KALAH ALLEN

Dear ersatz cat burglar: While your casing was spot-on—poorly guarded rental home full of self-absorbed college kids (laptops! iPods! trust funds!) in a moderately affluent and sleepy neighborhood—your assumption that I would not be just waking up at 2 pm resulted in a bit of awkwardness for both of us. You were exceedingly polite, if in a bit of a rush when we met in the living room. I'm sorry for what happened once you got outside, what with you not having any mode of transport, and me chasing you with my car. I can't say I've ever had to face down a speeding Honda Accord station wagon, but I imagine it's pretty intimidating. Hats off for recognizing the absurdity of the situation and simply dropping the three over-stuffed backpacks full of dumb shit you so carefully selected from our weird-smelling rooms. You should have seen how many cops showed up right after you bolted. (I blame the neighbors, who call them if we play our Fleet Foxes record after 9 pm.) Anyhow, I hope this letter finds you in a better place, since you kind of suck at burglary and you seemed like a nice-enough guy.—Anonymous