I stamped outside like a madwoman, infuriated: "Which of you chumps did this?!"
I was so aggrieved with their quietude and unruffled sentiments, that I heaved the ball from their grasp. "I need answers, NOW!" I menacingly howled like a hungry scavenger, whose just got her last straw plucked.
"Did what, now?" murmured Kai Min immediately disgruntled. "Now what?" Bernard; the leader of the gang, vocalized questioningly. "This!" I pointed towards my house door. "WHICH OF YOU TRIED BREAKING IN?!"
"Uh, we never stretched a tow at your somber door, or your off-putting house." Bernard approached.
WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?
"What I'm simply trying to convey is; none of us are reprehensible for the real culprits wrongdoing." He continued. "Yes, we aren't!" acknowledged the other gang members in concordance.
"BUT THEN WHOS-" I was cut midway. "You know the thief's really dumb? And it's for two reasons." Said one of the boy's I couldn't recognize. "First reason is quite obvious; he did his work clumsily and committed a total objectionable conduct. I mean, who doesn't cover their tracks? It's obvious now that someone broke in."
I agree with him by a 100%.
"What's the second reason?" I asked with renewed attention.
"The person didn't know who the house belonged too... Because if he knew, he'd be cautious of the house he palates and the nut-job living there. Not the best house he reaped, you know? Poor guy got what he deserved."
My anger resumed as I marched away from those idiots. Good for nothing boneheads!
I surely have a nice door, just like the way people perceive me primitively; a sad, melancholic personage at first, but then a sweet, faithful and affectionate lady conclusively, quite similar to the interior of my house that a crook found too applicable and convenient for carrying out thievery. Plus, the lazy shack was so jaunty and nonchalant that he didn't bother to put some effort in clearing the mishmash dilemma he had established for me. Anyways, these boys will grow accustomed to my door sooner or later, or they might be well acquainted already, who knows? I had my suspicions.
I believe, fuming is a highly toxic process, but life was an unfavorable fortune's raffle designated to me. I experienced a dreading notion curb it's way into me, as I felt I was being invigilated. And to my terror, I was. Okay, but seriously... what's with this person? His appearance always transpires amid an awry hour just so that I can point fingers at him.
As if he wanted to be condemned or perhaps be kept under supervision?