek so I can’t feel his name tag lightly scratching my skin.
- Overhearing the conversation between the dentist and his assistant. HELLO! I may be numb but I’m not unconscious. I don’t really need to hear about your marital issues.
What does my hatred have to do with robbing my dentist (besides a motive, of course)? Well, during my two-hour stay I managed to overhear some information which would make robbing his house incredibly easy:
- He never sets his house alarm.
- There is a key hidden under his mat (because no one would suspect that).
- He is going to Florida next week for two months.
- There won’t be anyone house-sitting because the 18-year-old down the road smokes cigars and cannot be trusted.
- He has a fire extinguisher that doesn’t work.
Given all the above information, here is how the break-in would go down:
- Find his address. Easy, I have his business card.
- Sneak up to his house (for visual effect).
- Use key underneath the mat to open the door.
- Laugh at the alarm that isn’t being used.
- Spend 7 weeks eating his food and sleeping in his bed.
- Take anything that I can easily sell on eBay.
- Start a fire.
- Stage a failed attempt at putting out the fire by using the broken fire extinguisher.
- Flee the scene.
And there you have it – the perfect crime. Eat your heart out, Danny Glover.