Death to thieves

To the rat bastard or rat bastards that broke into my house Tuesday afternoon:

You're damn lucky. If me or any of my roommates had caught you inside, we had the advantage of knowing where all the weapons are—knives, rifles, shotguns, flamethrower. You got lucky and found the bad lock, congratulations. Don't worry, that little weakness has already been fixed, plus a couple of other ones Adam and Chris found.

You caught us while we were blinking. Not again, though.

So you only took my Xbox, PS2, and a couple of airsoft pistols. You were pretty damn stupid to neglect taking any games (besides the one in the console). Big deal. I'm still pissed. Too bad you didn't check for my name and driver's license engraved on the bottom, huh? Even try to pawn those and you're fucked.

Maybe you were the same person(s) that clipped the "USA" Christmas lights on our house. Maybe not. But know this: my roommates and I are sick and fucking tired of this.

The Butte County Sheriff's Office once again reiterated our abilities to use the previously mentioned weaponry on you if we ever catch you in our house again.

So, for you own personal safety (especially if it's you, Cat Man), don't try it.