Look for the sneak behind everything. That’s what Sneak told me. Ever since I, Bobby Boo, the apartment sneak, have been playing with the kids, my mischievous brother Sneak has stopped bothering me.
He doesn’t follow me around anymore and he doesn’t complain to my parents that I don’t like scaring people. What’s more, we’ve become friends. He knows our apartment building inside and out, top to bottom, bottom to top, inside and maybe a little bit outside. It’s so nice that he wants to share it with me. Like today.
It was nighttime and I was waiting in the hallway outside our apartment door for Sneak to arrive. We’re going on a tour of the apartment building together.
“It’s about time you came,” I said instead of saying hello, because Sneak was already twenty minutes late.
Sneak yawned.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve had a bad night’s sleep . My pillow felt like it was pushing and poking me.
He must have a tuft of hair on his brain. How else would he come up with such a stupid excuse? Pillows are soft.
“Where are we going?”
“I’ll show you what it looks like downstairs tonight. Where are you going?”
“Well, downstairs,” I say with my first paw on the step.
“We’re going to take the elevator,” Sneak says.
“Wow, I haven’t taken the elevator yet.”
We only had to wait a moment and the elevator was here. We slipped under the feet of the people getting on and off. Mr. Carlos, whom I had so successfully scared the other day, got on with us. He looked different today. He was wearing a black knit cap, a black shirt and holding a flashlight.
Sneak and I crouched under a small seat in the elevator. The light on the ceiling glowed dimly and the seat cast a shadow to hide us.
On the fifth floor, Mrs. Simon, who reminded me an awful lot of a queen from the children’s books, approached. The only thing is I don’t know if it was the queen with the magic mirror or the queen with the golden hair. Although hers may have become rusty somewhere along the way. She probably walked in the rain too much.
As soon as Mrs. Simon came in, she started talking.
“Mr. Carlos, what are you doing here so late?”
“You won’t believe that, Mrs. Simon, someone is stealing my mail,” Mr. Carlos fretted.
“Oh, come on, the boxes are locked. Did someone break in?”
“Well, that’s the odd thing. Mail gets lost, but the lock is intact.”
Mrs. Simon shook her head in disbelief, and shifted her feet nervously, as if ants were biting her.. Sneak whimpered softly when she stepped on his paw. I reached for her foot to take revenge, but Mrs. Simon was wearing sturdy shoes so she didn’t feel anything.
“Well, where are you going, Mrs. Simon? To work?”
Mrs. Simon nodded, she was going to the hospital where she worked as a nurse on the night shift.
Then the elevator stopped on the ground floor. Thank heavens. Mr. Carlos rolled out and ducked into the darkness beside the mailboxes.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Simon giggled.
“I’m going to wait here for the mail-stealing scoundrel. I’m gonna hit him and maybe even give his ass a good spanking.”
“Well, happy hunting,” she wished him, and walked out into the nighttime bustle of the city.
Sneak and I slipped down into the darkness on the other side of the hallway.
“Ouch, my paw,” Sneak grumbled. “She’s got shoes that could stomp bugs.”
“We should have taken the stairs,” I said.
“Nah, at least you know that now.”
“Know what? That pointy leather shoes are good for stomping on cockroaches?”
“Forget it,” frowns Sneak at my lack of understanding. “Now you know why there are no elevator sneaks. You can’t scare or scratch anybody in that moving box.”
I had to agree.
He showed me the ground floor and the entrance to the basement. He didn’t take me there, though; he said that the oldest sneak in town lives there and he doesn’t like to be disturbed by unannounced visitors. It is said that in his youth he was one of the best ghosts in the business, biting sleepers on the nose, and even biting off someone’s thumb once. Even a piece of crocs, because the sleeper fell asleep in his shoes. He said we’re gonna go there someday.
We checked all the corridors. We came home in the morning. This time we took the stairs. Sneak yawned on every floor. We slipped through a passage in the wall to where our beds were.
“Jump in the covers!” Sneak squeaked at the top of his lungs and jumped onto his pillow with a run.
There was the sound of ripping fabric and letters and store flyers flew into the air around us. Sneak landed on the empty pillowcase and stomped his paws sadly.
“Oh no. I fluffed him up so nicely. Now I should probably pluck a chicken so I can stuff it again.”
“Or a letterbox,” I advised, laughing at him.
One thing was clear. Mr. Carlos did not catch the thief that night. Well, good night, and fluff up your pillows and blankets nicely, so you can sleep better than Sneak.