I would just like to start out this week by apologizing to all of the parents of the young, impressionable children who read my previous article, followed my sage advice, and now continuously lie all the time because they are afraid of being unloved.  Kids, it's not that you'll never get anywhere in life and be unloved if you lie... it's that honesty and integrity make you unpopular and causes others to laugh at you.

Having cleared that up, dictionary.com (because I lost my actual dictionary to the flames of a fireplace in a freak Scrabble accident after I challenged Raven on her made-up words like "pimpcandy" and "sausagely" one too many times) defines theft as "The act or an instance of stealing; larceny."  We weren't stealing anything by sneaking into the Buggy Museum and permanently borrowing one of the monster TUVs for RavenTresses, so I didn't see what the big deal was.  Besides, if we were caught, I had the convenient excuse of testing out Neckro's security for an exposition piece for The Voice.  Unfortunately, Hatch didn't quite agree once I had explained the full intent of our Mickey-Mouse operation here after daylight hit.

"We're doing WHAT?" Hatch yelled at me because basically he's mean and rude and doesn't want Raven to get presents.  "I thought you said this was all cleared through Neckro!"

"Would you have come out to help us if you had any reason to believe this was all legitimate journalism?" I turned around and asked him, gripping him by the shoulders.

"NO, I WOULDN'T HAVE!" Hatch responded, swatting my hands away.

"Hey, stop talking in all caps," Raven reminded.  "He's gonna hear you!"

"And since when is any of my journalism legitimate anyway?" I countered.  "So it's not like you didn't have any idea what was going on."

"Okay, you got me there," he reasoned while rubbing his chin, deep in thought for a moment.  "Let's just go in and do this so I can get back home and start coming up with my alibi, all right?"

All three of us started sneaking towards the Buggy Museum, but we didn't get far before Hatch spotted a guard standing in the courtyard and motioned for Raven and I to stop.  He was standing watch over the entire funzone, and would have spotted us as we continued around towards the back of the complex.  I wasn't sure if he was armed or not, but he did have some sort of bullet-proof vest on.  Probably some guy with a 1700 paintball skill just itching to make 1701 on some poor, helpless sods like ourselves.  "Great," he whispered.  "A guard.  Now what do we do?"

"Did you bring a sniper rifle or whatnot?" I inquired.

"Rick, we're not going to kill anyone for your stupid article or to get her presents!" Hatch firmly reminded us.  RavenTresses did a sad face emote in the background, and then sat down and ripped open her bucket of frozen margarita mix and started scooping some into her tactical margarita canteen.

"Well we can't just turn around and go home!  What should we do?"

"Oh, I've got an idea," Raven declared, gulping from her canteen.  We both ignored her because it was probably something about buying her presents or another mirror.

"Hatch, why don't you just run around to the other side and create some sort of diversion to distract the guard while Raven and I sneak in from the other side?" I suggested.   I made the appropriate gestures with my fingers and hands as if to demonstrate the flanking maneuver I was trying to describe in mid-air.

"No, why don't YOU go do it?" Hatch replied snidely.

I thought about it for a moment.   "No, because this is my article.  When you write an article about me, you can make me do all the dumb, dangerous stuff," I pointed out.

"Guys, I have an idea!" RavenTresses announced again while we were arguing.  We were just about to settle it with a game of "who can hit the hardest" -- in which I was going to go first, punch Hatch directly in the left kidney, and then surrender and tell him he won while he was all doubled over in pain and spitting up blood -- when Raven pulled out her cell phone and called up someone on the phone.  She mumbled a few things to the person on the other line, confirmed the plan, and then hung up.

We both walked back over to her and asked what that was all about.  She told us to look through the binoculars at the guard and wait about 30 seconds.  Sure enough, within that short amount of time, two well-dressed bureaucrats had strolled up to the guard and began talking to him.  I quickly pulled out the directional audio amplifier I had brought in my backpack in order to hear the conversation from a distance:   

"Hello, we're with Child Protective Services," said the woman in the red business suit to the guard.  "We're here to take you into protective custody and shield you from further physical and psychological harm from your parents."

Looking all confused, the guard managed to stammer, "There must be some mistake.  I don't even live with my parents.   I'm 32 years old, for crying out loud!"

The man in the black jacket and white shirt grabbed the guard by his arm.  "There, there, lil whippersnapper... you don't have to thank us for taking you out of your abusive situation.  We understand you probably don't want to talk about it.  Just follow us into our sedan over here and we'll have you with a foster family in no time!"

"What are you guys talking about?   Let go of me... I'm a grown man!"

"I know we sometimes think we're all grown up and can solve our own issues, young lad," the lady explained.   "But we just can't let you stay in an environment where your parents are emotionally traumatizing you and forcing you to work as a guard at such a young age to earn your keep.  Now come with us!"

"You're all making a big mistake!" he screamed while kicking and flailing around as they drug them off into their sedan and whisked him away.

Hatch and I turned towards RavenTresses and just blinked several times.  "Wow," I said in awe after a few moments of group blinking.  "That was easy.  Okay, follow me!"  Our feet kicked up the hot desert sand behind us as we closed the gap between our latest hiding place and the now-unguarded Buggy Museum.  Hatch hadn't set off any landmines, so we were still good to go.  In fact, there weren't any more sensors or alarms or anything to circumvent.  I was a bit disappointed that this was going to be just way too easy.

We were detained momentarily as Raven caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass dome structure of the museum and stepped a bit closer to see how pretty she looked.  "Come on, you look pretty already... we don't have a whole lot of time before Neckro checks in with his guard and doesn't get a response!" I growled in an attempt to rush her along, but she wouldn't budge.  So we all had to stand there and wait around for her to adjust her hair and fix her makeup in the reflective glass panel until she was ready to go.

We hustled around to the front where the door to the display floor was, and gave Raven the lockpick set for her to break the lock on the door.  She opened up the kit to discover all sorts of picks, shimmies, files, and other sorts of tools.  She got right to work, jamming every conceivable combination of tool into the locking mechanism until there was an earth-shattering cracking noise, some breaking glass, what sounded like a stack of oil drums falling down all over each other, and a large tearing sound.  Hatch and I cringed at the incredible destruction she had wrought upon that poor lock within mere seconds.  Then the doorknob itself fell to the ground, shattering into multiple pieces with one of the lockpicks breaking in half.  Next, one of the bolts fell out of the top door hinge from the vibrations of all the noises and the bottom hinge ripped clean in two from now having the entire burden of the door's weight on it.  We all stepped aside as the huge door fell backwards and cracked in half when it hit the steps.   The top of the door frame came dislodged and swung down from the top and just hung there from the other side.  All in all, an impressive reminder as why she's never allowed to touch anything of mine when she comes over to visit.

"It's bwoke," Raven explained all frustrated, throwing her tools down onto the ground in disgust and pouting, but her task complete as expected.  Our team quickly rushed into the museum to claim -- er, I mean, permanently borrow -- our prize.