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THE DAY MY HOUSE WAS ROBBED

You can imagine how I feel about the topic of robbery by reading the title atop this page. I have had personal experience. One day late last August, I arrived home to find that my house had been robbed. I rushed to the telephone and immediately called the police. In my haste, I accidentally dialed the wrong number and won an all expenses paid trip to the Orient.

I thanked the contest operator, quickly hung up and re-dialed, this time a little more carefully. In the middle of my conversation, the police chief I was talking to was shot, and he fell onto the desk with a deafening thud, unfortunately, leaving the line open so I was unable to call back.

After some time, another man came onto the other end. It didn't sound much like a policeman. Actually, it sounded more like the murderer. Me told me to forget what I had just heard, and then the phone went dead.

Aggravated, I ran upstairs, packed my bags and left on the next flight for the Orient. I thought that I could do with a rest and maybe after a couple of weeks, things would be all straightened out. I couldn't have been more wrong. When I returned from my trip, I discovered that not only was my house still robbed, but this time so were the things INSIDE it.