or, way.to.go frats
Oliver lives in a frat house. He’s our co-op student here at the office.
Today he comes in with the news that over the last couple of weeks someone has been breaking into their (and other) houses near the university — while they are sleeping — and robbing them. Sounds vaguely familiar, so I pay attention to the office gossip for once.
It seems that wallets, DVDs, watches and other valuables have mysteriously disappeared overnight in a series of fraternity houses — and a few people are getting suspicious. Well. More than suspicious actually.
Strike one for the culprit(s), right?
Not neccessarily, it seems. Early this morning — as fate would have it — the thief (a typical Vancouver “character”) was caught in the act. And by “caught” I mean chased down the street by some unimpressed frat boys. And by “some” I mean more than I would care to have chasing me through the streets late at night. And by “unimpressed” I mean… well… I’m sure the police were a welcome sight when they showed up and stuffed the burglar into a squad car.
There’s a moral there somewhere.