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The Midnight Burglar by Mark Anthony Given



The faults of the burglar are the qualities of the financier. -George Bernard Shaw


             I BROKE INTO A HOUSE when I was a kid in an upscale leafy residential neighborhood in the late Fall in upstate New York, about 10:30 in the morning and found a young beautiful girl laying in bed half undressed waiting for me.  I probably had to slip something between the door and the frame and it opened like I had a key to your future, with all your shit gone.  Back porch off the backdoor, as soon as I got in the house I squatted down and listened for a full minute to try and determine if anyone was in the home.   It looked like your average well lived in house and everyone had just left to school or work so I do my thing. 
          I MOVE THROUGH their whole house after I went to the front room and looked out the curtains, up and down the street where everything looks normal after I walked up the street and had turned into the place that looked empty and turned into their driveway at random, walked up on their back porch and just waited and listened like a bad cat in the jungle;  patient and agile....and determined.
        I DON'T TOUCH NOTHING, I just examine all their stuff while I keep moving, I need to see everything before I choose anything.  The first dozen houses I broke into I didn't steal anything;  They didn't have anything I wanted... See "Clocking the Block,"  I probably broke into a hundred homes and never stole anything because they didn't have anything I wanted in most of them; didn't have anything to steal, and the rest I got busted for and already served time for so relax, you Rat Bastard;  these stories are from when I was young and stupid;  and at least I have something to write about it.   After I quickly assessed all their material possessions without touching anything, I go upstairs in this old four or five bedroom Victorian style home next to a row of similar houses probably built in the 1940's and 50's and had some handcrafted feel to the banisters and moldings, but real lived in feel and I was scared to death and acting on pure instincts, and as soon as I get to the top of the stairs and on the landing good, I do a 360 to find the Master Room and I see her. 
          WHEN I WAS A KID in New York I was living on the streets when I was twelve years old and I was so small I could slip through the Milk boxes on the backdoor of lots of older homes and apartment buildings.  It was like a doggy door for the Milk Man.  

            They were all different sizes and I could fit through only a few of them but that didn't stop me breaking into three or four apartments or homes without them even knowing I was there, before noon...  I even took my girlfriend with me a couple of times for a "Ride Along."  When I was ready to go I could always find her in the baby room looking at baby clothes but she would never take anything. 
              AS SOON AS I SEEN HER I froze in place and terror raced through my body, I was scared to death like I had found a dead body.  The door was standing wide open where the rest were all closed and she laid on a nice old four poster bed on light purple
sheets and her upper body was uncovered and her blond hair was splayed across the corner of the bed nearest me.  She looked like she was about nineteen and had been recently ravished and I was too late for the party.... I was so damn scared, I just knew she was going to turn her head and look up at me standing there shitting in my boots.  I was in there for C. M. Russell's and Remington's or a Wyeth owned by someones grandparents for fifteen thousand dollars at the turn of the century and now worth millions, but I came to a crossroads in my life that morning at the top of the stairs...
           JUST LIKE IN "Clocking the Block," I was at the Last Temptation of Youth and I had to make a decision to rape this young girl or leave right now.   I wanted to fuck the shit out of this beautiful girl laying there like I had dreamed all this and all had to
do was......I rubbed my crotch to massage the primal urge as I looked around calculating my chances of success of throwing a pillow case over this young girls head and try and knock the bottom out of her pussy.   I thought of an older brother I never really knew who was at that moment, sitting in Attica serving a second long prison sentence for rape, and wondered if he'd look out for me when I got up there.....
           MY ANGEL on the right says, "No your not."  BAD ANGEL on the left says's, "Fuck that!  Look at her!  It's like she was laying here waiting for you!  What are you waiting on?"  I spent probably a full minute standing there at the cross roads of Right and Wrong, and it was go time....
          YOU MAY NOT BELIEVE THIS, and scientist are only now being able to prove this, but just like Aristotle said before Christ, you are born either Good or Bad.  After I read the entire Old Testament I realized I had been operating on the belief that most people are good and only some people are bad;  it's the other way around:  Most people are Bad and only some people are Good.    It really wasn't a hard decision for me, I knew it wasn't in me to rape anyone and I backed down them stairs and walked straight out of there and never looked back. 
          ANYTIME YOU GET your house broke into, it is nearly always someone you let into your house and they came back to get something they saw.  That's why I tell everyone to never bring anyone to my house.  Once I started to breaking into houses at random, I almost never got caught.  Never stole things to pawn, another sure way of getting caught.  And another thing you may or not know, breaking into a house with people in it is called "Midnight Burglary," and the penalty increases dramatically. 
           THE VERY LAST HOUSE I broke into many years later was in the same neighborhood, I grabbed a ladder laying next to a garage next door and propped it up to a second floor window after knocking on the door and no one was at home.  I get into the house and went through it top to bottom and they did not have a single thing I wanted or even anything worth stealing.  I sat down on the bed next to the window before I left and decided right there and then I would not break into any more houses;  I was stealing from people who had no more than I had, and just didn't make any sense. 
Why break into house to steal stuff too sell and make money;  why not just get a copier and make the money?  Cut out the middle man.  Why break into houses to get money to buy drugs;  just break into drug stores...... and that's what I did.  See The Real Drug Store
Cowboy, here on this blog....
          ONE LAST THING:  I don't write these stories because I am proud of these things, I'm really ashamed about it but I rationalize by being raised on the streets without any real guidance and probably born with an extra chromosome that seeks excitement, and adrenaline junky.  Fortunately all that has gone...

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