I was walking home late one night and I took a shortcut through a park. Halfway through the park and I was accosted by a mugger. Not a very smart mugger, in my opinion, as I was two to three times her size. Still, she had a very wicked looking knife and a mask that covered most of her face.
"Wallet," she snapped at me.
"I know you, don't I," I observed. "Ah, let's see, Danae, Dianne, Deb? That last one sounds close. Yeah, Deborah, more commonly known as Debbie. What do you think you're playing at, Debbie?" I asked with a sigh.
"I'm not this Debbie," she snapped, "and I'm not playing. Wallet."
She waved the knife around to emphasize her demand.
"Yeah, you are," I told her. "Come on, you're the only girl in the neighbourhood with boobs like that. If you're trying to disguise yourself you'd be better off using tape to flatten those mountains. Do that and the mask might work."
"I'm not Debbie and my breasts are not under discussion. Your wallet. Give it to me. I'm serious."
"Actually your breasts are frequently under discussion. Natural or not? I know some guys who'd pay good money if you care to show them off."
She just waved the knife closer to my face and I held up my hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I get the message. Did you know that I'm a bit of an amateur magician?"
While talking I pulled a folded white handkerchief from my pocket, giving it a slight shake to let it unfold.
"From this totally empty handkerchief," showing both sides to her, "I will produce a wallet."
I crushed the handkerchief into a ball and then shook it open again.
"Hum. That didn't work. Hold your horses, I'll get it this time."
I crushed the handkerchief into a ball again and flicked it open, with the difference being that I let it go when I flicked it open and it sailed straight into her face. This resulted in three things. First, it momentarily blocked her view. Second, she instinctively raised her hands to protect her face. Third, it left her wide open when I reached out and caught her hand in mine, and mine was a lot bigger and stronger than hers.
She screamed and tried to pull away but I just held her firmly, calmly extracting the knife from her grasp.
"This is a very nasty knife," I told her. "Do you have a sheath for it?"
Her eyes flicked to one side for a moment and I smiled.
"So you either carry it in that shoulder bag you're carrying or the sheath is in it. I'm betting on the latter."
Seeing I still had a firm grip on her hand she couldn't really prevent me from snapping open the bag and extracting the sheath. I put the knife in it and put the sheathed knife into my pocket.
"I'll just look after this for you," I told her.
Reaching up I tugged her mask down, revealing the furious face of, surprise, surprise, Debbie Morrison.
"Run along now, Debbie," I said, releasing her hand. "Thank your lucky stars I'm feeling generous."
"Generous? You're a rotten sod. You nearly broke my wrist. Give me back my knife."
"I don't think so," I said. "You'll just get yourself into more trouble if I do. Now scoot."
To encourage her departure I took her arm and turned her around, delivering a smart spank to her bottom. She squealed and jumped away from me, hands on her bottom.
"You can't keep it," she protested. "It's not yours. That's stealing, that is."
"I suspect that it isn't yours, either," I said with a grin. "Why don't you just tell whoever you borrowed it from that I've got it and they can collect it from my place?"
"Oh, I get it," I said, seeing a rather hunted look on her face. "The owner doesn't know you've borrowed it, does he? I guess you'd better learn to act innocent when they ask where their missing knife is."
I continued wending my way home, leaving Debbie swearing and casting aspersions upon my parentage.
I went home and eventually went to bed and to sleep. Something woke me, even though I didn't know what. I was about to roll over and go back to sleep when I heard a noise from somewhere in the house. I very quietly slid out of bed and went to investigate.
My first thought was to call the police, but the intruder would probably hear me talking on the phone and depart. I decided to bail whoever it was up and then call the police. The noise seemed to come from the front room so I slipped my phone into the pocket of my pyjamas and headed in that direction.
From the door I could see someone was trying to quietly check all the drawers in a buffet that stood against one wall, a small torch helping them look.
"My shotgun may only be loaded with birdshot," I said cheerfully, "but at this range it will still make a mess of you. If you try to run you'll find out how much of a mess."
My visitor went dead still, apparently not wanting to see what bird-shot would do.
"Sit down on the floor," I said, "making sure you're sitting on your hands and that your legs are crossed."
There was enough reflected light from the torch for me to see that I was being obeyed. When he was seated I reached over and flicked on the main light.
"You liar," came the indignant cry from Debbie. "You haven't got a shotgun."
"True, but I do have a burglar and a very nice knife. Now if you'll excuse me I guess I have to call the police. They can remove both burglar and knife. Good luck explaining yourself to them."
"Wait. You can't. I only came to get my knife back. If you hadn't stolen it I wouldn't be anywhere near here."
"I can, you know. That's what they're for, to arrest burglars and muggers and such. I might point out if you hadn't tried to mug me I wouldn't have taken your knife. You were just lucky you didn't mug someone who didn't just punch you out. You were standing so close to me I could have broken your jaw before you could use that knife. Think of the police as protection, keeping you from hurting yourself."
"But I'll go to prison. I'll be a criminal."
"Now that I think of it you are an adult, aren't you?"
At her sullen nod I smiled and continued.
"Then it's probably your lucky day. As a first offender you'll just get lectured by the judge and given community service. No jail time for you."
"Oh, please, you can't call the police. My dad would kill me."
Now that struck a chord with me. Her father was a nasty piece of shit, a vicious little bully who was reputed to be a bit free with his fists. I could easily see him beating the crap out of Debbie if she caused him any inconvenience and her being arrested was something he would consider offensive.
"If I don't call the police what am I supposed to do with you? I'm sure you can understand that I'm a trifle reluctant to let you walk out of here scot free. You're acting like a total idiot and you need to learn that actions have consequences and your actions today are just screaming for unpleasant consequences. You're damned lucky not to have suffered any already."
"It's not my fault. I only had to jump you and you were supposed to just give me your wallet without any bother. Instead of which you stole my knife. If you hadn't pinched it I wouldn't have to be here trying to get it back."
Debbie was dull of righteous indignation, angry at me for not doing my part in the scenario she'd imagined. One thing she said drew my attention.
"What do you mean you only had to jump me and who said I'd give up my wallet without a fuss?"
For the first time that night she started to look genuinely guilty, not willing to meet my eyes.
"I don't know what you mean," she blustered, and that was a prevarication if I ever heard one.
"Oh, I think you know just what I mean," I said softly. "Start talking."
"Katherine," she mumbled.
"Katherine? As in my sister Katherine? That's the Katherine you mean?"
A sullen nod of her head.
"Explain, please," I said, smiling encouragingly.
"I lost a bet," she said, speaking so softly I had to listen hard to hear what she was saying. "Katherine said I had to mug you when you came through the park. She said you'd fold like a poor poker hand and pass it over without any argument. We'd have given it back to you."
I had to admit that sounded like Katherine. She just didn't see me as a strong man. Just as an elder brother she could boss around.
"Have you spoken to her since the park?"
"Not yet. If I didn't find the knife I was going to make her get it and let her explain everything."
"She'd have loved that," I said with a grin. "Don't call her. Let her call you. I can guarantee she will."
I fished out the phone I hadn't rung the police with and typed in a quick message and sent it on its way. That done I put the phone away again.
"What did you just do?" demanded a very suspicious Debbie.
"Just sent Kat a message saying I met a mugger and punched her in the face. It will be interesting to get her reaction when she gets around to reading it."
"What? She'll think I've been hurt. Why would you do that?" Now Debbie seemed to have found her loud voice.
"To make her think about the consequences to her little ploy," I said calmly. I held up a clenched fist. "Can you imagine this hitting you between the eyes or on the nose? Hospital time for sure."
"But you wouldn't," Debbie protested. "Katherine swears that you wouldn't fight. You never do, she says."
"I fight, quite often. At the dojo where I train. If I fight outside it I could get into serious trouble as the police don't like martial arts experts fighting."
