Saturday, February 03, 2007

(you should read parts I and II first, or really this is a spoiler)

As I am an early riser anyway, this morning did not catch me out of sorts. I was up with the sun, and ready to catch my thief. But it was still so bitter cold outside!

I try to be a jogger, and by that I mean I try to jog every morning, and end up jogging every other morning, or so. But today, with purpose, I decided I would go for a little jog. I donned my heaviest jacket, gloves, two pair of running pants, high socks, and a balaclava: the traditional headwrap of the snow fairing Norski.

The tracks were still fresh, and as such were easy to follow. Down six blocks they went, easily seen in the fresh morning snow. This guy must have been in a hurry, the tire tracks weaved this way and that! And then, they stopped.

A few seconds of super sleuthing and I discovered them acrossed the street. Oh, this guy was good! Crossing the street like that, to draw me off the scent. But I would not be deterred. Up two more blocks, in and out of houses. He had no care for the tracks he was leaving now.

And up to a house. Where parked out back was a bike! The tracks were unmistakably the same as the tire. Jackpot, this was my guy.

In hindsight, what I did next was foolhearted. Many things could have gone wrong for me here, but I was not thinking. I knocked on the door. Rustling inside warned me of a presence, but no one answered. Again, and again nothing. I was dejected.

My resources, and network, are vast in this megatropolis. I called on the aide of one of Paul Bunyan's finest. I now had an address, I needed a phone number. It was supplied, thanks to the riches of the interweb, and a phone call was placed. This, as best it can be remembered, is that call, and the conclusion, for me, of the manhunt:


"Hello, this is going to sound weird, but I think your son broke into my car."

"Oh?" (chatty fellow, ain't he?)

"Yes, last night I saw a burglar (I may have actually used that word) breaking into my car, and so on and so forth, the rest of what you have already heard was told to him..."

"(chuckle) Where do you live?"

"I am at , why do you ask?"

"My son is your paperboy." click.

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